Page 16 of Loving Smoke

“So, how was your first night working as a bartender?”

Graduating with honors from Stanford with a masters in arts and humanities I spoke four languages, and while I speak perfect English without a Spanish accent, affecting the local accent at The Tropics came easy.

“Uneventful. I played my part as you suggested.”

My reaction to his question took me by surprise. Had I really been Marisol Marquez I would’ve said I enjoyed myself. The activity of the club, the constant action and interaction with the customers at the bar. Meeting the other women behind the bar and not having to worry about people linking me to my father. The experience was freeing and liberating.

“And of course, no one suspected your true identity?”

“No.”

I excelled in theater at college. Welcoming the chance to get out of myself and forget my family’s business. If tragedy hadn’t struck our family I would’ve stayed in California and pursued an acting career. I’d already secured an agent who assured me my talent and sultry Mediterranean looks (his words) would shoot me to the top of every casting director’s list.

“I’m also assuming you met Smoke and Blood.” My father leaned in, his eyes searing me like lasers.

“Yes.”

“You said Blood interviewed you the other day, but did you get an opportunity to make an impression on Smoke as we discussed?”

“Yes, I played the ditsy scatterbrain and he seemed to fall for it. Even questioned how I would be getting home since I used my car breaking down as a reason for my lateness.”

“Excellent.”

“Yes, if I was back in Hollywood, I definitely would’ve gotten the part.” The sarcastic edge in my voice didn’t go unnoticed.

“My intel says Smoke will be the one you want to target.”

I knew what I had to do, but I wasn’t expecting Smoke to be as attractive. The scar along his jawline and his overall demeanor screamed wild outlaw biker. My sworn enemy, but still there was something about the rough, edgy way he carried himself. Like my father he commanded attention and I was sure he got it.

“He has a weakness for beautiful women. Apparently, it was because of a woman he was banished to Tijuana.”

I could definitely believe it. I envisioned hearing his deep raspy voice whispering to me after—Shut it down now.

“I will also be paying them a visit, but I’m going to wait a bit. Let them get settled and put their guard down, then I’ll insert myself.”

“Smoke sounds interesting. Just the kind of guy I’ve managed to avoid.” Again, I couldn’t keep the sarcastic lilt out of my voice but honestly this might be more enjoyable than I expected. Especially the part of leading Smoke on only to drop kick him to one of her father’s underlings.

“You do understand why we are doing this, Marisol?”

“I know why I’m doing it—to avenge my mother’s memory.” I stared back at my father daring him to confront me. “You, I’m not so sure.”

My beautiful, caring mother was taken from us a year ago because of revenge. Although I loathed everything my father stood for, that day changed my life forever. That day made me the woman I am today and made me realize how much like my father I really am.

I’d come home for my mother’s forty-third birthday. Having both Manny and I in her early twenties, she still looked so youthful and vibrant. We spent the day poolside—everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

The sun sparkling over the pool, the gentle breeze, then the sounds of heavy boots over the travertine patio. The deafening crack of the assault rifles and commotion exploding around us, then the air filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder. My mother dead, on her birthday, at the hands of the Royal Bastards haunted me day and night.

“That insolent mouth will be your downfall.”

“You’ve been telling me that since I was five, yet here I am doing your dirty work.”

My father let out a deep chuckle. “I know you hate to hear this or even think it, but you are just like me.”

I did hate it although I couldn’t deny it. We were alike in so many ways. We not only resembled each other with our ebony hair and eyes, but I also inherited his tenacity and one-mindedness. The same qualities allowing me to graduate at the top of my class without too much effort. Remember lines to a script after one reading. Be able to recite random details after experiencing something once.

Many times I wished I was more easygoing like my mother. Able to see only the good in people, but what good had that done her? Shot down dead way too soon because of a stupid grudge. A grievance which had nothing to do with her.

“Which makes you invaluable for this job.”

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