Page 18 of Loving Smoke

“Yeah, he does.”

I could sense Blood tensing next to me as we all sized each other up in a few seconds of tense silence.

“From what I hear The Tropics has become very popular. More popular than some of my other establishments on the Avenida.”

I spread my arms wide like I didn’t have a care in the world. “We’re doing all right.”

“I’d say more than all right, but I never have doubts when Americans invest in something. You have the money to spend to make the project profitable.”

Who the fuck was he kidding in his thousand dollar shoes and designer clothes? His outfit alone could probably feed half the people we employ.

“Why don’t we cut to the chase.” I leaned forward. “You came to shake us down, offer us protection, right?”

Sandoval huffed out a breath. “Another American trait—impatience.”

We stared at each other and Blood shifted alongside of me.

“You will find it is very important to have some form of protection in this part of Tijuana. People can get rowdy and crazy from too much tequila. Just two months ago the bar across the street suffered a terrible fire. The whole place burned to the ground.”

I noticed the building when we moved in. It still hadn’t been repaired and I guessed it probably never would if Sandoval had anything to do with it. His way of leaving it as an example for what happens when his rules are broken.

“Such a shame and all because they fell behind in their payments.”

“Yeah, a real shame.” He couldn’t honestly think we were falling for this bullshit. “How about if I offered you an alternative to protection.”

“An alternative?” Sandoval’s eyes narrowed.

“I know you need to move large quantities of artillery every month. I also know you can’t store it all in the same place in case you get raided. Plus, you like to use different locations to throw off the cops.”

“You seem to know a lot about my business.”

“I ran the same setup in Cali, but you already know that, so here’s what I’m offering. I got a crawl space under the bar only accessible through an opening at the back of the building behind the dumpsters. If you didn’t know it was there you’d never find it. Perfect storage place for items you want kept out of sight.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“You make the deal and the three of us will be the only ones who know about the crawl space or what’s in there.” I flattened my palms on the desktop. “We store your guns for free and we don’t pay protection.”

“I’ll have to think it over.” Sandoval pushed out of the chair. “I’ll be in touch.” He strode to the door without a backward glance.

When the office door slammed behind Sandoval, Blood pounced. “What the fuck was that, asking if I had to be here. Who the fuck does he think he is?”

“He’s just fronting, trying to push buttons.”

“I don’t trust the guy.”

“Neither do I, but that’s the beauty part. We lure him in, get him to store his guns here, then we ship them up to Cali. Show him who’s really running the show.”

“I hope you’re right.” Blood grunted, never a good sign. “Cause Rico is a little too slick for me.”

“He’s no different than any others we’ve come across over the years.” I had to get Blood on board, or at least squash his doubt.

“Sure, but up in Cali we had a whole club behind us, plus the other chapters.”

Blood’s sentence hung between us. “Right, but Tijuana gives us a chance to make our own rules, and maybe come out on top.”

“It’s the maybe part that fucks with me.”

Blood’s doubt and caution made us a good pair, but rules were meant to be broken especially by outlaw bikers in a place where rules didn’t apply.

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