Page 50 of Loving Smoke

In this picture she stood next to a very attractive woman who could pass for her sister, but I assumed it was her mother. The woman smiled into the camera, but Marisol’s face was turned away like she didn’t want her picture taken. It was easy to see where Marisol got her looks. Too bad all that hotness was wrapped up in a deceiving bitch.

I read the attached article below the picture.

“Alleged Mexican cartel kingpin, Rico Sandoval, is seen in a rare photo attending his youngest daughter’s graduation from Stanford. Apparently, the alleged drug lord’s money has afforded him the best education for his daughter. This reporter wonders how much his family knows about the directive of such money.”

Good question, but that was a given. Of course, Marisol knew what her father was about. Me and my connection to the Bastards was the main reason she applied for the job at The Tropics.

All the disconnects I had over the past months came together. How she stood out from the other girls we employed. How she caught on to the POS system quickly and never messed up a drink order. Simple shit for a Stanford graduate with her masters who would never take a job in a strip club under normal circumstances. She even managed to perfect the local accent when she probably spoke perfect English.

Luckily, she’d only done the office part of her job twice, but even when I caught her rifling through my desk I gave her a pass because I didn’t want to believe what was staring me in the face.

A conniving bitch taking orders from her father—the boss of the most notorious cartel in Mexico.

I stared at the picture for a long time, then swiped away the article and the picture. If she wanted to play we were gonna play by my rules.

Game on, bitch.

19

The next night I sat at my usual table off to the side of the club. Even with the crowd I had a perfect view of the bar. I checked the time on my phone for the tenth time in five minutes and of course Blood noticed.

“You realize she may not even show up.”

I stared at my phone. Five-fifty. She had ten minutes until her shift started.

My mind wandered back to her first night when she came late playing the part of the scattered bartender. An act, just like every other fuckin’ thing she did since she walked through the door of The Tropics.

“Whatever freaked her out yesterday might keep her away today.”

I thought of that too, but my gut told me she’d show to finish whatever game she was playing. Only this time I was on to her, and she wouldn’t be leaving here until she answered to me.

Ten minutes later, she entered the club from the back hall. I followed her with my eyes, but either she didn’t see me through the crowd or she purposely ignored my presence.

The rest of the night went by tediously slow. I kept focused on the main bar drilling her with my eyes. A few times I caught her gaze and she’d quickly look away. Perfect. My goal to make her fuckin’ uncomfortable was working. I’d kept the side that made me a Royal Bastard hidden from her, but now it was time to show my ass.

I’d already planned to set her up when she worked in the office. Leaving out notes about fake gun shipments and other lies she could spill to Rico. Double down with enough bullshit information to drive the drug lord crazy. I’d make this twist of fate work out in our favor using Marisol as my pawn.

Then when the time was right, and she’d outlived her usefulness, I’d use her in another way and show the sneaky whore how big, bad bikers liked to get down. She wanted to play with the big boys, then let’s see if her Stanford education would see her through my brand of kink.

Thankfully, the club was filled to capacity and there was little time for speculation. After my father’s ultimatum I had no choice than to return and face a man who could surely bring me to my knees. Strange since I’d spent most of my dating years keeping men at a safe distance—until now.

The sensations I experienced with Smoke captivated me in a way I’d never experienced and I’d fallen—hard. The dread of seeing him again filled every part of me. For a fleeting moment I debated leaving, and heading to California, but angering my father wouldn’t benefit anyone. He’d follow through with his threats against Rita’s family, and in the end he’d surely find me, so playing this out was my only option.

I’d done my best to avoid Smoke, but tonight he sat at his usual table centering all his attention on the main bar. The few times my eyes wandered to his side of the room he was zeroed in on just me. The twisting of nerves affected my performance. I screwed up more than one drink order and let a beer bottle slip from my hand crashing to the floor behind the bar. I quickly cleaned it up but not before one of the other girls asked if I was all right.

Although I vowed to stay in character and play this game out, Smoke’s stone-cold expression unnerved me. His dangerous allure electrified every nerve in my body and held me hostage.

Finally, last call was announced, and I made myself busy cleaning up the bar and putting away the condiments. Keeping my eyes and my thoughts on the mundane duties. The other girls were cleaning up the tables when I sensed his presence behind me.

“Come into my office.” The heat of Smoke’s breath teased my ear. I side-stepped to the right, but he braced his hands on both sides of the bar making it impossible to move.

“I have to clean up.” A weak response.

“Now,” he growled, then strode away like he expected me to obey—and I did.

I followed him into the office and he slammed the door behind us, then spun around silently glaring.

I twisted the bar towel in my fists not quite sure what his next words would be.

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