Page 6 of Loving Smoke

“Yes, señor. And I had one of the girls go up and clean the rooms so they’re all ready for you. Very modest, probably not what you’re used to in the States.”

“Don’t matter,” Blood said. “We just wanna sack out.”

It’d been a long, shitty day and at going on eleven o’clock my ass was whipped.

Ricky rummaged around in the desk drawer and finally came up with some old school keys on a metal ring. Then we trudged behind him up a steep set of creaky wooden stairs.

“I like working here,” Ricky said when they reached the top of the stairs. “Having a job is very important to me and my family.”

“Not a problem, but like I said downstairs, there’s some things that gotta change.” I eyed the narrow hallway in front of me and wondered what awaited us on the other side of the door.

“The old owner, he tried to change some things too, but certain people didn’t like his ideas.”

Blood leaned in. “Certain people?”

Ricky shot a look over his shoulder. “The cartel. They’re all over, and more and more they’re getting into the nightclub and strip club business.” Ricky spread his arms wide. “Most of the places on this street pay to the cartel for protection. They tried to take this place over too, but the owner resisted—then he disappeared.”

For the tenth time in fifteen minutes I exchanged a look with Blood.

“Thanks for the heads-up, but I don’t think we’re gonna have to worry.”

Ricky gave them each a once-over. “You both look tough for sure, but it’s very hard to beat Rico Sandoval.”

Interesting. The same name Jameson threw out earlier.

Ricky unlocked the door, and flung it open, then handed me the keys.

“Thanks.” I pocketed the keys. “Show up in the morning and we’ll go over what we have planned for this place.”

Ricky nodded eagerly and left the small barren room consisting of two single beds, a rickety bureau, and a wooden chair with spokes missing. On the upside it appeared clean—or clean enough.

“So, what exactly do we have planned?” Blood had his usual wiseguy smirk in place.

“No fuckin’ clue.”

“I say, we hire a guy with a wrecking ball and just level the dump.”

“I know you’re being a ballbuster but it’s not the worst idea.” I dropped my duffel on one of the beds, then hunched down to look under it. Satisfied I threw back the bedspread and sheets. Old, but clean.

“What the fuck are you lookin’ for?”

“Bugs, tarantulas, snakes. Anything that ain’t human.”

“Geez, fuck, why did you have to mention tarantulas?” Blood shivered. “I hate spiders.”

“You’re afraid of spiders?” I grinned at my six-foot-three, two-hundred-thirty pound VP. “Nice to know something scares you.”

Blood flung his duffel on the other bed, then crouched down peering under the bed. When he straightened up I was still grinning at him.

“Fuck you for putting that image in my head.”

I laughed out loud. “Yeah, I can see this living arrangement is gonna work out great.”

“The first fuckin’ thing we’re doin’ is adding on another room up here so your OCD don’t rub off on me.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that, brother.”

Blood unzipped his duffel and pulled out some clothes. “Can’t fuckin’ believe we’re in the ass-end of Mexico in a beat to shit strip joint.”

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