Page 10 of Loving Smoke

“I was very interested to see what everyone in the neighborhood has been talking about.” He waved his arms toward the club. “It’s amazing what you’ve done. So many changes in so little time.”

“Yeah well, I don’t know who was running the show before, but this place was a rathole.”

“Yes, very unfortunate. The former owner just couldn’t keep up with his payments. I understand your boss grabbed it up for practically nothing, then instructed you to run it.”

“First off, I don’t have a boss.” I was gonna set this fucker straight right away. “And secondly, I don’t answer to anyone.” A fuckin’ lie, for sure. Jameson had the power to fuck with my life like no other, but I had to come from a position of strength.

“That’s not what I hear.” Rico paused for effect. “My sources tell me you and your friend,” he jerked his chin at Blood, “are down here as some sort of punishment.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Although I can’t see being in our tropical paradise as punishment.”

“And my sources tell me you’re blaming our club for some shit that had nothing to do with us.” Might as well rip that band-aid off and get right down to business.

Sandoval’s eyes widened and for a split second his face clouded over, then just as fast he recouped. “So you say.”

“No, that’s how it is. The Royal Bastards had nothing to do with it. We may dip our fingers into a lot of shady shit, but women and children are off-limits—always.”

“I would like to believe that, but I know what I saw on the security cameras and I know what was reported to me.”

“Can’t always believe everything you see or hear, right?”

“Hmmm, well, for the sake of business I will put my personal feelings behind me. I’ve learned over the years mixing business with sentimental anger can have costly effects both monetarily and individually.”

“Smart move.”

“I only want to wish you the best here in our little paradise.”

Only one problem, two percent of the population enjoyed the paradise, the other ninety-eight percent were working their asses off for shit salaries while the cartel got rich.

I slapped my palms on my desktop and stood. “Tonight’s our opening night, so unless you got something else to say?—”

Rico slowly stood, then smoothed down the front of his white linen shirt. “Just wanted to welcome you to my neighborhood. You’ll find we’re a very gracious community.” Rico strode to the door and turned. “I’ll be back next week when you’re less busy, and we can discuss the business end of our relationship.”

Blood pushed off the desk. “What the fu—” I grabbed Blood’s arm and shot him a look.

“Until next week, then.” Rico slithered out the door like a slimy snake, slamming the door behind him.

“What the fuck was that?” Blood threw his massive arms up in the air. “Some kinda threat?”

“Calm down. You’re doin’ exactly what he wants. You gotta handle him cool.”

“You didn’t believe all that bullshit about putting the past behind him and forgetting old grievances.”

“Of course not, but for now we gotta play the game. When we get more settled here we start to do some digging. I have a feeling Tijuana has an underground of people who know exactly what’s going on and we just gotta find out the right information.”

“I hope you’re right, but you know damn well what he’s gonna say next week.”

“He’s gonna press us to pay protection, and that’s when we make our deal.”

“What deal?”

“When we were tearing this place apart remember we found a crawl space under the main floor.”

“The entrance is from the side alley, but it was all mud and garbage.”

“Until we dug it deeper, braced up the dirt walls and floored it.”

“Right, we did that so this whole place doesn’t float away on the next rain, but what does that have to do with Sandoval?”

“The whole area is the length of the bar and about four and a half feet high. You and I will have to crouch down to get in there, but with the concealed entrance it’s the perfect spot for hiding shit.”

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