Page 21 of Their Princess

“Who let you in?” My question was more directed at my brothers standing around the table and doing nada to protect our place. Maybe we needed actual guard dogs to keep out the sleaze.

To the Rojas brothers, I asked, “Don’t you always come in threes? Where’s Caz?”

Like answering the call, Cazador walked out of the bunnies’ side of the clubhouse. He wore a shit-eating grin and was still buckling his belt.

Storming across the room, I grabbed Caz and threw him up against the wall. He was lighter than he looked with his pounds of flesh covered in dark tattoos. My efforts to keep guns from being drawn failed. The other Rojas brothers stood, and I heard the distinctive sounds—snaps releasing, rustling, and two unmistakable clicks.

Both Acero and el Fantasma had their barrels trained on me, ready to protect me if I hurt the leader of this little trio. My MC drew their guns too, and if I didn’t back off, we would go all down in a blaze of glory.

Spilled beer and a cunt weren’t reasons to die. Or so I had been told.

I dropped Caz, and he just barely caught himself. I had just been holding his clothing, but his feet had dangled off the ground. He must have had a massive wedgie because he picked at his butt as he hobbled away, rejoining his brothers. Before I faced the table again, I checked over my shoulder at the bitch who also emerged from the door. I didn’t spend time looking to see who it was, but I would punish the bunny later for letting some cartel fucker use her pussy.

As I finally faced the Rojas brothers, I noticed that Adelina and Rafe had entered, the latter a shadow behind his niece. So much for hoping the two would run away. As much I knew my duty to the club and our Prez, I didn’t have to like it, and I would sure as shit make sure Adelina didn’t like it either.

“What do you want?” I spat at the cartel.

The Rojases shared a look before Caz stepped up to me. He apparently grew his balls back. “We had a deal, Sas. Where is the money you owe us?”

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t move or blink.

My deal with the devil came back to bite me. I’d agreed to sell the cartel’s coke and return part of the profits to el Tigre through his henchmen—these three losers. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been aware they had someone tailing me after the shit that went down with Angel and his ol’ lady. They had also followed me to our warehouse down by the docks, my fuckup.

I hadn’t seen them then, but there had been this sick feeling in my gut. I’d known someone had been watching, and now, I was a fucking idiot who should’ve seen all this coming. Perhaps Angel had been right to dress me down in church for my rogue decision to try to build a new club business after all the states in the Southwest had legalized pot.

Hell, the attack at Bou’s shop was probably on me too.

How fucking long had they been watching my moves?

Shortly after we raided Amaranta Gambino’s operation up in San Bernardino National Forest, the Gambinos had blown up the warehouse, claiming we were encroaching on their market. Now the Medellín Cartel had come to my doorstep, wanting what I couldn’t pay.

“You misunderstood our deal,” I said.

The Rojas brothers chortled.

“Tell us, skinny man, what could we have possibly misunderstood?” asked Acero.

“The deal was to funnel part of the profits we made on your product. No profits. No deal.” I spread my hands to my sides and shrugged.

This wasn’t a good turn of events. I didn’t need to look back at Rafe—who had agreed to be our secretary, but still had to be a Mafia spy—or Adelina. This business didn’t involve them, but undoubtedly, word would get back to Massimo.

Caz shook his head. “I didn’t misunderstand anything, amigo.”

I stiffened as his brothers, who looked like hyenas behind him, drew closer. They were a pack, but so was my club.

“If you don’t have the money to pay us back,” said Caz, “we’ll take whatever you have as our own.” He took a long swig from a beer and then slammed it down on the table. Froth oozed up the neck and over the lip before sliding down to the table and dripping to the floor.

He had my beer. Had my bitch’s pussy. And now wanted my clubhouse. I probably should’ve expected him to piss at the entrance too, marking his territory. I would die before I let that happen.

I growled. “Get the fuck out of my house, Caz.”

“You owe el Tigre for the shipment you lost,” said Caz.

“Goddammit, I didn’t lose it!” My eyes flitted over to Rafe and Adelina as I gritted out, “The fucking Mafia bastards blew it up.”

“You see, amigo... how you lost it isn’t relevant. We don’t go back to the boss until we’ve collected the debts he’s owed,” said Caz.

Acero piped in, “Either money, blood, or bones, yo. Your choice.”

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