Page 2 of Miguel

Besides, even though Natalia was hot with tits I should have wanted to fuck, my dick didn’t even stir to life.

“You good, Migue?” Loco asked, wrapping his arms around two club putas. They began sucking at his neck with practiced ease, and the girl wrapped around me tried doing the same. I wanted to distance her from me, but then I knew Loco would definitely ask questions that I didn’t have any answers to.

“Migue, you’re wanted at the gate.”

Saved by the bell.

I didn’t question the prospect who summoned me, too eager to get away. I lightly pushed Natalia aside with a smirk. “Sorry, muñeca. Duty calls.”

Her bottom lip jutted out in a pout that didn’t last long. She already moved her attention towards Loco, dropping to her knees in front of him, her hands tugging at his belt. His fly parted and she swallowed his dick whole, causing the prez to drop his head back with a satisfied groan.

I turned away with a huff, following the prospect through the bar.

When we made it outside, a wave of heat hit my face, causing a sheen of sweat to rise against my brow. I shielded my skin against the harsh Mexican sun with the palm of my hand, walking towards the tall-rising wall of the compound.

Our clubhouse was practically a fortress. The bones of an old, abandoned factory that landed into Loco’s hands, cleaned up and fortified, with tall walls thorned with electric, barbed wire at the top.

Dogs roamed the edge of the property. Strays we’d taken off the streets that had vicious, mean bites, and purebred pitties and rottweilers with spiked leather collars.

Our place was meant to be unwelcoming to outsiders. Crime ran rampant in Tlaxcala. While cartels didn’t settle here, branches of their organizations did. Though we mostly kept the peace with established businesses, it was the petty thieves we had to watch out for. Brave hijos de puta who were looking to make a quick buck by breaking in and stealing shit they could pawn off online or at chop shops.

They were the real shit stains of the city. Them and the darker cartels that kidnapped and forced prostitution in nearby towns.

Los Diablos was just one gang among many, though we’d already built up a reputation for ourselves, and nobody dared fuck with us or our operation. Not if they wanted to live.

A second prospect stood by our front gate, flailing his arms in frantic movements. Unease trickled down my spine at the sight of his distress. My feet picked up the pace, rushing across the dry space until we reached him.

“What the fuck’s going on?!” I demanded.

My fingers itched to reach for the gun tucked into my jeans. If there was a problem, why hadn’t they called Loco or the others? My instincts were always right, and I wondered if this unease I’d been feeling had anything to do with this. Was shit about to go down?

“I tried to stop her, Migue.” The prospect stumbled over his words, arms still flailing. “She just dropped him and sped away!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked with irritation.

His hands waved again, gesturing at my side. I finally looked down, eyes widening as I took in the small boy standing there. How hadn’t I noticed him at all?

He stood at my side, hugging a stuffed bunny to his chest, the toy dirty and missing an ear, stuffing half-hanging out. The kid had dark curls and a light-brown complexion, wide dark eyes regarding me with fear, his lower lip trembling. He didn’t appear to be any older than five. He looked like a sad sight, clutching the toy tightly to his chest, a backpack weighing him down and a small suitcase on the ground in front of him.

What the fuck?

I must’ve screamed those words, because the kid flinched away from me as if I’d struck him.

“She stopped in front of the gate, said she wanted to talk to you. She didn’t even wait two minutes before she pulled the kid out of the car and dropped his bags and drove away!”

What the fuck’s that have to do with me?I didn’t say those words aloud. I didn’t want to scare the kid any more than I already had. I looked down at him. His eyes were trained on me, openly gawking.

“What’s your name?” I asked, my voice barking of its own volition.

He didn’t respond. He stared.

“Who was she?” I turned back to the disgruntled prospect.

What kind of bitch just dropped her kid off and sped away?

“Said her name was Yenny. Tossed this at me before she hauled ass out of here.” The prospect handed me a folded scrap of paper.

Unfolding it, my eyes sped across the wrinkled page, a curse springing to my lips. It was simple and to the point.

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