Page 79 of Miguel

“Let her breathe!” someone shouted.

“¡No coman pan en frente de los pobres!” another one screamed.

I wasn’t sure who’d said that, but I found myself laughing at the expression. ‘Don’t eat bread in front of the poor’ never failed to make my eyes water with laughter. I wasn’t sure who was implying they were starved for a kiss, but I opened my mouth to tease Miguel about sharing.

His hand cracked down against my ass as he yanked me closer, grinding his dick against me. “Don’t even think about making a fucking joke, nena.”

I pushed my tongue against my cheek to hide my smirk. “I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

“¡Órale! Get your asses over here! You can suck face later.” Loco waved from in front of the smoking grill. He had tongs in one hand and a beer in the other.

“Go on ahead, nena,” he urged. “I just need to get the bottles out the back.”

I didn’t want to go out there all alone, but I knew he also wasn’t going to let me help him carry the boxes of tequila that looked like they’d last for weeks, but I knew it was all going to be consumed today.

I didn’t protest as I wandered out to the compound’s yard. Their residence was set like a bull’s eye, with tall walls erected around it. I turned the curve and made it back to where the asada was taking place.

It was already filled with many of his brothers and their families. There were a lot more men than women, I noticed, and a lot of young, single men. The older bikers sat around tables with women and kids and teenagers. Everyone had a drink in hand and a plate filled with food.

“‘Bout damn time,” Loco called out. “Quick, come gimme a smooch before Miguel comes out.”

I felt my face heat. I knew he was joking, and yet the words made me uneasy. Right before I saw the flash of humor on Loco’s tattooed face.

Of course he wasn’t serious.

I had to remind myself that these weren’t like movie or show bikers. Sure, Loco had gone to jail, done his time, but these were real people, and Miguel’s family. My family now, too.

I smirked in Loco’s direction. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“I ain’t scared of Migue, nena.”

“You should be.” Miguel arrived with the boxes, shooting his president and best friend a glare. He set the boxes down and immediately his friend began to rib him again. Soon, they started throwing fists in a play-fight, though the movements were rough enough to make me wince. Beer sloshed over the rim of Loco’s glass as he took a fist to the cheek, something that only made him cackle in a way that seemed almost maniacal.

“Loco likes to tease, but he’s harmless.”

My attention was pulled away at those words from a woman I hadn’t seen or met before.

She was gorgeous. That was the first thing I noticed about her. The second thing I noticed was she was downrightfrightening.

Her black, shiny waves were pulled tight on the back of her head. Her edges were curled against her temples and cheeks and held down with gel in the perfect form of waves. Her brows were darkly painted in, her winged liner so sharp it was like the tip of a blade. Rich, light brown skin was decorated in a sleeve of a bright tattoo in the form of La Virgen de Guadalupe. Clad in a tight leather top that pushed up the generous curves of her breasts, my eyes immediately settled there. Not to ogle her skin, but to stare at the tattoo she had there.

It was all dark lettering and looping swirl, the words all but jumping off her skin.

Property of Ink.

My eyes flicked back up to her face, and I could feel the flush heating my cheeks. I was sure she’d caught me staring at her chest, and she probably thought I was a creep. Thankfully, she didn’t say anything about it. Her smirk was knowing, and her eyes shone with mirth.

“Loco flirts with me all the time, but he doesn’t mean anything by it.” She flashed a white smile.

Her badassery made a sudden flutter of nerves pass through me, but I hoped my words didnt convey it. “I know.”

“Really? Because for a second, it looked like you were pretty scared.”

I wanted to bristle, but the harshness of her words were soothed as she came up next to me and gently threw her arm around my shoulders, tugging me close.

She smelled like leather and smoke and ink. “So, you’re the VP’s new Vieja. I’m Xiomara. I’m Ink’s, but of course, you know that.” Her voice was tinged with teasing that made a flush crawl over my skin.

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