Page 5 of Burning Bridges

My heart thumps in my chest. He's trying to be kind, extend the olive branch, but the offer of help coming from him makes me feel even worse. Even though I really could use some financial help before I have to start selling off assets, and I know he has built an empire worth a small fortune, so he would be good for the cash, but I could never ask for it from him.

"I don't need any charity, Axel. Go inside to your new family and leave me to deal with my life," I snap, spinning on my heel and storming off down the driveway. He should know me better.

I leave Axel's place, determined to work things out on my own like I always do. My nerves are shot, and my chest aches with a sudden pain. I head straight to the closest bar, The Joker, which used to be owned by my family. My grandfather bought it back in the seventies, and Tony later rebranded it to be the bar it is today. The usual crowd consists of old bikers and delinquents, rowdy as they play pool, darts, or whatever card game is on offer. Flat-screen TVs showcase sports or MMA, since this town is obsessed with the sport, mostly due to the money they can make on illegal betting. On the weekends, the crowd gets even rowdier and often ends up in some sort of bar fight. This afternoon, though, it's quiet.

“One vodka and Coke please Mick,” I ask the bar tender taking a seat at the bar.

"You shouldn't be in here, girly." He eyes me with suspicion.

"You know what, Mick, I have no fucks left to give today. Let Leo or one of his brothers find me here and toss me out on the street," I reply with a hint of annoyance.

He places the drink down on the bar in front of me with a kind smile I don't deserve. "Here you are then."

"Thank you." I bring the cold drink up to my lips and chug it down. Polishing it off a little too quickly, the bubbles from the Coke burn the inside of my nose.

"Another?" he offers.

"Please."

An older man takes the seat beside me, his eyes raking over me with curiosity. "Piper Acevedo, been a long time since I've seen you in this bar." His words wobble out like he's spent the afternoon with his lips attached to a beer bottle. "Is it really you, or just a figment of my imagination?"

"It's really me, Ronny." I sigh, wishing I could be left alone to wallow in my pity, but of course, the town drunk wants to strike up a conversation.

"Well, how's that, Mick? The princess is alive. It's been so long since we saw you. Me and the boys over here had bets on you being dead, just like that no-good brother of yours."

I drink down the contents of my glass, then tap the bar for another. My brother Tony had a certain sort of notoriety in Palm Springs, the town we have called home our entire lives, and he owned half of it. He was the boss of the Acevedos gang, and that came with certain responsibilities and a whole lot of power, which he got off on a little too much, if you ask me. It also made him an enemy of most of the residents.

"No such luck, I'm still kicking." I glare at him, hoping he takes the hint that I want to be left alone.

"I'm not disappointed. I always thought you were better than that family you were born into. I can see it in your eyes, you're meant for more. After your daddy was gone, we thought things were going to get better around here. We all knew what he was up to. He might have worn a fancy suit and a grin, looking like a businessman, but he wasn't fooling anyone. He deserved what happened to him," he says too casually, like he's not talking about my family.

“I’m sure,” I say, downing the next drink quickly. The burn in my throat is almost soothing compared to the ache in my chest. I should leave, I should face Leo head-on, but the liquid courage is too tempting.

Ronny leans in closer, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Ace was worse, though, wasn't he? Him and his gang of thugs wreaked havoc in our town. Luckily, we have the Riveras now." He raises a brow to see if I agree. "Their father was honorable. A hero. He saved many lives the night of that fire, mine included."

I turn back to Mick, sick of this asshole and his trip down memory lane. The next drink goes down just as easily as the first, and I signal for another.

"Are you sure, miss?" Mick asks.

I glare at him. Of course, I'm sure. Do I look like a girl who can't hold her liquor? That's what my eyes say, but I don't feel like using actual words. Mick scurries behind the bar to make my drink and places it on the counter in front of me. One more, that’s probably all I can afford to have after taking that Xanax earlier, and then I'll go meet the asshole who is hell-bent on destroying my life but apparently is everyone else's hero.

Chapter 4

LEO

I'minanunusuallypleasant mood tonight, ready for a little entertainment. I push open the solid wood door of The Joker, one of my younger brother Kobe's many drinking establishments in Palm Springs. These days, between the three of our families—my brothers and me, the Stone brothers, and the Harper sisters—we own this entire town. Well, the parts that matter, anyway.

I hadn't planned on dropping by here tonight, but my usual Tuesday meeting was a no-show, and I have it on good authority from our bartender, Mick, that she stood me up to get shitfaced on cheap vodka. Her choice of bar surprises me; I would have expected to find out she skipped town. But to show her face in Rivera territory is like she’s rubbing my nose in her insubordination. Not a very smart idea.

She isn't hard to find; she stands out in this place like a sore thumb. Long, olive-toned legs crossed one over the other, flowing into black stiletto boots. Her dress is skin-tight; it could be painted on the way I can make out every inch of her curvaceous figure. It's also black as the night, the only color she seems to wear these days. Other people might not notice details like that, but I do, especially when it comes to this particular female.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Drowning your sorrows on a Tuesday? How miserable," I say to torment her. I can't remember a time when I have ever seen her looking so disheveled. Her body is slouched over the bar like she's looking down into her drink. Her normally sleek raven hair is pulled into a high ponytail, but it's a little lopsided, with strands of long dark hair spilling out completely. If I didn’t know better, I would have to assume she was more than just a little intoxicated. How very unlike her.

Her back straightens with awareness of who is approaching, but she doesn't turn around to face me. "What do you want, Rivera?" she mutters, taking another sip of what looks like a vodka and Coke. Any other person, I would have said rum and Coke, but I know everything there is to know about this girl, and I know her liquor of choice is vodka.

I take a step closer to the bar, signaling to Mick for my usual. "You sound surprised to see me, but you shouldn't be. We had a meeting scheduled at five, remember? It’s well past seven now. I'm a busy man, and I don't like chasing monthly payments. You of all people should know that, Princess."

Angry eyes flick up to me, and I feel the icy-cold chill radiating off her. "Don’t call me that," she spits back, her tone pure venom. Her eyes are filled with a dark rage; I see it every time she looks at me, but with the thick black lashes that frame her brown eyes, she looks like a doll—a morbid one, but too pretty to be so hostile. Even so, she is. She despises me, even blames me for the pain she's in, but her anger is misdirected. If she took the time to look hard enough, she would work that out, but it's easier to blame me than deal with her reality. "Give me another week," she says bluntly. Anyone would think she didn't just ask me for a massive fucking favor. No one other than her would get away with even requesting it.

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