Page 12 of The Vows We Keep
I pull up the photograph of my papá. “This is my father. He was vice president. You told me the club came for you, but he wasn’t one of the ones you killed.”
King hisses air in between his teeth, as if he’s disgusted by what he revealed. “You know I can’t be confirming or denying that shit.”
“I really don’t want to hurt you again,” I say, surprised to find I actually mean it. I brush a finger across the bruise blooming where the butt of my gun hit him hard. “I need to understand. I ...” I debate telling him what I suspect, but how can I expect him to be honest with me if I’m not honest with him? “I watched that group of eight men leave. My papá was at the front, with Mateo, the road captain, to his left. You said my papá wasn’t there. Even if we don’t answer why my father wasn’t, Mateo should have led the crew to your meet. But the description you gave of the man up front doesn’t match Mateo or the third guy, Felipe.”
“You think some funky shit went down?” he asks.
“I came to understand what happened to my father. To bring him home if that’s possible. Now I want to understand why he didn’t come back. I need your help. Please.”
5
NIRO
The way she sayspleasereverberates through my chest.
I owe Cat nothing. She took me by force. Put drugs in my system. And tried to force information from me.
And yet ...
I’m as confused by this whole fucking Los Reyes thing as I am by her.
I thought we’d put this to bed months ago.
“How do I know this isn’t a trap? You could have been sent here by your club to get information from me about a hypothetical meetup. Your club could be camped a mile from our clubhouse, waiting for some signal from you that it’s time to go wreak havoc on my brothers.”
Cat sighs. “I can’t prove to you that I haven’t. All I’ve got is my word.”
Hope is a funny fucker. And for all I don’t know about Cat, I can see the moment when it starts to ebb out from her. It’s in the slump of her shoulders, the way she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees as her fingers tangle with one another.
Usually, it’s the sweetest moment, to have someone capitulate in front of you. To know you have them right where you want them, so you can manipulate them at your will. Maybe all those drugs in my system have done something no one else has been able to. They make me feel the slightest sting of regret for causing her to feel ... sad.
“Tell me shit I shouldn’t know,” I say. “Cut me from this chair. Give me my phone back. You want me to trust you and tell you shit I shouldn’t ... you need to trust me and do the same.”
Her eyes narrow. “You know no club trusts the club women with their secrets.” I can hear the disdain in her words. This woman yearns for the life but isn’t allowed to be a part of it, unless they need her to be. Knowing someone’s weakness is good intelligence, and I file it away.
“You strike me as a woman who might be good at collecting secrets, Cat. Tell me what you know.”
She leans back in the chair. “I’m Catalina Maria Flores. I’m twenty-five. I do contract work for the Los Reyes Motorcycle Club based in Barstow, California. I ride a Street Glide Classic for long rides, but I prefer my Sportster 1200 Custom when I’m home. My father, Eduardo ‘Pensa’ Flores is vice president of the club. His road name is short forel pensador, the thinker. He’s known as a great strategist for the club. When the past president died, it was a very tight vote to replace him between my father and Daniel ‘Perrito’ Moreno.”
We’re close in age. I have a couple years on her. Bet she looks hot on a bike with that fine ass clad in leather. Would I fuck her on her bike if I’d met her in a bar?
No, I’d fuck her on mine.
It’s hot she rides. Even hotter that she’s a bad girl.
And I’d call her Catalina the whole time I was fucking her because I like the way the name rolls on my tongue as I discretely test it out.
Cat-a-lee-na.
Cat has a hard edge to it. But Catalina ... That’s a soft name.
Wait. It was a tight vote?
“Tell me more about the vote.”
“Four years ago, when the old president died, some felt my father should be the next president. He was sergeant at arms at the time, but he was so much more than that. He was full of ideas and understood the finances of the club. Should have been treasurer really, but the role bored him. He knew how to create opportunities. Under my father’s eye, the club finances flourished. In the reshuffle, he became vice president.”
There’s pride in her tone and a wistful look in her eye. She clearly looked up to this man. And as the actual treasurer of our club, I understand his views on the role. It’s boring as fuck. Crucial, but so mind-numbingly dull. And the worst form of punishment for someone like me who often struggles to focus. “So how did Perrito become president?”
