Page 38 of Mex

Jesus Christ.

This man is a monster.

“Donotthreaten me,” I whisper spit.

My mother never took kindly to threats.

“Find out the information. Report back to me. Do not fuck me over.”

With that, he hangs up.

I exhale the breath I feel like I was hanging onto for that entire call. It isn’t enough to keep him satisfied for long, but it’ll do for now until I can get this biker club dealt with. I need to get them off my back so I can get the hell out of this mess and work out what I’m going to do after it. I can’t actually allow them to take Marek down, not when the work he and my mother do together brings in millions. He’s too important to the world I come from.

The bikers are going to have to focus on something else.

I wonder ... Could I give them something else to focus on? Could I give them a new path, a new direction? I know enough bad people that I could easily throw one of them under the bus and put the bikers’ attention on them. The idea isn’t a bad one, hell, it’s probably the best one I’ve had yet. I just need to find out why exactly they want to find Marek and my mother and bring them down, and then I’ll know what’ll spark their interest.

Feeling rather pleased with myself, I quickly dial Jayme’s number.

“Yeah?”

“It’s me,” I say quickly. “I don’t have long; I just want you to know all is good and I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“I’ve been tryin’ to find you. Got to stop going MIA, Acacia.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I swear, I’ll explain everything.”

The door handle twists.

“I have to go.”

I hang up the phone just as Mex steps into the room. I toss it at him, and he catches it with one hand, his eyes scanning my face, as if he can tell by just one look if I’m up to something. Pushing to my feet, I say to him, “Where can I sleep? After you and your crew decided to beat me up, I am in desperate need of rest.”

“Follow me.”

His voice is gruff as he turns and walks out. I follow him down the halls of the club, passing a few bikers and a couple of random half naked girls on the way. I give the girls a disgusted expression, mostly because they’re looking at me like Mex just dragged me from the gutter and brought me in here.

“Can I help you?”

This comes from a tiny blond girl with cut off shorts and a top so small I’m not certain how it’s actually keeping her breasts in. She flicks her long blond hair over her shoulder as she throws a hand onto her hip and stares at me. I pause, jerking my head back in disgust and making sure she can see just how vile I find her by the expression on my face.

“Please do not speak to me like you’re somehow better,” I tell her. “We really don’t need to go down that road. You know, me having to explain to you how the fact that you’re a whore in a biker club makes you as cheap as boxed wine on a Saturday sale.”

Mex growls, low in his throat, mostly with frustration.

Taking my arm before the girl can throw out her response, he jerks me down the hall after him.

“Can you go five single fuckin’ minutes without runnin’ your mouth?”

“She started it,” I mutter. “I’m a factual person, she needed to know the truth.”

“Trust me,” he grinds out, opening a door and pulling me inside, “sheknows.”

The room we step into is weirdly clean and well organized. The bed is made, the floor is tidy, and there are no clothes or shoes or anything, for that matter, lying around. Whoever stays in here certainly knows how to keep a clear space.

“Don’t touch a fuckin’ thing. Lay in the bed, sleep, and then I’ll find another place for you.”

Oh.

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