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She didn’t bother stopping her exit, opting to throw her answer over her shoulder. “No sé. Ask your president. He’s the one who told Sergio he wanted me to come. Probably to make sure your winning personality didn’t fuck up the partnership. Robert will show you guys out.”

“Hey,” I called after her once more. “Don’t wear anything like you’re wearing tonight on Friday.”

That comment made her pause. She turned around with a look of confusion and peered down at her outfit before meeting my eyes. With a mischievous smirk, she blew me a kiss and flipped me off before walking out of sight. Robert, as Ryan called him, cracked up.

“Hey ése, word of advice on Brujita there. Her bite is just as bad as her bark. Worse, actually. That’s a woman who doesn’t need a man to stand in front of her. She needs one who knows when to stand beside her, behind her, or kneel in front of her. ¿Entiendes? You do those things for her, and she’ll gift you her submission and loyalty. And that woman is loyal…to a fault.” I looked over at Robert, taken aback by his statement. The last part was said under his breath, but I still caught it. And the implication that someone was taking advantage of her made my jaw tick. But before I could form a response, Dex jumped in.

“What kind of jedi love shit was that, Robert? Damn. That had me all up in me feels.” He thrust his phone out toward the guy. “Imma need you to write down some brilliant shit like that so I can use it when I’m sexting chicks.”

I rolled my eyes at Dex. But Robert’s words played on repeat in my head.

* * *

I used the whole ride to the compound to try to sort out what the fuck I was feeling. There was a lot to think about after that meeting with Los Muertos. Not including the Mexican beauty. It dawned on me why Ryan would be required to come to the clubhouse Friday night, and I was not happy about it.

The moment my bike was parked, I was off and striding into the clubhouse. Dex hadn’t even fully come to a stop, but he called after me.

“Gunner. It’s club rules, and Sergio would have known when he switched from Mario to Ryan. You can’t do anything about it, so don’t do anything stupid. You know what’s at stake.”

I clenched my teeth at his words, knowing he was right, but I was still pissed off. I reined in my anger before walking up to talk to Pres over at the bar. Disrespecting him would get me a bloody lip and black eye at best, and a shallow grave out back at worst.

Taking a slow sip of his whiskey, Pres looked me up and down, taking in my demeanor.

“Watch yourself, Gunner. I may give you more rope than most, but that just means there’s more available for you to hang yourself with.”

I waved a hand, dismissing his concern. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” I plopped my ass down on the stool and signaled for a beer. “But did you know Sergio’s new man is a woman?”

Pres cocked an eyebrow at my statement.

So he hadn’t known.

I took a beer out of a prospect’s hands. I needed alcohol in me as quickly as possible, and I didn’t care if I was being a dick about it.

“I heard rumblings there was a woman Sergio and Mario kept rather close. I thought it was Mario’s bitch or something.” My grip tightened around the bottle at hearing Ryan be referred to as a bitch. But I didn’t say anything. A reaction from me would raise questions about why was pissed. Questions I didn’t have an answer to.

“I didn’t realize she was actually involved in the cartel side of shit,” he added.

Nodding my head, I took a swig of my beer before launching into the specifics of the meeting.

“Made complete asses of ourselves, Pres. Sergio seemed to enjoy that, though. We thought Ryan was going to be someone with a dick. So when a woman barged in”—I took another swig while shaking my head at the memory—“I told her she could take her sweet ass out to get our drinks and remember her place before coming back in.” My rough hand raked over my face, recalling her fierce look when I was giving orders thinking she was Nikki. I heard a burst of laughter from my left and looked over at Pres, who seemed to be just as amused as Sergio’d been. Fucking old pricks.

After a moment, he settled down enough to continue the conversation. “So, does she know how to run an operation, or are we going to have to do a fuck ton of work before we can even attempt running the first shipment?”

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose because I wasn’t entirely sure what that answer was. “Well, I don’t know how much she actually does or if she just delegates and sits her cute ass up in her office. But Los Muertos’s setup was impressive. They hide the guns in tequila crates, and because they run a popular Latin club known for its selection of Mexican tequilas…no one bats an eye at the truckloads from Mexico they receive.”

I looked over to see Pres nodding his head in approval. “Well, I guess we’ll see what this Ryan chick is made of come Friday night.”

I groaned at his response. “Pres, you’re not really going to make her participate on Friday, are you? I mean, you didn’t see her. She’s not cut from the same cloth as us. She was wearing a white suit to the meeting, God dammit. I don’t even know how she got involved with Los Muertos, but I bet she’s basically their interior designer and club manager. It probably just gets her pussy wet to play arms dealer.”

Cutting me a glare, a hint of a threat in his tone, he said, “Gunner, every fuckin’ person involved is required to participate. It’s in our bylaws, and I told Sergio about them before making the deal. Made sure he knew exactly what would be required of them if we partnered. The loyalty and toughness they would have to show. So, if she’s as prissy as you say, then Sergio is sending her to the wolves on purpose.”

He tapped his fingertips on the bar top, clearly in the middle of a thought.

“In fact, stay close to her on Friday. I want to figure out why she’s being led to slaughter and why we’re being used for that.” He paused, looking me in the eye. “Maybe Friday was just a convenient opportunity because Sergio knew about it before pulling Mario.” Pres pushed to stand up. “Fuck, maybe his son is just a pussy.”

Ryan

I peered out my windshield at the chain-link fence in front of me. I’d done my research, unlike knuckleheads one and two. The Skeletons had a ten-foot-tall chain-link fence surrounding the entire compound with razor wire along the top. A rolling fence that was constantly manned was the only way in or out. And if you did get in, you had to contend with a clubhouse built to withstand a goddamned war filled with armed bikers.