Page 30

The look on my face must have conveyed my concern because Dex decided to stand and walk toward where we held church.

“We’re gonna need to inform people that we think the Reapers may retaliate. We have to be ready for what this might dredge up. See where you can get with Ryan. Gunner, don’t fuck this up.” He stopped and looked at me. “You need pussy—there’s plenty here to scratch the itch. But we have shit to accomplish with Los Muertos.”

My head hit the back of the couch.

Fuck, he’s right.

There was too much riding on this partnership. I couldn’t fuck it up. I was sure that whatever connection I made with Ryan, I was going to watch it be shredded to pieces when this was all over. That thought caused my heart to ache, and I didn’t know what to think of my reaction.

One thing I knew for sure was that while she may hate me when this was all over with, I would do everything in my power to make sure she came out of this as unscathed as possible. Use whatever resources I had to keep her from feeling the blowback of what was to come.

Because every instinct I had told me something was coming. The tides were shifting, and we were all about to be fucking hit. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I’d learned a long time ago to listen to my instincts.

They’d saved my life and the lives of others time and time again.

Ryan

Mercury had to be in retrograde.

Or whatever the fuck Nikki called it when she blamed the planet for life’s fuck-ups. Because the night the Reapers showed up at Lotería was definitely a fuck-up. After Gunner left, I ensured my unwanted guests made it back to their home. Dropped them off right outside their gate like any good Uber driver would do.

Almost thought we would have to trash the van. I was pretty positive my nose hairs were now blond from inhaling bleach fumes. And one of the newbie Muertos lost his lunch watching the river of blood run out while hosing it down. Pussy.

A frustrated groan left my lips as I leaned back in my office chair, closing my eyes. I’d been racking my brain for answers to why the Reapers showed up here. Most of the crime world viewed me as an anomaly. If they knew about me. Some vaguely knew Mario kept a woman close, but he always had so many women circling him that they just lumped me in with those bitches and moved on.

OGs knew Sergio had taken in a teenage girl ten years ago, but once my gender was mentioned, they didn’t feel the need to learn anything more about me. Most of the time, players, especially new ones, only knew “Ryan” ran shit for Sergio and Mario in the Tucson area. And like The Skeletons of Society had, they all thought I had a dick between my legs.

But the Reapers should have known who I was.

A few years ago, I personally delivered a message to their clubhouse that they were to stay out of Tucson and Los Muertos’s territory. And they sure as fuck were not allowed in Lotería. The bat I took to the bike and the man who assaulted one of my girls should have made the message pretty damn clear.

When Sergio let me have Lotería, I knew I would protect my girls with every fiber of my being. It was why these giant-ass men worked here. Almost all the girls were survivors of something. I didn’t ask any questions. Their pasts were theirs and theirs alone. They didn’t have to share anything with me.

But I did have some strict rules.

They were all drug tested. Other than marijuana, I didn’t want them on shit. They pissed hot, and they could work at Peepers. They got to keep every dollar they made on that stage and private dances, but no sex acts in the club. I wasn’t going to get randomly searched because rumors leaked that you could get a margarita and a dick suck at Lotería. That would make it dangerous for the less than legal activities we ran out of here.

For the patrons, there was one hard and fast rule. They weren’t ever to touch any of the girls. The reaper I beat to a pulp went way beyond that rule, and they had all been banned ever since.

So why the fuck did the Reapers think my rules had changed? I hadn’t heard of any changes in power over at their MC, but I’d never seen any of the three that had showed up at the club. Spinner was not the same sergeant at arms I knew. And what the hell did he need to see Mario for?

“Muñeca, you look stressed. Is the something causing you problems?”

A chill ran down my spine at the sound of that voice. My eyes popped open, and I was met with the view of Mario leaning against the frame of my office door.

The wolf in sheep’s clothing. Or Gucci, rather.

Where Sergio was the embodiment of cholo from the hood, Mario was a complete one-eighty. I’d never seen him out of a tailored suit and expensive loafers. There was no denying that Mario was handsome, but he never made me wet just by looking at him. Until recently, I didn’t even know that could happen.

I took a moment to collect myself, not wanting to let him know how startled I was to see him.

“Mario, what are you doing here? I didn’t realize you were going to be coming to Tucson. Usually, you let me know when you’re coming to visit.” A slight tremor was evident in my voice.

I felt like a rabbit captured in a trap when he looked at me, his cold gaze always calculated and assessing. It was one of the first things I noticed when we’d met in that alley all those years ago. At times I felt more like an object he possessed than someone he cared for, as he claimed. Yet despite all of that, I always stayed at his side. Afraid to lose the only affection I’d received since my parents were killed.

My eyes tracked his movement as he walked from the doorway to in front of my desk. I focused on slowing my breathing and gaining control of my reactions.

Of course he was going to make me wait for his answer. He hated when I questioned him. Didn’t matter that it was a logical fucking question since, last I heard, he was in Mexico.