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His hand wrapped around a frame that held a picture of Nikki and me when we received the keys to our apartment. His eyes narrowed, and he pursed his lips in displeasure.

The two had never gotten along. Nikki was vocal about her distaste for Mario, so I made sure to keep them far away from one another. Mario tended to have a short fuse for disrespect, and even I wouldn’t be able to save Nikki from Mario’s wrath if she pissed him off. I told her that too.

When he spoke again, there was an edge to his tone, warning me that I was trying his patience with my questions. The need to roll my eyes at his theatrics was overwhelming.

“Muñeca, have you forgotten? I’m heir to this empire, and I’m the owner of this club that I let you run for me. I may show up whenever I please and with as much or as little notice as I wish to give.” He held my gaze, daring me to object.

The emphasis on let grated on my nerves, but I held my tongue. Opting to dig my nails into my palms instead.

“Of course, Mario. I was surprised that you were here.” I gave him what I hoped looked like a sweet smile, trying to smooth over the tension between us.

A wolfish grin appeared on his face. He always was pleased with my submission. For the first time in a long time, I wondered why I let Mario treat me like the nickname he’d given me—a doll.

“Now, back to my original question, Muñeca. What is it that is bringing you stress?” he prodded.

His insistence on getting me to answer this question piqued my interest. I zeroed in on his body language, looking for tells.

Mario didn’t ever care what was happening at Lotería. At least, he never cared to know about the problems. All he wanted was to know what Lotería’s successes were so he could claim them as his own. But the problems—he couldn’t give two fucks about knowing those. In fact, it was my job to make sure those problems got fixed before they ever made it to Mario’s ears. So why was he wondering what was happening now? Maybe he was concerned because he thought the problems causing me stress were personal.

Those were the problems he tended to be overly invested in.

I slipped into my interrogator persona, not wanting to give information away with my tone or body language.

“Some reapers showed up the other night. When they have been expressly banned from the club. But the fuckers still decided to come to Los Muertos territory. So I delivered a message about how I felt regarding their disrespect.” I paused, leaning forward on my desk. Assessing him. “But what I want to know is why those pendejos thought they would be welcome to begin with.”

I didn’t mention that they asked to see him, trying to figure out if he already knew that tidbit. Mario looked down and picked at the nonexistent lint on his sleeve before speaking.

“Hmm, I see. Did you happen to ask them why they were in my establishment? Or did you let your thirst for blood take over?” he asked, his tone tight.

I bristled at his words but answered his question.

“I did ask. He said they wanted to speak to someone in charge. When I told him that was me, the conversations died.”

Mario looked up at that, raising an eyebrow. His insinuation made me roll my eyes.

“No, Mario. The conversation didn’t die because I killed him.” I bit my lip, realizing my following words wouldn’t sound like a less violent alternative.

“It died because I shot him in the kneecap.”

That drew a genuine laugh from him. Something I hadn’t heard in years.

“Muñeca, you never cease to amaze me.”

The men gave me whiplash with their moods. First Gunner, now Mario. The icy tone he’d been using was gone. Replaced with the joking tone that pulled at my heart.

“That’s why you stay around. You think he’s redeemable. He’s not, and you will get yourself killed waiting around for it.”

Nikki’s drunk words popped into my head, my mind creating a replica of the sorrowful tone in her voice. Like her warning was based on personal events.

“I’m so glad I kept you all those years ago. Now, put the Reapers out of your mind. I’ll take care of anything that comes up on that end,” he said, pulling me to the present.

That brought a scowl to my face. He never wanted to handle anything, but Mario didn’t bother giving any further explanation. Instead, he moved on to the reason I was assuming he was here.

“But we do have some business to discuss. I need you to arrange a meeting with the sergeant at arms from the MC we partnered with. I want to make sure he’s aware of what is expected of him.”

Before I could even respond, he was making his way back out of my office.

“Make that for today, Muñeca,” he demanded.