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“Fuck off, Ryan. I’m sorry I don’t get to sit up in my pretty tower and be entertained all day by beautiful people dancing bachata on stage in thongs,” she sassed back.

I rolled my eyes at her description of my life as we faced forward to watch the room again. She knew the picture she painted of my life was utter bullshit.

“First off, the men do not wear thongs on stage. I can’t get with the banana hammock look. Second off, you know that’s not all I do all day; you’re the one who delivers information on most of my other…clients. And third, no one is forcing you to get your face bashed in as a career.”

In my peripheral, I caught the finger she gave me for that comment. Making me snicker.

“Fuck right off, Ryan. This black eye is the result of a lucky jab. I bash the faces in. If you ever came to my fights, you would know,” she said.

Sam may have never joined a criminal organization, but her work wasn’t exactly legal. She was a well-known name in the fighting circuit. I was good, but Sam was better. She lived and breathed fighting. I knew she could make it out on the legal side, but she never gave me a straight answer to why she wouldn’t go.

Her tone changed. Catching up time was over. A grim sound in her voice told me I’d been right. Shifts were happening in the underbelly, and they were trying to stay hidden.

“Word on the street is Reapers had a mutiny. None of the officers are the same. Fresh meat is in power. But these fuckers are worse than the last bunch. And they have some outside involvement. But that bit of information is wrapped up tight.”

I nodded slightly, absorbing what she was saying. How did I not hear about a mutiny?

“Had a guy that claimed to know a bit of what’s going on, but I never got the info. Found him dead in the alley. They’re working hard at keeping their movements quiet. Prepping for something, Ryan.” Her voice was low and worried. Sam never worried.

Before responding, I searched for the MC in question. Were they out of their cuts tonight to meet with their outside source? I scanned the crowd but couldn’t spot any of them near me.

After a beat, I answered, “Yeah, I feel something coming. Reapers showed up at Lotería, asking for someone in charge. I wondered why the fuckers thought they would be welcome since I delivered a clear message they weren’t. Guess it’s because those fuckers are dead.” I trailed off, trying to figure out where all the pieces fit.

Sam’s gaze burned a hole in the side of my face. I turned to meet her hazel eyes.

“Be careful, Ryan. Their backer is big if they decide to take a swing at Los Muertos…no one has the balls to take on the Mexican cartel unless they’re unhinged or well funded. Or both. And all of those options are dangerous,” she warned.

I nodded in agreement before turning back to the crowd, feeling like we were being watched.

Sam slipped from the table, disappearing into the crowd without another word. We couldn’t afford to spend too much time around one another. Not when she traded information with me. So we always met on neutral ground and kept the conversation under five minutes. Then she would slink away.

* * *

A few minutes passed before I left the table to find my way out of the warehouse and back to my comfy bed. Torque’s familiar face was over by the cage, cornering for another member I’d never spoken to. I winked at him from under my hood, and a genuine grin appeared when it dawned on him who I was. Thankfully, the guy hadn’t turned into a douchebag after our fight. Some men couldn’t handle a woman capable of physically taking care of herself.

Goosebumps broke out along my arms as the cool night air hit my face. The alley didn’t smell much better than inside the warehouse, but at least the air out here wasn’t stale. The former fire exit door slammed closed behind me. I’d wanted to avoid the chaos at the main entrance, so I let myself out a side door.

Sounds of grunts and fists hitting flesh caught my attention. They were too loud for it to be fight sounds from inside. My blood ran cold when I saw four men attacking a small figure partially shielded by their bodies. But the hat on the ground told me exactly who they were attacking. My blade was in my hand without a second thought, and I charged at the one closest to me. They were too close together to use my Sig; I wouldn’t risk hitting Sam with a bullet.

Close-quarter knife fight it is.

Sam was attempting to hold her own, but fighting off four grown-ass men was a tall order for one female. Fuck, it would be hard for a man. What kind of assholes jump a woman? Before any of them knew what was happening, my arm wrapped around the chest of the one closest, restraining his back to my chest while I slid the blade across his throat. Hot blood coated my hand, and gurgling sounds were added to the mix.

“Dile hola al Diablo para mí,” I whispered in his ear.

The surprise element allowed that maneuver to work, making it a one-trick pony. The other three turned and witnessed his last breath, and the break in their attention allowed Sam to wiggle free and land a solid hook to one of the attackers, dropping him unconscious.

The odds were even, but who knew how long homeboy would stay out. Watching their buddies drop to the floor snapped the two remaining pendejos out of their stunned states. The one at my left lunged forward. The awkward angle slowed my ability to face him head-on, giving him the upper hand. I spun out of his reach but not before his blade slid across the side of my ribs.

“Fuck,” I cried out, but the sounds of our fight were being drowned out by the crowd’s roar inside the warehouse.

“That’s the plan, bitch. Boss doesn’t care what we do with the whore. Just as long as we silence her.” A cruel grin appeared on the face of the asshole who’d just sliced me. “But now that you’ve gone and stuck your nose where it doesn’t belong, we get two to play with,” he sneered.

I snarled at him. “I’m going to cut out your tongue and shove it down your throat so you choke on it.”

I hated men like this. Men who felt they had the right to treat women as property. Limp-dick men who couldn’t get pussy, so they decided to take it. He’d sealed his fate. I might’ve left him lying here injured. But now—now he’d be taking his last breaths in this alley.

Knowing Sam was fine now that the numbers were even, I focused solely on this asshole. A pathetic battle cry left his lips, and he charged like we were in a football game. Head tucked down, arms pumping at his sides like an idiot. Obviously, he hadn’t been in many fights. Cocky fucker thought he could overpower me since he’d managed to land the lucky slice.