by Callie Hart
The guard returns less than two minutes later, sporting a split lip, fury in his eyes. He speaks in hushed tones to the other men, stabbing a finger in our direction, and then he spits on the floor at the tall guy’s feet. The tall guy threatens to hit him, but then he turns and faces us instead. “Julio says you’re okay, man, but you gotta sit by the pool and wait for him to finish his business. We’ll shoot your ass if you wander anywhere else in the house.”
“Fine by me. I could use some time to work on my tan.” I grin at the dude, flashing my teeth. Waiting for Julio by the pool is no problem, but I am curious as to what kind of business he’s conducting here at the moment. There are clearly a lot of rich people here judging by the cars. I doubt they’re all here to buy and sell drugs. Drug dealers drive beaten up Fords when they’re carrying. At least the smart ones do. And no way Julio would conduct that kind of business out of his home, either. That shit goes down out in the middle of the desert, at night, when you can see a car coming for fifty miles in any direction.
The gates roll back wide enough for Soph and I to slide on through, and then the tall guy closes them behind us again, as if he’s afraid there are other interlopers loitering on the other side, waiting for their chance to sneak on through.
God knows how many people are here right now, but as we’re walked into the villa and out into the courtyard through the entranceway, a sea of chatter bubbles up around us. At least eight men sit at glass-topped tables dotted around the kidney shaped pool, mostly gathered around the far end, where a small waterfall feature cascades down into the deep end. At first I only see the men, but then something about the way Sophia stiffens next to me has me doing a double take. At the feet of the each of the well-dressed guys, a woman is kneeling or on her hands and knees, mostly naked. Some of them are sitting, heads bowed, eyes on the ground, hands tucked under their asses. Some of them are blowing the guys on the chairs. Some of them are bent over, while one or two of the men slide fingers into their pussies or their asses.
Sophia looks away, turning her back on the scene, her face a little grey. The guard who has escorted us through Julio’s villa smirks, displaying a set of yellowing, rotten teeth. “Bad day to bring a bitch out into the desert, huh, ese?”
I take a step toward him, snarling, but the asshole steps away, laughing a high-pitched hyena laugh. “Better keep an eye on that one, cabron. Julio’s other guests have big appetites. Your whore looks like she might be their type.”
It’s pretty pathetic that I react to him, but my blood is boiling in my veins. I’m ready to uppercut this fucker and toss him head first into the shallow end of the pool, but Sophia places a hand on my shoulder, stopping me.
“Don’t. It’s not worth it,” she whispers. “Let’s just sit down and wait for Julio.”
She’s right—fighting with Julio’s men, low life scum though they may be, really isn’t worth it. It definitely won’t ingratiate us to our host, that’s for sure.
Soph sits with her back to the bizarre scene on the other side of the courtyard, leaving me with a full on view from the other side of our small glass table. There are two small red spots of color staining Sophia’s cheeks, and I immediately know they’re not there from embarrassment. Certainly not from excitement. She’s angry. So angry that her hands are shaking as she stacks them one on top of the other in her lap.
“You don’t seem too shocked by that,” she says.
I clench my jaw, looking down at my hands. “I’m not. I’ve seen a lot worse.”
“Nice. Good to know.” She looks disgusted.
“Not because I wanted to, Sophia. Because Cade and I were looking for his sister. That was the kind of place Laura would have ended up. Those are the kinds of things she would have been forced to do. I don’t take pleasure in fucking unwilling women, sugar. I don’t take pleasure in watching them get fucked, either.”
Sophia hangs her head, biting down on her bottom lip. “I know. I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.”
“From the looks of things, none of those women are unwilling participants, though. They all look like they’re enjoying themselves.”
Sophia blinks up at me like I’m simple. “You can’t be serious?”
I shrug. “Julio’s women are paid here, Soph. Most of them, anyway. He doesn’t keep stolen women here. He’s too smart. If anyone comes through his place that doesn’t want to be here, he’s quick to sell them on right away. He knows the cops would be investigating him in a heartbeat if they suspected he had missing girls here. And he knows I’d be putting a bullet in his head if I suspected it, too.
“But you know he does it.”
I sigh, running the pad of my index finger up and down the handle of the flick knife I’m carrying in my pocket. We didn’t bring guns, thinking Julio’s men would search us. Seems as though they didn’t really care if we were carrying, though. “I can’t prove it. Like I said, he’s smart.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes, the quiet interrupted only by the sound of flesh on flesh and women moaning. Sophia shifts uncomfortably in her chair every time someone gasps or calls out, and I try not to shoot daggers at any of the men who cast their eyes over my fully dressed girlfriend as if they’re trying to imagine what she looks like naked.
Julio finally appears after what feels like forever, waddling toward us, tucking a huge, tent-like short-sleeved linen shirt into his enormous pants. He does not look like a happy man.
“I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon, my friend.” He says my friend like it’s an insult, which it undoubtedly is designed to be. “Something tells me you wouldn’t be here unless you absolutely had to be.” He’s been fixed on me, scowling deeply, but his expression shifts when he sees Sophia. Astonishment flashes across his face, his eyes growing wide. “Well, this is unusual. I thought you’d be dead in a ditch somewhere by now, girl.” He offers Sophia his hand but she looks away, refusing to meet his gaze. Her hands remain stacked in her lap.
“You’ll have to forgive Sophia. I don’t think she approves of your party,” I say.
“Maybe you both ought to join in. I’m sure she’d enjoy it then.”
“I think there’s more chance of your balls miraculously becoming separated from your body to be honest.” I smile, tilting my head back, looking up at him. “I’d hate to invite you to sit down in your own home, Julio, but it’d make this whole thing a little easier if we were all seated around the same table. I imagine standing up for extended periods of time isn’t all that fun for you, anyway.”
Julio mumbles something unintelligible, his jowls swinging from side to side. “You’re a son of a bitch, Rebel. What the fuck you think you’re doing, showing up here like this? You fucking crazy?”
Over his shoulder, a woman throws her leg over a guy’s head, grinding her pussy against his face, which makes it hard to take Julio seriously as his face grows redder and redder.
“I didn’t think calling ahead would be smart,” I answer. “I’d have shown up and no one would have been here.”
“True. I’d have made sure we were all down in Tijuana, drinking cerveza and fucking big-titted Latina beauties.”
I spread my hands in front of me—see what I mean? “We need to talk about Hector Ramirez,” I say.
Julio sits himself down heavily in the last remaining chair at our table; it creaks, groaning under the considerable weight of the man. “I don’t see what we have to talk about, my friend. Hector Ramirez is your problem, not mine.”
“Is that so?”
He shrugs, spreading his hands in front of him. “I ‘m aware that he has been camping out on your front lawn, stinking up the neighborhood, ruining your little slice of Americana. While his gaze is turned toward you, it’s not focused on Mexico or the border. Or the goods that I choose to ship back and forth for that matter. And with Maria Rosa still missing, it’s very convenient for me to have Ramirez playing Cowboys and Indians with you. Mexico is mine for the taking.”
Fuck
. I haven’t even considered what might be happening with Ramirez’s business while he’s stateside, occupied with the Widow Makers. Of course he’s not paying attention to what’s going on back in Juarez. I’m sure he’s left men behind to manage his operation, there’s no doubt about that, but the kind of men you leave behind are the kind of men who are easily bribed. They’re probably pocketing a couple of hundred dollars every time Perez wants to import or export a shipment, and then looking the other way.
I catch a frown on Sophia’s face. She looks like she’s kicking herself for not considering this outcome, too, though I have no idea why. She doesn’t know how the politics of this world works. Not really.
Julio waves over one of his armed guards and tells him to bring him three beers. Once the guard is gone, Julio says, “Tell me what you want to discuss. We’ll see how our conversation proceeds from there. But trust me when I say this, my friend. The return on whatever you want from me had better be fucking impressive.”
“I want Ramirez dead. That’s what I want to discuss with you. And the return on that is obvious. Right now, Mexico isn’t yours for the taking. Mexico is on loan. As soon as Ramirez is done in the states, what do you think’s going to happen? He’s going to head straight back to Juarez and he’s going to butcher the guys who’ve been turning a blind eye to you and yours. He’s going to seek retribution because you encroached on his territory, and he’s going to murder half of your men. I wouldn’t be surprised if he takes control of your California business just to prove a point. And then what? You’ve had your ass spanked and you’re broke. Doesn’t sound too great to me. If you help us get rid of the fucker once and for all, Mexico really will be yours.”
Julio narrows his eyes, staring at me. He laces his fingers together, resting his interlocked hands over the paunch of his belly. “And after, when Ramirez is gone, the Widow Makers will just stand by and allow me to conduct my business freely? Is that so?” He laughs, the sound scathing. “I don’t think so. I know you too well, my friend. You cut the head off a hydra and you expect that to be the end of it. You expect it to die quietly forever, never to be heard from or seen again. That is not what will happen. I am a man who loves money. I love women and drugs and power. I’ll simply take Ramirez’s place, and that won’t sit well with you. You’ll turn your eye to killing me, too.”
“I don’t give a shit what you do after Ramirez is dead, Julio.” It almost kills me to say this, but it’s all I’ve been able to think of. I told Sophia last night that I would have figured out what leverage we could use in return for Julio’s help, and this is it. This is all I could come up with. Allowing Perez to deal his drugs and sell his women goes against everything I stand for. If I’d had to strike a deal with the bastard six months ago, this would never have been on the table, but so much has changed now. Now, there is Sophia. Now, I don’t have a fucking choice.
Julio looks at me for a very long time. Eventually, he says, “Are you a man of your word, Rebel? People say this about you, but I need to look you in the eye and hear you say it.”
“I am.”
“And you know what happens if you go back on your word in our world, no? It doesn’t end well for me or for you.”
“I know what happens.” He’ll come after the club. He won’t have any other option. Even if he knows he’ll lose his life, he’ll have to. His honor won’t allow him to take any other course of action, and if he does come after the Widowers who knows what will happen. We’ll probably slaughter his men if it comes down to a numbers game, but it would be a miracle if we came through the other side unscathed. Loss of life would be a certainty, and I don’t think I could handle knowing it was avoidable somehow.
Julio glances at Sophia out of the corner of his eye. “I would make it a personal point of interest to ensure that some very unpleasant things happened to your friend here if you reneged on any agreement we came to. That is something you should understand, my friend.”
Well, shit. Julio has no idea how close a friend Sophia is. If he did, he sure as hell wouldn’t be tossing around threats like that. He’d be doing his absolute best not to make eye contact with her, or even look in her general direction for that matter. I grind my teeth together, pressing my palms against the tops of my thighs to prevent myself from making fists and knocking the shit out of him. I plan on warning him, giving him advanced notice that he can expect to be digesting food through a stomach tube for the rest of his life if he even thinks dark thoughts about Soph again, but I don’t get a chance.
Soph gets to her feet and takes a step toward Julio, so she’s standing right next to him. She bends down and smiles. “I’m not the same frightened girl you bundled into the back of your car six months ago, Mr. Perez. I’m someone entirely different altogether, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t talk about me as if I wasn’t sat two fucking feet away from you. Otherwise there might be consequences for you.”
Julio blinks up at her in a very owlish manner, confusion written all over him. I have no idea what my girlfriend thinks she’s doing right now, but holy fuck if it isn’t hot. Julio Perez doesn’t let grown ass men with a history of violent murder talk to him this way. The slender brunette with the bad temper seems to have him on the back foot, though. He looks at me, his mouth slightly open, and jerks his head back. My hand is itching, ready to reach for the knife in my pocket—I’ll slit the bastard’s throat if he harms a hair on her head—but Julio’s serious expression melts into one of disbelieving amusement. He laughs, the sound of his mirth echoing around the enclosed courtyard loud enough that one of the women servicing the men on the other side of the pool yelps and falls off her patron’s lap.
“This one…you’d better get rid of this one, Rebel,” Julio says, wiping his eyes. “She’s too much for you to handle. Hell, I think she’d be too much for any of us to handle.”
I avoid looking at Sophia. I don’t want Julio to see it in my eyes—how much this girl means to me. If he suspects for a second that I’m in love with her, it’ll plant a seed. He’ll always know that he can use her against me if he needs to. in hindsight, it’s better I kept quiet and didn’t say anything about his threat just now. “She knows when and when not to open her mouth,” I say.
“Women in my home usually only open their mouths so someone can shove a dick down their throat.”
I don’t smile. “All Widow Makers are equal. We don’t persecute members based on their sex, and we don’t let people threaten them, no matter who they are. You won’t need to harm a single one of us, because we won’t renege on our deal.” I meet Sophia’s eye and silently tell her to sit her ass down. She obliges me, though I can tell she doesn’t really want to spend another moment sitting at a table with this pig. Especially with things ramping up on the other side of the pool now. One of Julio’s wealthy guests is openly fucking a bleached blonde woman with a rose tattoo on her thigh, and the sounds of their skin slapping together is resounding around the courtyard the same way Julio’s sour laughter did a second ago.
“So how do you propose we get rid of Ramirez, then?” Julio takes a sip from the drink in front of him, his eyes never leaving me. “He’s always protected. He goes nowhere alone. We’d need to do something pretty crazy to get to him.”
“We can do crazy. It’s just how far you’re willing to go…”
Julio pouts, shrugging his shoulders. “For the Mexican border, I’d be willing to go very far, my friend.”
“Good. Then call Ramirez and tell him you want to arrange a meeting. Tell him you have a business proposition for him.”
“Pssshhhh. Ramirez knows I would never discuss my business with him. We haven’t spoken in over seven years. He’ll be suspicious.”
“Let him be. Let him think you’re trying to out smart him somehow. If he’s focused on you and your men, wondering what game you’re playing, then he’s going to be temporarily blindsided. He might just forget about the Widow Makers for three seconds. You’ll be at his farmhouse. You’ll propose that yo
u combine forces for one huge run from the south. Make him an offer he can’t refuse. Keep him and his men distracted for as long as possible.”
“And in the meantime, you’ll be moving into position, getting ready to sever the fucker’s head from his body, yes?”
“Exactly.”
“And how do you plan on doing that without getting all of us killed?” Julio asks. He takes another long drink from his beer, his eyes glinting over the glass.
“Don’t you worry about that,” I tell him. “The Widow Makers will have that covered.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CADE
Jamie and Sophia are gone for three days. They return just after dark on the third day, the throbbing engines of their motorcycles making the beer glasses on the shelves of the clubhouse rattle and chime against one another. Shay’s first to the door to see for herself who’s just pulled up at the compound gates, despite the fact that we can all probably identify the individual rumble of not only Rebel’s bike but Sophia’s Ducati now, too.
Shay swears under her breath when she rips the door open. “There’s a car with them. A Humvee, like ours.”
I get up to see for myself. Jamie didn’t say to expect company when he returned from the Californian desert. Seems like he brought some home with him all the same. It’s impossible to tell who jumps out of the Humvee, but from my vantage point out the front of the clubhouse, I can plainly see my best friend climbing off his motorcycle, as well as Sophia, standing next to him, removing her helmet, shaking out her hair.