Page 11 of Nicoletta
“Kinda, yeah.” I inch forward on the wooden chair in Maxie’s office.
Martina pipes up, “Marisol is our token rich girl.”
“Yup.” Maxie spreads her arms wide. “She’s the one who brings class to this dump.” Then she looks at Martina. “I’ll never forget when you showed up here on the run from thecartel with only the clothes on your back, and Marisol insisted you wear one of her designer dresses to the Friday night party.”
“You guys were the best.” Martina’s face sobers. “You took me in with no questions asked.”
Silence fills the room, and I’m thinking every one of these women has her own story.
Marisol breaks the silence. “Has Bolt told you anything about us?”
“Just that you’re part of the Royal Harlots and that you are involved in a women’s fight club.”
“That’s the basics,” Marisol continues, then motions to the other women. “So far, there’s six of us in the Harlots, and part of the money we make fighting, we pool, and each month we give a portion of it to a family or families in need.”
“That’s amazing.” These women just keep surprising me.
“There’s a lot of poverty in and around Tijuana.” Maxie sighs. “Much worse than any poverty you’ve ever seen in the States.”
“I saw firsthand how the cartel pressures poor families into selling their children to them as couriers,” Maxie adds. “They support the family, and the child works for them for free. Slave labor with a twist.”
I draw in a breath. “Is that what happened to you?”
“No, I was drugged and abducted from a club in L.A., then sold to the cartel. It took me almost a year to get away from them, but Blood made sure none of them will ever bother me again.”
Maxie’s words are hard and definite, and her underlying meaning isn’t lost on me.
“I lived a normal life in Oceanside,” Martina begins. “Before my brother thought it was a good idea to use me as leverage to pay off his drug debts.”
“What?” I whisper, then remember my father wanted to hold me captive in my own home and sent gunmen to scare me.
Marisol takes a long pull of water. “I’m the daughter of a now-dead cartel kingpin. My father sent me to The Tropics when Smoke and Blood first opened it up to spy on them. Bottom line, I fell hard for Smoke. My father used me as a bargaining chip, and my brother Manny, who’s the secretary for the Bastards, made sure he never did that again.”
“This is why we do what we can to help local women,” Martina says.
I let their stories sink in. “You’re not going to believe this, but back in Los Angeles, I worked at a women’s shelter downtown.”
“You did?” Maxie asks, and the other two women shoot her a look.
“In case you haven’t realized it,” Marisol says, “Maxie is the outspoken one of the group.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Maxie defends. “Diesel told me you came from a real rich family in Beverly Hills, so I figured . . .”
“Yes, and they abhor the fact that I’m using my degree from Stanford to basically work for free.”
“I think that’s amazing.”
“What’s amazing?” Bolt’s gruff voice fills the small room.
Maxie waves her hand at him. “Who invited you? This is women only.”
Bolt twists his lips. “How the fuck does Blood live with your wise ass?”
The women laugh, and Maxie grins. “‘Cause I know all his secrets, both in and out of bed.”
“Geez, fuck, that’s it.” Bolt shoots Maxie a death glare, which has no effect, then looks at me. “Let’s get out of here before they start saying shit I really don’t wanna hear.”
I push out of the chair, and the other women are still laughing. “Stick around, Bolt,” Maxie teases, “and I’ll tell you how good your VP is in bed.”
