Page 34 of Nicoletta
“More powerful than the Bastards?” Blood challenges.
“Different. Like they’ve got the top cops and politicians in their pockets. Word is, they even iced one of their own when he got out of line.”
Smoke and I exchange a look but stay silent.
“They threatened me and said if I didn’t go along, they’d make it look like I was doin’ the trafficking. Shit, that’s a federal offense. If I get tagged with that, I’ll go away for a long-ass time.”
“Nobody’s goin’ anywhere,” Smoke assures Paulie.
“You do this for me, and I’ll owe you big.”
Smoke nods, and I know he’s already calculating exactly what Paulie will owe the Bastards.
“I guarantee, after this weekend, you’ll never see these guys again.”Smoke swipes at his phone, then puts it to his ear. “I want you to get one of the prospects up to the Surf Club with the van. Now.”
He swipes away the call, then looks at Blood. “When the van gets here, make sure they get on it. For now, let’s get them outta this room. It smells like shit.”
“Do they understand English?” Blood asks Paulie.
“I don’t think so.”
Smoke uses a few simple phrases he’s learned from Marisol, and the girls warily stand and move out of the room. Who the fuck knows how long they’ve been missing?
We herd them into Paulie’s office and give them water. They huddle together, whispering in Spanish while giving us quick glances.
“When the prospect gets here with the van,” Smoke says toBlood, “get them to a women’s shelter. Just drop them off; don’t go in. We sure don’t need this brand of trouble.”
Blood nods, his eyes, like all of ours, fixed on these innocent victims. It’s one thing to take down an enemy, someone equal in strength, but this is just fucked up.
After Paulie downloads all the video footage, Smoke, Diesel and I silently head out to our bikes.
We mount up, and Smoke says, “Taking down these guys just got a whole lot sweeter.”
“Fuck yeah,” Diesel and I mumble.
NICOLETTA
When I wake up, it takes me a minute to orientate myself. My sleep was plagued with gruesome dreams, including Bolt, my father, and Brad. They were disjointed and unnerving with a common theme. They all ended with a dead man lying at my feet.
I pull myself together, telling myself dreams aren’t real, but the shooting I witnessed was way too real, and it will be a long time before that memory fades—if at all.
The silence of the apartment tells me I’m alone, and when I make my way into the kitchen, there’s a bag from the same café, along with a one word scrawled on the front:Breakfast.
I take out a pastry with a sugar shell on top. I believe they’re called conchas. They look delicious, and I wonder if this is some kind of peace offering, or if they’re just whatever was left over from his order.
Since Bolt found the knife, everything has moved at such a fast pace, I can’t keep up. Bolt isn’t a man who forgives easily, and knowing his track record with women, I doubt he’ll forgive me.
My main objective must be the plan to take down my father and his accomplices. Put one foot in front of the other and move forward. If it all goes down as planned, and my father isarrested, I’ll have enough to deal with in Los Angeles without worrying about Bolt in Tijuana.
Although, I have a feeling, no matter where I am, I’ll always think and worry about Bolt. He’s touched me in a way I didn’t expect. A way no other man has, both in and out of bed. He has a realism and a no-nonsense attitude I find refreshing after coming from a world where everything is fake and fabricated—including the people.
CHAPTER 13
NICOLETTA
I’m alone for the rest of the day except for a visit from Marisol loaded down with a garment bag filled with designer dresses from some of my favorites. We pick through them until we both agree on the best choice for the country club dinner.
She stays, and when Bolt isn’t back by dinner, she takes me down to the club’s kitchen and whips up more of those amazing fish tacos. The Tropics is officially open but still quiet at six o’clock, so we’re able to eat uninterrupted at one of the tables in the back of the club.
