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Amara finishes taking a bite and looks at Razor, “Did you say Python was texting you earlier?”
I focus on the conversation at hand, eating my food quietly.
Razor finishes his bite and nods, clearing his throat. “Yeah, he’ll be here in about a month. There are some loose ends he needs to tie up before he leaves the States.”
Dante sips on a glass of tequila, “Good for him. Best to get all that shit sorted out before he arrives.”
Amara nods, agreeing with her husband. “Yeah, I need his focus on the club once he gets here.”
Razor takes another bite and adds, “When he gets here, it will be. He’s not the kind of person who gets distracted easily.”
It’s going to be great having an enforcer for the club.
Amara and Razor have eagerly been awaiting news on when he was going to be here.
Hell, with all these prospects, they’re going to need the extra hands on deck.
The sounds of engines overshadow our conversation and Amara smiles. “I’ll bet we know who that is.”
“The infamous prospects,” I add.
She nods and looks at her husband, “Babe, can you let them in?”
Dante places his plate on the island and nods, kissing his wife on the cheek, “Sure thing,” he leaves the kitchen.
The three of us put our plates near his and head out into the main area.
They’ve been anxiously awaiting the prospects arrival, so I’m sure they’re elated to have them here.
The engines get closer and soon enough, they’re to our right, meaning they’re all pulling into the garage that’s attached to the clubhouse.
I lick my lips in anticipation and pay close attention to Razor.
His eyes are glued to the door leading into the garage.
I take a deep breath, readying myself for seeing the group of them, and meeting this new prospect, Lashes.
The heavy door comes open and walking in first is Dante.
Slowly, the prospects begin pouring in, all looking worse for wear.
The trip must have sucked the life out of them.
Amara looks among the group, “Welcome to Mexico,”
Doom’s the first to greet me. “Oak, I sure as fuck didn’t expect to see you here. Long time no see. How are you doing?”
A natural smile tugs at my lips, “Yeah, well, life is full of surprises. I’m good. How are?—”
I’m not able to finish my question because I notice someone walking in who shouldn’t be here.
His nostrils are flaring as his eyes meet mine. “Why the fuck are you in Mexico?!”
My father.
My breath catches in my throat, and my pulse races.
His expression is a mixture of anger and disbelief.
