Ardan quirked a smile toward him. “You have no faith in me. Don’t you remember the old times? I could talk my way out of all kinds of trouble.”
Santiago shoved himself off the wall and dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he shifted closer. His muscles tightened with his movements and Ardan couldn’t help but follow the hard lines of his arms with interest. As attractive as his friend was, though, Ardan wouldn’t revisit that part of his history.
“You’ve met Odin, he’s not easily charmed,” he said. “What’s Mancini done to you now that you’re suddenly chasing him?”
“That’s none of the Lords’ business.” Ardan zipped up his duffel and heaved it over his shoulder.
“Is itmybusiness?”
Ardan tapped him on the cheek on the way past. “Not anymore. Take me to your leader, little ant.”
Santiago snorted and smacked Ardan on the ass, hard enough that it stung. “Baby boy, I’m not the ant, I’m the fucking wolf.”
Ardan grinned, glad Santiago couldn’t see it. They worked their way down the stairs and Ardan passed the attorney who he’d charmed into a stuttering mess. The lawyer frowned at Ardan, who merely shook his head, strode past the bumbling man and out through the front.
Ardan paused outside the glass doors, staring at the black, sleek Harley sitting in one of the parking spots, and made a noise of appreciation.
“New bike?” He threw Santiago a smirk.
“Want a ride?” Santiago slid out a pair of Ray-Bans from the pocket of his cut and slipped them on his nose before striding past Ardan to the Harley. He threw his leg over the seat and sat down, hitting the ignition to make the bike rumble to life.
Ardan had never been a huge fan of motorcycles, mostly because they were death traps, but he could admit when something was stunning, and seeing his friend on the black machine was a thing of beauty.
He glanced at his boring white Kia rental car, one of the few the dealership had available. “Yeah, give me a sec.” He strode over to the Kia and popped the trunk, throwing his rifle into the back. Checking to see if he still had his Glock stuffed in the holster against his ribs, he stalked to the bike and slid on behind Santiago. Ardan took the helmet he offered and jammed it onto his head before his friend reversed and took off.
Santiago maneuvered the beast like he’d learned how to ride before walking. It was easy to see he knew the Harley’s limitations and he pushed it when he could. Ardan leaned with Santi, moving with him so as not to topple them when they took sharp corners, or overtook a slow moving car.
The Lords’ clubhouse was right near the beach, a beautiful mansion. Two stories high and made of white stone, it was anyone’s dream come true, certainly not what someone would expect from an illegal motorcycle club. Ardan had only been there once before, and Santiago had explained that Odin, the club’s president, inherited his business mogul uncle’s fortune after he died. Ardan had wondered why someone who’d inherited that much money would turn to the life of crime, but it wasn’t any of his business.
Santiago pulled his bike into the driveway and took the winding concrete path until they came to the house, which already had a line of bikes parked in front of it. Once he reversed his own Harley in, Santiago patted Ardan’s thigh.
“Welcome back to the clubhouse,” Santi said over his shoulder with a grin.
Ardan slid off the bike and stretched out the kinks in his back from leaning over, before he took off the helmet and rested it on the leather sat. He peered around at the towering mansion with its multiple balconies, flourishing gardens, and stone water fountains. Everything about it shouted luxury.
The large double doors opened and an African American man, with a bushy beard and dressed all in leather, stepped out with his thick arms crossed over his chest. His mouth twisted in irritation the moment his eyes met Ardan.
Santiago sighed. “I’m sure you remember Bor.”
“How could I forget him?” Ardan plastered on the sweetest smile he had and straightened his suit jacket before he walked up the three stairs to reach Bor. He held out his hand, and Bor stared at it for a moment with a lengthy, assessing look before he slid his own into Ardan’s. “Long time.”
“Not long enough.” He tightened his grip on Ardan’s hand until both Ardan’s knuckles turned white and it hurt, but he kept his cool. Another lesson he’d learned from George, never show pain.
“That’s harsh,” Ardan teased.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have fucked me and then killed my brother.”
Ardan shrugged. “Sorry, it was business. You understand.”
Santiago grunted behind Ardan’s back and pointed at Bor. “Odin said you can’t touch him.”
“I know.” Bor’s mouth curled in disgust and he finally released Ardan’s hand. “Doesn’t mean I can’t imagine cutting out those pretty eyes of his.”
“They’d be great trophies, wouldn’t they?” Ardan shook his head. “You’d have to stand in line, though. You’re not the first one who’s wanted my eyes in their display cabinet.”
Bor made a hissing sound of displeasure before inclining his head forward. “You know the rules.”
Ardan sighed and spread his arms, letting Bor pat him down until he found the Glock. He didn’t miss the way Bor’s hands got an extra squeeze in when he got to Ardan’s ass, or how he pinched at Ardan’s thigh in a way that hurt. He was trying to psych Ardan out, but it wasn’t going to work.
