She smiles at me as I take a drink and settle back into the sofa. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I’m in love. I think we’ve got a long way to go before we get to that point. But I definitely feel something for Blake and that something is really strong. I can honestly say I’ve never felt like this about anybody before, and it’s kind of freaking me out. But she’s right in that I have been walking around with my head in the clouds. I don’t know when the last time I felt this good was. Maybe never. I can’t say.
But that’s not to say that everything is sunshine and roses. There’s still everything going on with his club and the cartel that’s weighing on my mind. I’ve been wanting to talk to Bree about it, but this is the first chance I’ve had. So, I clear my throat and take a long swallow of my cider then launch into my story. She listens to me and though she looks aghast, she doesn’t say anything. She simply drinks as I speak but I can see the worry on her face growing with every syllable I utter. And when I’m done, our bottles are empty, and she’s white as a sheet, which does nothing to make me feel better about my situation.
“That’s... a lot,” she says. “I mean, that’s really a lot.”
“You don’t have to tell me that,” I say, a rueful smile on my face.
“So, what are you going to do?”
I shake my head. “What can I do?”
“I don’t know, maybe rethink your decision to get involved with a guy whose club is mixed up in a war with a drug cartel?” she asks. “I mean, the shit they can rain down on you is incalculable. I’m terrified that something bad is going to happen to you.”
“I don’t think I have anything to worry about in that regard,” I tell her. “I’m more worried about him.”
“You should be worried about you. That kind of shit has a wide radius,” she says. “Not only that, but it can stick to you. And when it does, it doesn’t always come off.”
I look at her curiously. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
She shrugs. “I haven’t always been the paragon of virtue you see before you right now,” she tells me. “I’ve seen some things in my day. And let me tell you one thing, when you start getting mixed up with cartels, no matter how tangentially it might be, it rarely ends well. For anybody.”
I gnaw on my bottom lip, letting her words sink in. Intellectually, I know what she’s saying. I get it. And normally, I would steer as clear as possible from somebody mixed up in the kinds of things Blake is. But typically, the guys I’ve known who’ve lived that kind of a lifestyle are different. They’re rough. They’re not very nice and tend to treat people badly.
Blake isn’t any of those things though. He’s kind and has a gentle way about him. He’s sweet and generous. Blake is thoughtful and kind. Yeah, he’s a biker and is a bit rough around the edges but he’s a good man with a good heart, and I can tell he genuinely cares about me. He’s respectful. He has qualities you don’t often find in people, least of all the rough-and-tumble biker crowd. And that’s why I’m having such a hard time writing him off as just another bad guy—because he’s not.
Bree frowns. “I just want you to be careful, babe. Blake may be a good guy—a great guy. He might be the best guy in the world,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean the guys he associates with are. That doesn’t mean they’re not into some shady, maybe even dangerous stuff. And from what you’ve told me tonight, it sounds like they are.”
I finish off the last of my bottle and look down at it. I’ve been through three of these already, and I’m still sober as a judge. Nothing like a serious conversation to kill a buzz. She’s not wrong. I know this. My brain is in total agreement with her. But it’s my heart that’s not listening. It’s my heart that’s rejecting everything she’s saying.
And I don’t know how to reconcile the two.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Volt
I flip a couple of switches and look down at the display on my handheld. This little gadget is my own creation and comes in handy from time to time. Like now. It’s designed to pick up the frequencies—or freeks—of a building’s alarm system. Once it’s detected, this little gizmo then jams them, rendering them inoperable. The red light flashes for a moment and then it emits a soft beep and the screen turns green.
“All right, we own the place,” I say and turn to Adam, giving him a nod. “Do it.”
Adam sets to work with his picks and twenty seconds later, I hear the lock in the door disengage with a soft “snick”. He pulls the door open and flashes me a grin.
“Now, we own the place,” he says.
“Twenty seconds? You said you could have it open in fifteen,” I quip.
Adam rolls his eyes. “It’s been a while, all right?”
“One day, you’re going to have to tell me how a good altar boy like you learned how to pick a lock so efficiently.”
He chuckles. “Don’t let the rosary and crucifix fool you. I’ve got a past.”
“Judging by how quick you got that door open, I wouldn’t say it’s that far in the past,” I reply then key my comm. “Overwatch, how’s it looking?”
Domino’s voice comes back through my earpiece. “All clear. You’re good to go.”
“Copy that.”
Blake and I head into the small brick office building purporting to be a kitchen and bathroom design studio. It’s set on a street filled with small businesses and from the outside, it looks like any of the others. But this is Zavala’s office, meaning it’s a front for what really happens inside. This is where he conducts his actual business. This is where his dirty deeds get done.
