Chapter Three
Diablo chomped onhis nachos as he watched the race cars zip around the track on the big-screen TV in the main room. He took a long drink of his Corona, then lifted his chin at Muerto and Goldie as they approached.
“Hey, big man, how’re the nachos?” Goldie asked as he looped his foot under a chair and pulled it out.
“Awesome,” he said as he picked up a chip loaded with cheese, beans, and ground beef.
“Heard the fights this past Saturday made a few of the brothers a lot of dough.” Goldie motioned to the prospect to come over.
“Yeah. I was surprised you didn’t go. It seemed like your kind of thing.” He looked at Muerto. “And yours too. Maybe Raven is keeping you home all the time?”
“Bring me a Coors, then go to the kitchen and have Lena make me some nachos,” Goldie said to the prospect before turning to Diablo. “I had two chicks occupying me on Saturday night.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“Raven’s cool with me going out with the brothers, but I wanted to take her for a ride over to Cortez. We had dinner and played some pool.”
“Did she hustle?” Army asked as he joined the group.
“Nah. She told the guys she was fucking good, but you know how it is.” He looked fixedly at Army. “A dude always thinks he can beat a chick. It’s the way we’re wired. Anyway, a few played, lost, and she won a bunch of money. I had to beat the shit outta one of the guys who disrespected her before we rode back to Alina. It was a fuckin’ good time.” Muerto brought his beer bottle to his lips.
“When’s the next fight?” Army asked.
“This Saturday.” Diablo guzzled the rest of his beer.
“I’m in,” Goldie said as he dove into his nachos.
“Count me in too,” Muerto said.
“We should enter the fights. It’d be cool to bust someone’s head open.” Brutus joined the conversation.
“We do that all the time,” Diablo replied, and the brothers laughed in agreement.
“The ring girls are hot pieces of ass. It’s worth it just to see them. A few of them came back to the clubhouse with us and partied.” Brutus looked at the food on the table. “Lena’s making nachos?”
“Yeah. Tell Ruger to get you some.” Goldie picked up a tortilla chip and shoved it in his mouth.
“They wear these bras that make their tits look big and up to their chins, these sexy panties, and lace stockings. They wiggle around between the fights. The ones I’ve been to in Silverado and Durango just had the fighters and that’s it. This is more like a legit show but it isn’t. The promoter does a good job.” Army leaned back.
“Now for sure I’m in for Saturday night,” Goldie said.
“Where do they hold the fights?” Muerto asked.
Diablo pushed his empty plate away from him. “About twenty miles east of Tula. The combats are in a small warehouse. From what I could see, Bloody Knuckles owns the building. I think the ring girls and some of the dudes working for him live there.”
“Bloody Knuckles is his road name? Fuckin’ awesome!” Goldie pounded the table with his fist.
“He’s not a biker. It’s his nickname. You know, something he uses for promotion. The guy’s an asshole, but he pays me well.”
“You’re not making enough money from the club’s businesses?” Brutus said as he picked up a tortilla chip.
“I need more.” Diablo’s jaw tightened.
“That’s the fuckin’ problem with money… you always need more.” Goldie pulled out a bag of weed and a pack of rolling paper. “Who wants a joint?”
“You finished your nachos already? Damn, dude, you must’ve been hungry. I’ll take one for later.” Brutus held out his hand.
While the brothers talked, Diablo’s mind wandered to the honey-eyed woman he’d seen the previous Saturday. She’d been on his mind for the past several days. He looked forward to working the next show mainly for the hope of seeing her again. He’d decided if he did, he’d make it a point to go up to her. He wanted to hear her voice and find out how she fit into the gritty underworld of illegal fighting.
“You tuning us out, Diablo?” Goldie’s voice sliced through his thoughts.
