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I blow out a deep, steadying breath as I keep searching. A thick cloud of smoke hangs low in the air. Every person in this club is smoking some kind of cigar. My eyes roam from table to table, then I see her. Sitting at the back table with three men. My fury ignites. She’s going to fucking get it. I storm straight over to where she is sitting with three middle aged, overweight men, and I stand at the end of the table. She looks up at me from under her hideous blonde wig. “What are you doing here?” she asks flatly.
I glare at her. “I should ask you the same thing.”
She sips her drink sarcastically and it’s all I can do not to rip her by the hair from the table.
She raises her eyebrow. “Meet my friends.” She gestures to the three men she is sitting with. “This is Carlos, Santiago, and Mateo.” They fake smiles and reach up to shake my hand.
“This is my friend.” She pauses and narrows her eyes momentarily as she thinks. “Judas.” A trace of a smirk crosses her face, proud of her sarcasm.
I glare at her and start to feel fury run through my bloodstream. “Birds of a feather.” We glare at each other and I have no idea why she is so pissed at me, but holy fuck she’s about to know how pissed I am at her.
“Won’t you join us?” one of them asks.
“I’m going to the bar first.” I turn and head to the bar and straight to the hot brunette.
“What will it be?” she asks sexily.
I stare at her. Yeah, she’s hot. Smoking actually. I bet she is uncomplicated and normal.
Unlike somebody else I know.
I glance back over to the table and Rosh’s eyes are on me like a hawk. Screw her, she can sweat for a bit. I take a seat at the bar.
The waitress leans her elbows onto the bar and bends down to talk to me. “What’s your name? I haven’t seen you here before?” Her accent is as hot as hell.
I stare at her and without thinking lie. “Andre.”
She smiles sexily. “I’m Camilla.”
I smirk and nod. “How do you do Camilla?”
She smiles broadly and picks up the cloth and starts cleaning the bar. Her breasts are near hanging out of her skimpy top and I watch them bounce as she moves her arm. “What do you want, big boy?” she asks.
My eyes hold hers and I know what I want to say—what the old me would say—and then I am reminded of the infuriating woman sitting at the table with three other men. My eyes flicker to Rosh, and as if she can read my mind, she narrows her eyes and gives me the filthiest look she can muster.
I turn back to the brunette with renewed incentive. “I will have two Tequilas, please.”
“Sure.” She pours my drinks and I down them straight up.
Her eyes drop to my lips as I lick them, and hell it’s so fucking tempting to cleanse the Rosh from my pallet with this hot piece of ass. I blow out a breath and my eyes flicker to her again. She’s laughing with the men now and I feel the hairs on my neck prickle in jealousy.
“Where are you from?” the waitress asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“All over,” I reply, then I think for a moment. Maybe she will know something. “Tell me, if I had some jewellery to sell, where would I sell it?”
“What kind of jewellery?” she asks.
“I have an inheritance to sell. Gold, diamonds, a few rubies and sapphires.”
Her eyes dance with delight. “An inheritance?”
I nod and I know she knows that there is no inheritance.
“Most people sell things to Big Al.”
“Big Al?” I ask. “Where is he?”
“Teusaquillo.”
