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“I’ll leave the selection to you. That way when you fuck it up, I can have a good laugh.” He smiled at me. We both knew that, although I tried to emulate El Diablo in mannerisms when necessary, I had horrible taste.
“Ha, ha. Very funny.”
“Not yet.” He grinned. “But I’m sure it will be.”
Once the fitting was over, I hopped on my bike and headed over to the jewelry store El Diablo had suggested. I hadn’t realized how much I needed the break until I was flying down the highway with the wind streaming all around me. I definitely needed Swan behind me on the bike. I had the feeling she’d fall in love the instant we took off.
Getting anyone at the fucking store to wait on me took effort and patience I never knew I had. What they wanted to do was call the fucking cops. To be fair, I was in faded blue jeans, motorcycle boots, and a tight T-shirt. I hadn’t exactly tried to hide my tats either. While the women eyed me with appreciative gazes, the manager -- a man in his late fifties to early sixties -- was afraid I was there to rob them. Guess they didn’t often get bikers as paying customers.
“Look,” I said for the sixth time. “I just want to buy a gift for my girl. Is that so hard to grasp? I even have money.” I waved a wad of bills at them. “If you’re not comfortable with cash, I’ve got plastic and a photo ID.” I raised my hands in a gesture meant to put the man at ease. “Whatever makes you happy, old man.” Probably shouldn’t have tacked on the “old man” bit, but the guy was seriously trying my last nerve.
Finally, the guy’s greed got the better of his delicate sensibilities. “What did you have in mind, Mr…”
“El Segador,” I said. “Everyone calls me El Segador.”
The guy’s eyes widened. “Uh… I see. Uh, Mr.… uh…” He stopped and cleared his throat, tugging at his collar. Yeah, he was nervous. Wouldn’t surprise me if he spoke Spanish. Not unheard of in this area. In fact, it was very much an asset, especially if he had a shop in Miami as well as Palm Springs. “El Segador. Did you have, uh, something specific you were looking for?”
“Just something simple,” I said, ignoring the man’s obvious discomfort. “Tasteful. Something she can wear with anything.”
The man pursed his lips as he thought for a moment. Apparently, the challenge of finding the perfect piece overcame his objections to me. Then his eyes lit up. “I think I know just the piece.”
He motioned me to a table where he instructed me to sit. He left and returned with two boxes. He opened one to show me the contents. “Perhaps these would do?”
I grinned. “Perfect.”
“Would you like this delivered or will you take them yourself?”
“I’ll be taking them,” I said. “Now, which method of payment would you prefer?”
Like I didn’t know. I already had my card and license out. The guy took it eagerly, probably expecting to see my real name. If so, he’d be disappointed. My legal name was El Segador. Giovanni Romano had seen to it. He also provided me with an ID every so often, so it looked current. When the guy glanced back at me after looking at my card, I just grinned. It didn’t take long for him to take my payment and send me on my way.
I tucked the boxes into an inside jacket pocket as I straddled my bike. I looked up at the early noon sun and grinned. A romantic dinner for two. Yeah. I’d suffer through figuring out the right fuckin’ fork to use with what course to give her this.
With a chuckle, I started up my bike and took off. It wouldn’t be long before I needed to get ready. Then I’d see my girl’s face light up. And tonight, I’d make love to her gently. Until I couldn’t. Then I’d take her as far as she was willing to go. Then maybe I’d push her a little further. Whatever happened in the next few weeks, Swan was going to be the happiest woman in the world if I had anything to say about it.
* * *
Swan
The day had been full, probably by design. The girls had taken me shopping and helped me pick out a stylish cocktail dress. After trying on what seemed like a hundred dresses, they finally found “the one.” It had a crossover bust with an off-the-shoulder design. The chest tapered down, emphasizing my narrow waist. The front of the hi-low skirt stopped just above my knees while the back of it hit my calves. It was black satin with a lace overlay covering the top. They’d picked out strappy sandals with just enough of a heel to flex my calves without making it painful to walk.
“I feel like Cinderella getting ready for the ball.” I laughed. “You guys ain’t gonna rip my dress to shreds, are you?”
Lyric hugged me tightly. “Never! And I’ll make sure the guys keep the club girls out of the common room when we bring you down to El Segador.”
“Club girls?” I knew I had a puzzled look on my face.
“Yeah,” Celeste said, rubbing her tummy, which showed her advanced pregnancy. Wrath, the dear man, barely let her out of his reach and only with much fussing over her before he left her. I wanted a man like that. I’d probably never see that dream realized, but if I could, and Reaper lived up to his promise, I was sure he could be like that with me. “Club girls can be a bit territorial when it comes to the unattached men. The club brothers and all of us realize he’s yours and you’re his, but the club girls are slow in accepting the message. They sometimes cause trouble even when they know better.”
Lyric rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I think it’s in their blood or something.”
“Even if they know he’s taken,” Jezebel added. “If you have an argument and they smell blood in the water, they’ll try to take advantage. The guys never go for it, but that’s beside the point.”
“You sound like you speak from experience,” I said, not liking the sound of this.
Jezebel shrugged. “I do. But believe me when I tell you, they all know better now. And Liam knows better than to give them even the slightest opening. He shuts everything down hard before they ever get their greedy hands on him. And if I’m not satisfied with his effort --” she buffed her nails on her top -- “I take matters into my own hands.”
Celeste snorted. “Yeah. I think there’s a club girl still in the hospital. Holly has decided she’s going to be just like Jezebel when she grows up.”
