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I hated the Rojas compound.
Why would they build out a bunch of concrete in the middle of the dry ass desert, like it wasn’t hot enough out here? But it wasn’t really my business—if they liked it, I loved it. The money they’d started getting after the Santiago cartel went down had done them well, and they’d spared no expense to be gaudy.
Honestly, it was the kind of money thePredatorscould be bringing in if we wanted to sell coke, run pills and all of that too. Butthatgame hadn’t been kind to us. It was a wonder our fathers hadn’t died in prison, on charges from that shit. Daniel Whitfield and his lawyers had made the shit go away, with the understanding thatPredatorswere off that. It was profitable, but too fucking dicey.
We couldn’t risk it.
If nothing else, our divestment from those “industries” made it easier to be at peace with groups that could easily be our rivals instead, like theRenegados. Our relationship with them today was a continuation of bonds built by our fathers.
With the threat of an attack always looming, we couldn’t afford to let them wither.
It was why I was here, looking ready for anything except business as we pulled up to the grand, stucco-covered front entrance to the main house. The large double doors opened and their leader, Manuel Rojas, came swaggering down the stairs.
He was younger than our fathers, but older than us, hitting a mark somewhere right between old enough to feel like he was wiser than we were, but too young for us to take his “wisdom” too seriously.
Not that we thought he was a joke.
That would be a silly, dangerous thing to believe; behind the handsome, overgrown playboy demeanor was a shrewd leader. Five years ago, theRenegadosweren’t even a blip on the map.
Now?
They rivaled thePredatorsin membership and dwarfed us in income.
It was important that we never gave him the impression he was our superior, but equally vital to never forget he was capable of becoming our worst adversary.
The necessary balance here was… delicate.
“Tatiana,” Manuel called out, as soon as one of his men had opened the car door to help me out. “Mi seductora de chocolate, how are you?” he greeted, making me blush as he pressed a quick kiss to each of my cheeks.
I wasn’t kidding.
Manuel was charming and fine and he sounded good as hell saying that corny shit to me.
Ilovedit.
“And who isthislovely being?” Manuel asked, eyeing Maite as one of his people helped her out from the car too.
“This is Maite—she is the artist who does all thePredatorink for us, and also a good friend of mine,” I told him, laughing as she made a big show of letting him kiss her hand.
“Suchexquisitewomen, getting into such bloody business,” he said, looking between us and shaking his head, as if it were a pity.
Because to him, it was.
He’d never been shy about letting us know he thought it was improper for women to be so involved in club business beyond looking good on a bike. And I’d never been shy about making sure he understood that I didn’t give a fuck what he thought.
Today was a bit sensitive though, so I pressed my lips together, opting to simply let it go. There was already a chance this meeting would end on an awkward note.
I just nodded, motioning for Maite to come along as they took us into the house, leading us to Manuel’s office. Before I could say anything at all actually, he spoke up again, to offer more fuel to that statement.
“This is all ugly stuff, mi amor,” he said, shaking his head as he opened the office doors to welcome us inside. “This no place for women like you.”
I turned in the doorway, hanging a little too close to him as I smiled. “Now what would Trinidad think about you calling me that?” I asked, flirting, but reminding him I knew exactly what this was.
And what itwasn’tgoing to be.
Manuel smirked, unperturbed by my aggression when he took a step closer, his eyes lingering on my breasts before he said, “Maybe we should call her in, to make a point. She needs to see that she is not the only beautiful woman who has my attention.”
My mouth dropped open, faking shock. “See that’s how bitches wind up getting killed. It’s me,I’mbitches,” I warned him, shaking my head. “Don’t you tell that woman that, I don’t need her out for my head,” I told him, leaning fully into it even while knowing Trinidad didn’t give a shit.
