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Chapter Twelve
Joaquin
“Are we gonna let him go?” I look to Ace for answers about the asshole still sitting inside The Chamber. The guy has given us some intel, very little we didn’t already know about Nogales and his plans but enough. “He’s outlived his usefulness.”
Shades takes a step back and shoots me a wide smile. “Aw, guys, our little baby bird is all grown up,” he jokes.
“And he’s got a ruthless streak,” Coop adds with a grin of his own.
“Not ruthless, but if we don’t kill him now, then we’ll just have to do it later to make sure he doesn’t warn Nogales or worse, the law.”
I point to the guy to bring home my point. “I don’t plan on going back to prison ever again,” I say, “and letting this guy live is a good way to make sure we all end up behind bars.”
“Joaquin has a point,” Preacher agrees. “As much as it pains me to say so.”
Ace nods. “I’ll think on it,” he answers firmly and looks off into the distance. “For now, let’s just fucking relax.” His shoulders fall in what looks like exhaustion, and then he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“If burning Nogales’s shit down won’t get him to show his face, maybe holding on to this guy will draw him out.”
Dix backs up Ace. “I’m not a man to turn down a good time. If our Prez says eat, drink, and be merry, then that’s what the fuck we’re going to do. Nogales will still be a pain in our ass tomorrow.” He turns to me. “And you can still kill that asshole tomorrow. Maybe.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’twantto kill him, but I don’t want any loose Iron Kings ends. It’s a matter of need, asshole.”
They all laugh, and Coop claps me on the back. “Sounding like a real serial killer, brother. I don’t want to. Ineedto,” he says in a mocking tone. “Classic.”
I roll my eyes and enjoy the shit my brothers are giving me as we head across the parking lot back to the bar. “What the fuck is going on,” I ask as we step inside to find the music blasting, girls dancing together in the middle of the floor, and Willow sitting too fucking close to Tank. “Willow?”
She grins and waves.
“Uh-oh,” Shades mumbles loud enough for me to hear over the music. “Somebody’s jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” I growl and march over to the lovebirds. “What the fuck’s going on?”
“Tank is inking me,” Willow says easily. “It’s the start of a sleeve, I think. If my arm ever stops hurting.”
A tattoo. She’s getting a fucking tattoo, and Shades is right. I’m fucking jealous. “Dammit,” I growl and turn away, making a beeline for the bar. “Whiskey and beer, please.”
“Somethin’ wrong, sugar?” Stella says.
“Nope,” I growl and knock back the shot, tapping the bar to signal for another.
“Hey, what the hell was that?” Willow shoves my back, and I nearly spill my drink.
I turn with a blank expression on my face. “What the hell waswhat?”
She gets in my face and examines it closely as if she can see all my secrets, which I know she can’t.
“Oh. My. God.” She shakes her head with a laugh. “You’re jealous. You walked away because you’re pissed.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.
She shrugs. “Okay, fine. Then I won’t let you see my brand-new tattoo. Have a good night, Joaquin.” She saunters off, hips swaying seductively, enticing me to follow her.
And I do because, apparently, I am a glutton for fucking punishment.
“Willow,” I call just before she pushes open the door that leads to the back patio area. “Hey, wait up.”
She turns with a sassy expression on her face. “For what?”
