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“Who is Birmingham?” he lies.
Stile’s eyes glare at Rojas as she produces a pair of shiny silver handcuffs.
“Oh, let’s not play that stupid game, Mr. Rojas. Birmingham has been in FBI custody for two days now, and he’s singing like a canary.” She bends down, hooking an arm around Arturo to help him to his feet, but of course, he fights against her, struggling as if he can avoid his fate.
“You can’t do this,” he shouts, yanking his arm to make it difficult for her to cuff him. “My son!”
Stiles grits her teeth and says, “You can do this the easy way, Rojas, or I can shoot you where you stand. Your choice.”
Arturo settles down at her threat and complies.
A huge smile crosses my face as Stiles slaps handcuffs on the old man.
Arturo Rojas stole the lives of Devon and Jordi. He took them away solely because he could, and he’s lucky the lady fed showed up when she did because I’m itching to put a bullet between his eyes.
“Arturo Rojas, you are under arrest.” Stiles looks kind of pretty—badass, even—as she reads Rojas his rights, tightening the cuffs on his wrists and leading him to the door.
“This isn’t over, Ace. I will exact my revenge; you can count on that!”
He sounds like a crazy fucker as Stiles leads him out of the clubhouse. Arturo stops, and his gaze meets Valentina.
“You will regret this,” he promises ominously.
“Let’s go, Rojas.” Stiles yanks his arm and turns at the door, looking first at Ace and then the rest of us with a satisfied smile on her face. “Don’t make me come back here,” she says coldly. And before disappearing into the southern California sunshine, adds “And by the way, clean up this mess.”
As soon as Stiles is gone, Ace turns to us. “Dix, get Valentina out of here. Nova, fix up his shoulder. Stone, Diesel, get the prospects in here and get this place cleaned up,” he growls, kicking Bene’s leg in disgust. “I want this place picture perfect when the ladies get back in here. Lucky, we need to talk.”
“Right behind you, man.”
We step into Ace’s office at the shop, and I lean against the wall. “What’s up, man?”
“Talk to your girl. See where her head is at.” Ace’s gaze studies me carefully. “Is she gonna be sticking around?”
I sure as fuck hope so. “That’s a conversation we need to have.”
Ace nods. “Have it soon.”
“Will do. Anything else?”
“Nope. I’m gonna go find Kenna. I’m so glad she got the girls out before the shit show.”
“Yeah, I’m glad they didn’t have to see any of that. I’ll walk over with ya.”
We navigate toward the back of the clubhouse, where the ladies are still outside, a tableau of anxious faces. Aria is there, talking with Letty. I weave through the crowd to her, my arm instinctively circling her waist.
“It’s later,” I whisper. But she breaks away from my hold, turning to me with eyes burning with unasked questions.
“Lucky. What the hell happened in there? ”
“Club business. Let’s go.”
Her eyes narrow, a spark of defiance. “I want to know, Lucky. I deserve to know.”
I scowl, the truth a bitter pill neither of us wants to swallow. “There are some things I can’t tell you, Aria. Club rules.”
As we move away from the crowd and back to our room, my pulse thunders in my chest. More so than when I faced down Santiago.
Confronting an enemy with lead and fists is one thing, but confronting a woman with the truth of my feelings? That’s another beast altogether. But it’s time for the reckoning. I close the door behind us, taking a deep breath to calm the storm.
