“I don’t believe this.” Maxie throws up her hands. “Have you ever known Smoke not to be intimidating? The man says ‘hello’ on a growl.”
Maxie has a point.
“He never said anything to me about talking with her,” I add.
“Of course not, ‘cause he knows you’d be against it.” Maxie shakes her head. “How can men be so dense?”
“Fuck, he had no right talking to her without telling me.”
“Since you basically lied to him about how you feel, he probably didn’t think it would matter,” Maxie reasons.
She has a point, but still, why the fuck would Smoke interrogate her?
“Calm down.” Blood grips my shoulder. “He probably had a good reason.”
“None that I can see. Now she’s gone who the fuck knows where.”
I storm out of the apartment and down the stairs with Blood calling after me. I ignore him and head for my bike in the lot. I fire it up and wheel out onto the road with one thing on my mind: getting to The Tropics and finding out what the fuck went on between Smoke and Martina.
CHAPTER 19
MARTINA
The adrenaline rush I experience after I storm out of Smoke’s office wanes by the time I hit Calle Coahuila in the Zona Norte. I’d only heard the stories about the famous redlight district of Tijuana, but I can see they weren’t exaggerated. At late afternoon, the streets were already crowded with prostitutes, people hawking sex shows, and some openly selling drugs on the street.
Leave it to my brother to live in one of the worst areas in the city with a prostitute. Typical, but I wasn’t going to let that dissuade me from seeing Eduardo and demanding he give me my passport. I’d even lie and threaten the Bastards’ wrath if I had to, but I’m not leaving without it.
Using the Bastards would be an idle threat, but Eduardo wouldn’t know it or how Diesel dismissed me as just another piece of ass. Or how Smoke warned me off Diesel and basically called me the same thing. From now on, I was depending on one person only—me.
I discreetly search for Eduardo’s building, making sure I don’t make eye contact with anyone for fear they’ll think I’mone of the working girls who lines the street. Thankfully, on the next block I spy a pink building numbered 200. Now, I have to get past the assortment of men and women grouped around the door. My limited Spanish tells me the women, as well as the men, are trying to get the best deal for services rendered. If I ever get out of this country alive, I will sit down and put all this in writing because no one would believe it.
“Hey, sweet thing,” a clearly American voice rings out in the crowd. “How much are you charging?”
I keep walking, my eyes on the door in front of me, until I feel a sweaty palm on my arm. “What’s the matter? Don’t you speak English?”
“I speak perfect English.” I glare at his hand, then up at him. “Let me go.”
“You’re not gonna make any money that way, sweetheart.” He flashes a smile that says he’s had way too much tequila.
“Just remove your hand and let me pass.”
He tightens his grip, yanks me against his beer belly, and I heave out a heavy sigh. “C’mon, baby, I just wanna have a little fun.”
His other hand grabs my ass, so I angle my arm down and then straight up into his nose. His hand flies to his face as blood shoots out in all directions. Maxie would be so proud of my moves.
“Fuckin’ whore!” the jerk yells. “I should have you arrested.”
A crowd forms around the man, and I take the opportunity to move past them and into the building, then to the apartment Eduardo indicated on the first floor in the back.
I knock on the door and pray he answers. I knock three more times before I hear the shuffling of feet and then numerous locks unlatching. Not a surprise in this neighborhood.
The door swings open, and my eyes widen. Of all the thingsI expected, a naked woman standing on the other side of the door wasn’t one of them.
DIESEL
I drop my kickstand and storm through the back door of The Tropics, then down the hall and straight into Smoke’s office. I barge through the door without knocking and look around the empty room.
Shit!
