Page 487 of Devil’s Disciples

I was shocked that he was touching me in front of everyone. It wasn’t where he touched me that seemed strange. It was how he did it.

It was intimate.

“Okay,” I said, looking him in the eyes while trying to hide my excitement. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

In complete contrast to the agreement we’d made, he leaned forward and kissed me. Not a friendly I’m leaving kiss, but a full-on you’re mine, and I don’t want you to forget it kiss.

With my margarita in one hand, I stumbled backward until I slammed against the countertop. Unsure of what to do with my hands, I returned the kiss with a drink dangling from one hand and my other fanning the air like I was guiding an F-16 to land on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier.

The kiss was everything that I imagined a kiss could one day be. Sensual. Powerful, yet kind. Pleasurable.

Oh, so pleasurable.

Our lips parted.

I stared back at him in sheer disbelief. He looked me in the eyes and smirked.

He peered into my eyes and grinned his signature sly grin. “See you in a bit.”

“Okay,” I murmured. “See you in a bit.”

With Pee Bee at his side, he turned toward the garage door. Still in shock, I gulped down half my margarita and looked around the room.

Ally chuckled. “Do you always do that when he kisses you?”

“Do what?”

“Flap your arms like you’re trying to fly?”

“I don’t know,” I said with a laugh. “That’s the first time he kissed me.”

“Oh. Wow. That was quite a kiss.”

Slightly embarrassed, I wiped my lips with the back side of my finger. “It’s not like that. We’re uhhm. We’re just friends.”

She spit out a laugh. “That wasn’t a friendly kiss.”

I had very little experience at kissing, but she was right. It wasn’t friendly. It was as passionate as a kiss could ever be.

The resonance from their motorcycle’s exhaust shook the walls. I gulped what remained of my margarita. I had no idea what was going on in Reno’s mind, but whatever it was, I liked it.

180

Reno

Manos’ insistence that Rex and I attend an unannounced late-night meeting was either a good thing, or a bad thing. I had no experience with drug dealers but had a feeling Alacrán wanted to satisfy himself that we were who we said we were, and that we had the financial resources to follow through with our promise before he committed to ship 15,000,000 dollars’ worth of drugs over the border.

That was my hope, anyway. Knowing Alacrán’s propensity for violence left me feeling uneasy, regardless of what my thoughts—or hopes—were.

With Goose leading us by five minutes, we rolled to a stop at the traffic light a few blocks away from Manos’ home. Wearing the yellow-lensed glasses he typically wore at night, Crip looked at me and shook his head.

“What?”

“I’m not liking this,” he said.

“There’s nothing about it I like,” I admitted. “But shit’s going to do nothing but get worse if we don’t do this.”

“I know.” He checked the traffic light. “You don’t think he’s going to have a problem with us being armed?”