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“You know how he is. He thought I would give up on Lotería and move to Sinaloa with him. So anything new that comes up for me to do, he doesn’t like.” I didn’t mention that his text messages felt weirdly threatening.

It was late. You’re reading into it.

Another mediocre attempt to convince myself the lack of sleep was what was making me suspicious. I looked over when I heard Nikki sigh. The fact that she looked like she’d sucked on a sour lemon was a red flag. I wasn’t going to like what she was about to say.

“Listen, this will be the last thing I say on the subject because we both know I’m just as much of a fuck-up when it comes to feelings and shit.” She flashed me a smile meant to disarm me before she added on. “But it’s easier to comment on other people’s shit than fix our own. Ryan, you are a badass who fucking unalives bitch-ass men. You took a shitty strip club and made it a haven for women who have been abused but feel they have no other line of work they can or want to do. You give girls like me a chance to survive. You stay strong enough for everyone down there on that floor. They get paid good money that you don’t ever take a cut from, and you protect them from ever being abused again—” The way her words dropped off suddenly made my stomach lurch. “But you don’t seem to recognize how you’re trapped too.”

I bristled at her words. Damn, Nikki knew how to go straight for the jugular.

All the things she said hit too close to home, but I was terrified of opening up that proverbial door to analyze if what she said was true. For years I’d been shoving emotions and memories I didn’t want to face into the back closet of my mind. In moments of pure honesty, I could admit I didn’t worry about the damage denial was causing because I thought I wouldn’t be around long enough to see it.

There was a reason there weren’t many women running around with criminal organizations. In fact, Scar was the only other one I knew. And she had her own fucked-up situation she was dealing with over in New York.

The cold indifference I didn’t usually show Nikki slipped into place. I had work to do, and I wasn’t willing to dive into this subject with her—with anyone.

“I’m not trapped, Nikki. My relationship with Mario is complicated. Okay?” The icy tone made it abundantly clear there was no room for discussion.

Nikki could read a room, and people, almost as well as I could. So she switched the subject without skipping a beat. But I didn’t miss the slight widening of her eyes. This was the first time it dawned on her the predator I was.

Movie nights with Chinese food and every version of Bring It On imaginable had a way of hiding my deadlier side from her. But this moment gave her a peek at me without the rose-colored glasses. A prickle of worry she would find me unworthy of affection ran through my body. But her cheery tone helped ease the feeling.

Maybe she’ll stick around a bit longer.

“So, you get to meet a bunch of old bikers. An age gap can be very sexy, you know. Get an older man to take care of all your needs.” Nikki added an exaggerated wink, as if I didn’t already know almost everything she ever said was an innuendo.

“I will not be hooking up with any of the Skeletons of Society MC members, Nikki,” I said dryly, earning me an eye roll. “I’ll be running the deal with them, so I need them to take me seriously.”

A pout appeared on Nikki’s face for a moment before she moved on, pulling out her phone and typing like a madwoman.

“In that case, you’ll need to wear your bad bitch outfit, Chica.” She looked up at me with a smirk, and it suddenly felt like I was the prey and Nikki was the predator.

Gunner

“Damn. This is not what I was expecting to see when Pres told us our meeting was at a Los Muertos strip club. It’s much more…sophisticated than I imagined.” Dex’s tone changed from awe to disappointment. “This doesn’t look like the kind of place I can fulfill my luchador mask fantasy.”

I looked over and raised my eyebrow at the genuine sadness in his voice.

“I worry about you, man.” Shaking my head, I focused back on what I was seeing. My brother wasn’t wrong. In front of us stood a modern Spanish-style building with sleek white plaster walls, a tile roof, and a metal sign with graffiti lettering. The strip club’s name was illuminated in red.

Lotería.

My jaw clenched at the turn of events. “How the fuck did we not know what this looked like? I hate shit intel. Do we know anything going into this?” I paused for a second, trying to rein in my temper. “Let’s go. We have a meeting to get to,” I said tightly, throwing my leg over my bike and storming off toward the club. I was pissed off that we were starting in the dark.

The original deal was that we would be working with Mario. But Pres got a call from Sergio earlier today changing our point of contact. Now, all of a sudden, we were being given the run-around and getting someone we knew nothing about. Plus, the short notice meant I couldn’t get any intel on them before we met.

I called out over my shoulder to Dex. “I bet this Ryan person doesn’t even know how to fucking oversee an arms deal properly. Sergio is playing with us.”

Dex could hear the frustration in my voice and wisely chose not to comment. My eyebrows shot up as we approached the entrance to the club. I hadn’t expected the cartel to own a strip club with a giant archway covered in bougainvillea. The only thing that seemed normal about this place was that the entrance was manned by a hulk of a human.

What the fuck did his parents feed him?

My gaze moved to the line of people curved around the building, and I was shocked to find it wasn’t made up of horned-out men waiting to get in. I didn’t see anyone typically associated with a seedy strip club. What the hell was going on? Dex was thinking along the same lines because he called out to the security.

“Hey, ése, something happening tonight?” he asked in a faux Spanish accent that made him sound like an asshole.

The doorman cocked a brow.

My elbow rammed into Dex’s ribs, causing him to let out a strained grunt. “Really, Dex? Ése? Don’t piss off the giant man who could eat you. And your Spanish is shit,” I hissed.