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Apparently, real-life Jax Teller was in a pissy mood. The scowl he was rockin’ probably made grown men shit their pants.
His voice was smooth like well-aged tequila, making my thighs clench. “This is a private meeting. I believe Sergio sent you our order. Why don’t you get that?” He looked away, effectively dismissing me.
I scoffed and looked at Sergio with an ex-fucking-scuse me. Did he just do that? look.
Am I on criminal Punk’d?
Asshole’s eyes swiveled back to me, looking me up and down with a sneer. “Oh and Nikki, knock next time instead of barging in, and bring Ryan whatever he normally drinks. I’m sure you’re well acquainted with his likes.” The last part was said with a little extra venom.
My eyebrows hit my hairline. Apparently, homeboy was pissed Nikki might be well acquainted with Ryan. His irritation brought out a slight New York accent, making him sound even more like a jackass.
Fuck, how can his voice turn me on and piss me off?
Before I could even attempt to respond to the bullshit out of this prick’s mouth, there was a knock at the door.
“Enter.” I stared the lead asshole down while giving the command. I didn’t think I’d ever seen Sergio smile as wide as he did when the real Nikki walked in the door. He was taking great joy in this whole situation.
“Okay, I have everyone’s drink. Sergio, I don’t understand how you can choose a Modelo when we have top-tier tequilas in this place. And Ryan, I assumed you wanted a margarita on the rocks.” Nikki looked up from her tray, utterly unaware of the bomb she just dropped on the boys.
“Thanks, Nikki. You’re so well acquainted with what I like.” I used the same sickly sweet tone she used when verbally chopping off men’s balls.
She wrinkled her nose in confusion but didn’t comment, leaving as soon as the drinks were on the desk. Sergio burst out in laughter the moment the door shut. I swore tears were forming at the corners of his eyes. Meanwhile, I could feel the death glare I was receiving.
We were off to a great start to this partnership.
“Oh shit.” A whisper yell left the lips of the large man with lead asshole. He looked like he was watching a telenovela. His eyes were as big as saucers while taking a giant swig of his drink, and he snuck glances over at his club brother. I had a feeling alcohol was going to be needed for this meeting.
Finally settling down, Sergio decided it might be a good idea not to be a dick and sort out the shit storm he’d created. My fingers pinched the bridge of my nose. It would have been nice if he’d bothered to clear up the confusion before I showed up. Curse my mother for wanting to be trendy and “more American” by giving me a white man’s name.
Dios mío.
“Gentlemen, this is Ryan. She’s my lead man for this arms deal partnership.” Sergio looked up to where I was standing at his side, his hand gesturing to homeboy with the man bun. “Ryan, this is Dex. The Skeletons’ enforcer. Y este cabrón is who you will be working the closest with. Their sergeant at arms, Gunner.”
I didn’t know if I wanted to ride his face or punch it. Maybe I would just suffocate him with my pussy.
Psh, he would be lucky to die between my thighs.
I chuckled at my inner ramblings, causing Gunner to cut me a glare and then leaned forward to rest his forearms on the desk.
“We didn’t come here to be fucked around with Sergio,” he sneered. “If you don’t want to take this partnership seriously, we’ll leave the Reapers MC to be your fucking problem.”
I shot him a dirty look.
Nope. He doesn’t get to die happy between my thighs.
Dex’s face turned serious, reaffirming what his brother was saying. Both men glanced my way. I was sure it was to see me react to their insult. All they got was a cocked eyebrow.
Years ago, I would have shown how pissed I was at Gunner’s words. Probably by stabbing him in the thigh. But being a woman in the cartel was a bitch, so I’d grown a thick skin. Their words didn’t affect me.
However, these two dumbasses hadn’t considered Sergio might not take their insult well. He didn’t become the kingpin because he said please and thank you. And he definitely didn’t accept someone insulting him and his ability to run his operation. I took many men’s fingers as payment for their disrespect to Sergio.
Sergio leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on the desk. When he responded, his tone was so icy it felt like the temperature in the room dropped five degrees.
“I will let your comment slide, Gunner, out of respect for your president and the fact that you don’t know Los Muertos or me well. But this will be the only time I grant you that blessing. Be sure to never question my word again.” Sergio paused for Gunner’s reaction and only continued speaking when the sergeant at arms gave a cut nod. “I agreed to this partnership with your club, so don’t insult me by assuming I would have you working with anyone other than the best person for the job. Her not having a dick doesn’t make her less capable. Ryan’s been running our gun smuggling operation for the last three years out of Lotería.”
Gunner’s eyebrows pinched in confusion, which didn’t surprise me. Mario was the name attached to Los Muertos’s arms dealing—even if he wasn’t the one doing any of the work. At least not here in Tucson. That was all me. I got to sort through all the shit, and Mario got to claim the credit. But I didn’t care. This moment alone was worth the secret.
“Understood. In that case, let’s move forward with this meeting.” Gunner sat back in his seat and draped an arm over the back of the chair in an attempt to look relaxed. But I could see the tension in his muscular back and the popping of his jaw. The man was pissed to be working with me. Too bad for him—I didn’t give a fuck.