Chapter 18
Callie
Poet and Asa hopped up from the table like it was on fire and moved toward the front door after Dragon slammed it shut—both reaching for guns I hadn’t noticed in the waistbands of their jeans. I’m not sure if it was the thought of cowering like I’d done before, or the thought that Asa could be in danger, but when Gram grabbed my arm I shrugged her off and followed them outside.
When I crossed the threshold, I couldn’t see anything at first. Gram’s house stayed shaded inside during the day in an attempt to beat the heat, so walking into the waning sunlight had me raising my hand in front of my face to shield my eyes. When I’d acclimated to the change, my hand dropped limply to my side as I registered what I was seeing.
There were Hispanic guys all over my Gram’s driveway and two silver SUVs with spinning chrome rims blocking our vehicles in. For some reason, I couldn’t look away from the rims of those SUVs. I’d never understood why people chose them for their cars, and the way they kept moving, even though everything else was still, felt like an omen.
“Javier,” Poet rumbled from a few steps ahead of me. “What brings you out for a visit?”
“Eh, you know, just taking a little survey in the neighborhood. It seems your neighbors don’t like having bikers clogging up their parking spaces,” one of the Hispanic men answered, causing my eyes to shift toward the group on the ground.
Our guys were standing in a semi-circle around the front of Gram’s trailer, their bodies tensed and ready, but the Hispanic men weren’t in any sort of formation. They were standing around the driveway, some leaning on the vehicles, looking like they were out for a casual stroll. There were so many of them, though, that their appearance was deceiving. Even if they didn’t look like they were ready for anything, their sheer numbers were enough to cause a tightening in my stomach.
Wait, when had I started to think of those bikers as ‘ours’?
“Well, you took your survey, now it’s time to leave. I’m feeling… mellow, today. And I doubt Rose’d like my boys using up a f*ck-load of water cleaning blood off her driveway,” Poet growled back, making the hair at the base of my neck stand up.
“Your boys killed three of my men. It’s not something that can go unpunished. You know this,” the man answered back almost gently.
Poet scoffed, “Three? I thought it was four? Well, f*ck me. Looks like you left one breathing,” he said, barely turning his head in Grease’s direction.
“Cabrón! I’ll have blood for this. Hand over the girl and we’re even.” The man spit on the ground, and for the first time, looked at me, causing me to sink back.
“Not gonna happen, you little Mexican piece of shit,” Grease growled, stepping sideways so I could no longer see what was happening. “Get the f*ck out of here.”
The man started spouting off in Spanish, and I wished for one minute that I didn’t understand the language of my mother. His words cut off when Gram stepped out from behind me, almost shoving Grease aside as she started using Spanish words of her own. I was so surprised that she was fluent, that it took me a minute to register what she was actually saying. It wasn’t until she started using English that everything became clear… or at least, less confusing.
“I’ve got contacts of my own, you little cocksucker. If my boys were alive, you’d already be dead for what you’ve done to my family,” she hissed, yanking me fully behind her as she raged. “You leave my granddaughter alone or I’ll see you in hell!”
“Rosa,” he looked surprised, but spoke respectfully, “who does she belong to?”
“She belongs to me! That’s all you need to know.”
“Ah, senora, that’s not the way this works. You know this. She belongs to Tommy or Chuck, well, that’s one thing. If she belongs to Daniel, that’s an entirely different matter.”
Watching him over my grandmother’s shoulder hadn’t prepared me for his words, and I gasped as he said my uncles’ names… and then my father’s. His eyes flickered to me for a moment, but were drawn back to Gram as she straightened her slightly curved back, making her almost as tall as I was.
“She belongs to me,” she told him again, slapping her chest in emphasis.
“Well, now, I know that’s not true. Imagine my surprise when I heard that she lived at the address of an old friend. It was jarring, really, to hear that name again.”
He looked as if he was remembering something for a moment, but quickly snapped back to the subject at hand when Gram tried to speak again. He cut her off with a wave of his arm and spoke.
“Due to our history, and my history with your sons, I’ll give you two some time together,” he told her kindly, his voice like that of someone talking to a child. “But she’ll be mine, one way or another.”
He gave a nod to his men and started toward the vehicles when Grease’s incredulous voice boomed out from beside me. “You forgetting something?”
“No, I’m not.” The man shook his head, “I’m not concerned with the Aces. You may be here now, but you won’t be here for long.” He waved his hands dramatically as his face broke out in a smile. “Once you ride back to that rainy hellhole you call home, well, I’ll be here… f*cking your girl, and then killing her.”
Poet grabbed Grease as he lunged, and both of them almost tumbled down the porch stairs as the Hispanic man laughed and closed the SUV’s door.
When the men drove away and all was quiet, my mind was once again reeling with the new information flooding in. What the f*ck had just happened? And more importantly…
How in God’s name did my Gram know those men?