I don’t smile. “All Widow Makers are equal. We don’t persecute members based on their sex, and we don’t let people threaten them, no matter who they are. You won’t need to harm a single one of us, because we won’t renege on our deal.” I meet Sophia’s eye and silently tell her to sit her ass down. She obliges me, though I can tell she doesn’t really want to spend another moment sitting at a table with this pig. Especially with things ramping up on the other side of the pool now. One of Julio’s wealthy guests is openly fucking a bleached blonde woman with a rose tattoo on her thigh, and the sounds of their skin slapping together is resounding around the courtyard the same way Julio’s sour laughter did a second ago.
“So how do you propose we get rid of Ramirez, then?” Julio takes a sip from the drink in front of him, his eyes never leaving me. “He’s always protected. He goes nowhere alone. We’d need to do something pretty crazy to get to him.”
“We can do crazy. It’s just how far you’re willing to go…”
Julio pouts, shrugging his shoulders. “For the Mexican border, I’d be willing to go very far, my friend.”
“Good. Then call Ramirez and tell him you want to arrange a meeting. Tell him you have a business proposition for him.”
“Pssshhhh. Ramirez knows I would never discuss my business with him. We haven’t spoken in over seven years. He’ll be suspicious.”
“Let him be. Let him think you’re trying to out smart him somehow. If he’s focused on you and your men, wondering what game you’re playing, then he’s going to be temporarily blindsided. He might just forget about the Widow Makers for three seconds. You’ll be at his farmhouse. You’ll propose that you combine forces for one huge run from the south. Make him an offer he can’t refuse. Keep him and his men distracted for as long as possible.”
“And in the meantime, you’ll be moving into position, getting ready to sever the fucker’s head from his body, yes?”
“Exactly.”
“And how do you plan on doing that without getting all of us killed?” Julio asks. He takes another long drink from his beer, his eyes glinting over the glass.
“Don’t you worry about that,” I tell him. “The Widow Makers will have that covered.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CADE
Jamie and Sophia are gone for three days. They return just after dark on the third day, the throbbing engines of their motorcycles making the beer glasses on the shelves of the clubhouse rattle and chime against one another. Shay’s first to the door to see for herself who’s just pulled up at the compound gates, despite the fact that we can all probably identify the individual rumble of not only Rebel’s bike but Sophia’s Ducati now, too.
Shay swears under her breath when she rips the door open. “There’s a car with them. A Humvee, like ours.”
I get up to see for myself. Jamie didn’t say to expect company when he returned from the Californian desert. Seems like he brought some home with him all the same. It’s impossible to tell who jumps out of the Humvee, but from my vantage point out the front of the clubhouse, I can plainly see my best friend climbing off his motorcycle, as well as Sophia, standing next to him, removing her helmet, shaking out her hair.
“What the fuck is he doing?” Shay hisses. “Things were never like this before. We were just fine, flying under the radar. Now we’ve got the DEA and a fucking cartel on our doorstep. And now this.”
“And what’s this, Shay?”
She folds her arms across her chest, frowning into the darkness, clearly pissed off beyond words. “I don’t know yet, but I can guarantee you it’s nothing good.”
Carnie throws an arm over her shoulder, hugging her to his side. “Rebel knows what he’s doing, babe. We all trust him. Right?”
Shay doesn’t answer as quickly as she should. Finally she clears her throat and says, “Sure. Of course we do. It’s not him I’m worried about. It’s her I don’t trust.” She spins on her heel and heads back inside the clubhouse, collecting a bottle of scotch from the bar as she walks by. Her hurried footsteps are thunderous as she runs up the flight of stairs to the second floor, where she and Carnie have taken to sleeping.
“Think I should go after her?” Carnie asks.
“Who the fuck knows. Shay’s your Rubik’s Cube to figure out, not mine. I gave up on that one pretty much the moment I met her.”
Carnie grunts. I don’t think he likes to be reminded that the girl he’s hooking up with is difficult to say the least. Impossible would probably be a better word. He steps back inside, leaving me alone in front of the clubhouse, listening to the soft susurrus of crickets whispering in the distance while I wait for Jamie to come find me.