Zorro (Reapers MC #16) - Elizabeth Knox Page 0,8
toasted off their asses tonight. I sit on the bottom of the stairwell, sipping on my tequila, enjoying the happiness radiating off of everyone’s faces.
Bama, one of the new prospects, comes and takes a seat beside me. His road name is a token to the state he comes from, but he doesn’t look like a dude from Alabama. Instead, he looks like one of those rich kids who grew up in Malibu and began surfing when they were five. With golden blond hair and a smile that causes some of the Vixens to blush, I know he’ll make it far here in the club.
“You havin’ a good time here tonight?” I ask him. Since he’s one of the newer guys, I’m tryin’ to make sure I’m a bit more personable to them. Zane gets on me all the time for bein’ too quiet and scarin’ people off. Hell, Octavia too. It’s not like I can help it though. Fuck, Frost tells me I remind her of Dmitri from the Skulls Renegade MC. Silent and broody. That’s what she’s always saying.
Bama nods with a slight smile. The kid can’t be more than twenty-one if I had a guess. “Yeah, way different than back home. But it’s nice.”
He isn’t fooling me. The kid is all smiles but there’s something about him that makes me worried. Zane mentioned the reason he didn’t patch into our friends at the Sons of Gods MC, had something to do with his home. It reeks of shit, nasty, burnin’ out in the sun shit. I’d like to think the guy isn’t here to fuck us over, but I’m bettin’ that’s why Zane had him patch in here as a prospect. To keep him under close watch.
“I grew up in a trailer park on the rough side of the tracks. It was normal when I was a kid, but, as I aged, I saw how screwed up it really was. We were lucky if we even had a tree when I was small, and here . . . lemme say it’s just amazing how everyone comes together like this. Blood or no blood. This is the way Christmas should be.”
I might be judging the guy too harshly. The way he speaks says a lot about him, his positivity and all that shit. This is where yet again he reminds me of those California gurus who drink kale juice and have morning meditations.
“Grew up on the really rough parts, eh?” I ask, taking a swig of my tequila.
Bama combs his fingers through his curly hair. “Yeah, I mean it wasn’t the worst, but it really wasn’t the best either. My mom was one of those who’d rather spend the Christmas cash on whatever the fad was at the time, usually in the way of injecting it into her veins. And my dad . . . that guy’s an entirely different story. Big, brawler type who never gave a damn about his kids except when it suited him. You know?” The more he speaks, the more I get the feeling this kid has never had a real sense of family. Maybe he’s come here to get out from under Alabama’s shadow, whatever that might be, and find his true family.
“Bama, wanna dance with me?” Bambi, one of the Vixens, comes strutting up in a fully decked out pink ensemble.
He chuckles and nods. “How could I ever say no to a pretty girl like you?”
Within a moment he’s on his feet and is extending his hand out to Bambi, and they walk off toward the center of the room where the rest of the group is. But I’m not paying too much attention to what the rest of ‘em are doin’ when a flash of straight blonde hair comes into my view.
Ruby comes walking over and takes a seat on the same step as me. Her leg is maybe an inch or two away from mine and I notice the way she slowly closes the distance between us, until they both touch.
“Thank you for the gifts, Zorro. They were very thoughtful.”
“Santiago,” I tell her, speaking my name given at birth for the first time in many, many years. Ruby’s pale blue eyes meet my own and I watch as the realization of what I’ve told her sinks in. A delicate smile pulls at the corner of her lips.
“Wow. You’re really working the Latin part, huh?”
“Mhm, and I haven’t even told you how I got my road name,” I joke, though there