as we stroll through the busy sidewalks. This is why I don’t come out here often. Sure, I’ve been here before, but not lately. Too many fucking people. Too many risks and something about being here makes me feel vulnerable and I don’t like that damn feeling. My fingers tighten around Whit’s. She looks up at me but doesn’t say a word. She can feel it too. She has to be able to sense the tension in me. As we approach a small cigar shop my eyes linger on the window, or more to the asshole inside the window. I curse under my breath.
“What’s wrong?” Whitley asks noticing my shift in mood.
“If I asked you to stay right here do you think you could handle listenin’ to me?” I ask her as my eyes burn into hers. She narrows her eyes but nods her head yes. I lean in and kiss her roughly and position her by the window so I can see her. As I reach for the door handle, I point at her. “Don’t move from that spot.” Whitley nods her head but doesn’t smile.
When I step inside the smell of my past hits me hard. My grandpa used to smoke cigars. It was a sweet smell that I used to love as a kid. It makes me miss him even more than I already do.
“You’re on the wrong side of town, no?” I ask stepping up to the asshole standing at the counter. Slowly his head turns and his gaze locks on mine.
“Cuban cigars? I’d say this is my spot, yeah?” Alvaro Diaz replies.
Alvaro Diaz. Cuban asshole. Not the club’s favorite person in the world. We made many deals with Diaz in the past. When he started working closely with Armando we pulled back. We knew there was a takeover of some sort coming. We knew that the two of them merging was going to be bad news, and not just for the club either. It was bad for all of Miami. Two of the biggest drug lords alive meshing into one? That’s never going to be a good sign. We handle Armando appropriately, but Diaz has always seemed a little odd to me. His actions never seemed to match his words.
“Thought you stuck to your own country now? Didn’t realize you came stateside quite so often,” I say while picking up a cigar and bringing it to my nose. After inhaling the rich scent, I set it back on the counter before turning and leaning my hip against it. Crossing my arms over my chest, I simply watch Diaz.
“I didn’t realize I needed your permission to come stateside as you put it.”
“You don’t. You just surprised me is all.”
“Yes, well, I do seem to have that impact on people. Surprise is the name of the game, no?” The look in his eyes just pisses me off. It’s as though he’s dropping hints and I’m totally missing them. Fucking bastard.
“Suppose so. Nice seein’ you Diaz,” I say as I shove off the counter and head to the door.
“Oh Mason? That is quite a lovely lady you have there. I heard she is very, how did Armando say it? Sharable.”
Tension courses through me tightening all of my muscles. I don’t look back at him. If I do, I’ll rip his fucking throat out. Instead I shove through the door and step into the heat outside.
Grabbing Whit’s hand, I yank her along with me as I stalk through the streets. She’s doesn’t ask me what my problem is as I drag her along. She just tries her hardest to keep up with me.
Once my bike comes into view, I release her, grab my extra helmet, and shove it into her hands. I slide mine on without saying a word. Whit just stands there looking lost. She stares at me not saying a word. When the tension becomes too much and I see Diaz again, I almost explode. Looking over her shoulder I see Diaz grin. Whitley turns around to follow my gaze before I hear the air rush from her lungs. What the fuck is going on here? Does she know him? There’s no fucking way that’s possible.
“Whit!” Her back is straight and her shoulders are set. She isn’t looking at me anymore. Her eyes are glued in his general direction. Diaz has since walked off and gotten into his overpriced luxury car, but Whitley hasn’t moved yet.
“Whitley! What the hell is goin’ on?” I grab her shoulders, but