Clucking my tongue against the roof of my mouth, I meet his gaze.
“First off, don’t fucking talk to me like I’m beneath you. I don’t give a fuck about bloodlines— we both know I do a fuck of a lot more around here than you do and if it weren’t for me, you’d be fucking dead.”
“Should I tell you where you’d be if it weren’t for me?” he counters, cocking his head to the side.
Oh, I know where I’d be and suddenly, it’s a lot more appealing. Grinding my teeth, I lean forward and match his stance.
“I didn’t know Pablo was even in the club until Miguel came to me and told me Pilar was unresponsive in one of the VIP booths. I immediately took her off the floor and brought her downstairs, he gave her a shot of Narcan, and I played back the surveillance tapes. Luckily, Rodriguez is a greedy motherfucker and stuck around after he sold to her. I knocked his two guys out and grabbed him when he was taking a piss, his dick was still in his hand when I dragged him to the basement. You want to know his last words too?”
Swiping a hand over his face, he mutters a curse. I lift an eyebrow at his response and laugh bitterly.
“I’m sorry, should we grieve the motherfucker who was dealing drugs in our club and nearly killed my girlfriend? Wait, maybe I should’ve paused before I pulled the trigger and asked your permission.”
“For fuck’s sake, Joaquin, I’m not fucking busting your balls for taking him out. You should’ve seen Uncle Vic’s face— he lit up like a Christmas tree. He was so proud and thanks to you, I’m nephew of the year and— ”
“What are you talking about? How did Vic know?” I ask, fearing the guys fucked up when dumping Pablo’s body.
He sighs, leaning against the leather cushions of the couch as he spreads his arms across the back.
“Did you stop to ask yourself how Pablo was allowed into the club?”
Recalling the conversation, I had with Omar before I made my way up to Rocco’s office, I nod.
“Omar said he was on the guest list, which is crazy because I checked the list earlier in the afternoon. I didn’t have a chance to dig deeper into it because Victor suddenly appeared, and I had to get back to Pilar.”
“Victor put Pablo on the list.”
“What? That makes no sense.”
“It was a fucking test, one I apparently passed thanks to you.”
“A test,” I repeat. “Why the fuck would he test us?”
The only logical explanation would be that someone reported some bullshit to him— my guess, that weasel Jimmy Gold. He might be Victor’s right hand, but there’s something not right with that motherfucker and it isn’t just his gold teeth.
“Bro,” he calls, demanding my eyes. He swipes a hand over his face and his bloodshot eyes go wide as he blows out a shaky breath. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but what if he was testing me because he’s finally decided to make me a made guy.”
The tension that was escalating between us only moments ago suddenly dissipates, and I stare at him, trying to find the words. If that’s the case, that’s a huge deal. It’s huge for me too seeing as I can never be made. Having Rocco play with the big dogs is good for our crew. It gives us the power we lack in the organization. You see, him being a made guy means he can essentially do whatever the fuck he wants. He can take out anyone so long as he isn’t a made too and use his weight with the family to make a score. It means he has a say in what the fuck goes on. But more than any of that, it is his chance to finally step away from his deceased father’s shadow and rid himself of the tarnished reputation he inherited because they shared the same name.
Still, Victor setting us up like that, I don’t like it. Not only because I have another man’s blood on my hands, but because Pilar was a victim of his games.
“Wait a minute,” I start, pausing to swallow the lump in my throat. “When you say Victor set us up with Pablo, what does that mean?”
“He put his name on the list to see how I’d handle having a well-known drug dealer on my turf. You know how he feels about drugs.”
Pilar’s face flashes in my head as I rise to my feet and start to pace in front of the coffee table separating us.
“So because Victor wanted to test you, Pablo was allowed in the club with his drugs. Was Pilar part of the plan too or was she just a fucking coincidental casualty?”
“Uncle Vic has no idea who Pilar is,” he says, narrowing his eyes for a moment.
That’s not entirely true. During a few of his visits, he’s met her. She even came to dinner with us one night. I never introduced her as a girlfriend or anything like that, but that shouldn’t matter. She was with me and if . . .
“Man, get that shit out of your head. You’re looking for someone to blame when the truth is, Pilar’s a junkie. She knows where to get her shit and if it wasn’t Pablo it would’ve been someone else. You put a drug dealer in a room with people looking for an escape, the dealer is gonna score— all Uncle Vic did was set the stage for what he knew was inevitable.”
He goes silent and my mind drifts back to Pablo’s last words.
I didn’t know she was yours.
Would it have made a difference if he knew she belonged to me?
“Fuck, you’re in love with her,” Rocco accuses.
I lift my gaze to his. For a fleeting moment, after Pablo uttered those words, I wanted everyone to know she was mine, including the guy I considered a brother. Then reality settled in and I remembered this life I’m living ain’t meant to be shared with a woman or . . . a child.
“She was pregnant,” I reveal, scrubbing both hands over my face. After a moment of silence passes between us, I brace myself and drop my hands to my sides.
“What do you mean, was?”
“She had an abortion.” The words sound just as foul as they did when I handed her the money and told her to get rid of it.
“Jesus, man,” he hisses. “And you said not to drink this early,” he mutters, pulling himself off the couch. I watch as he reaches for his empty glass and crosses the room, pouring himself a refill. He takes a gulp before turning back to me. “I’m guessing you wanted her to keep it?”
“I’m the one who gave her the money and told her to take care of it, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want it. That part of me isn’t fucking dying inside.” I shake my head and look at him. “A baby doesn’t fit in this life.”
“Would it have really fit in hers either? She needs to get straight, man.”
“Maybe she would’ve,” I say. “She was clean from the minute she found out.” My voice trails and I sigh. “It doesn’t matter,” I tell him, clearing my throat. “We’re done.”
Finished before we began.
Rocco bites the inside of his cheek as he studies me for a beat. Before he can bestow any advice— which, let’s be real, he’s probably the last person who should be dishing out advice on relationships or anything for that matter— I clear my throat.
“We need to put a plan in place should any of Pablo’s men feel the need to retaliate,” I tell him. The worrisome look on his face dies and he shakes his head.