Page 46 of Iron Heart

“You have my word, Axel.”

I’m not sure if it’s bravado, but Indio doesn’t hesitate.

“Yeah? How can we be sure?” Bama pipes up again, his tone mocking. “Looks to me like you’re down a few men. And now Los Caballeros have the gun power of Sinaloa on their side. What if you lose this war? Why should we stick with our agreement with the Dos Santos cartel?” He lets out a sharp laugh. “Hell, you’re not even the Dos Santos cartel anymore, now that Chaco’s dead. The Lords would be fuckin’ fools to stick with the losing side.”

Indio glances at Bama as though he’s a particularly annoying species of mosquito. His eyes narrow as he turns to Axel.

“We had an agreement. That agreement still stands, yes?”

Axel nods. “Yeah. And we’re not planning to back out of it.” He cuts his eyes at Bama. “As thepresident,” he continues, emphasizing the word, “I give you my promise on that.”

Indio seems to relax slightly. His bodyguards are still at stiff attention, scowling.

“The Dos Santos cartel will fight to the death to keep what is ours,” Indio rasps. “We will fight the Caballeros, and whoever comes after that.” He looks around the room at all of the Lords in attendance. His eyes slide from one of us to the next, holding each of our gazes for a second.

“But know this,” he continues. “If the Caballeros take our territory, it will not be theirs for long. They do not seem to understand this. The leader of Los Caballeros has sided with the wrong people. Their only hope of survival was to ally with us and fight Sinaloa. Now — whether the Dos Santos cartel wins or loses — Los Caballeros will be absorbed into Sinaloa. The leadership will be killed. The others...” — he gives an emphatic shake of his head — “will be expected to bend the knee. Or be killed as well. And then, my friends, instead of dealing with me — with the Dos Santos cartel, who only wants to do business with you —youwill be facing a larger, more powerful cartel than you have ever faced. Sinaloa will come for you next.”

Indio pauses.

“And who knows? They may already be looking for ways to take you out.”

19

Tori

Dante doesn’t show up to work on my place the next day, or the day after that. Or the day after that.

I think about calling him or texting him. But I don’t. Because I don’t have any idea what to say. How to act normal, when what’s happened between us is anything but.

My life goes on, outwardly the same. Inside, though, I’m a mess. I can’t get that one wild night with Dante out of my head. His body feels like it’s imprinted itself on mine. I remember the exact sandpaper of roughness of his callused fingers as they brushed my back. I remember the heat of his mouth as it took mine.

I remember the raw, animal sound he made as he came inside me. The memory of it still echoes through me like an aftershock.

I go through the motions of my job. The days fly by, but the minutes drag so slow that it’s a kind of agony.

One morning, I go in to work and find a bouquet of pink and white lilies on my desk. And then I remember.

It’s my birthday.

The flowers are from my dad. Ever since he and my mom divorced, a bouquet of lilies has been his standard birthday gift to me. I think maybe he doesn’t know what else to give to his twenty-something daughter. The gesture is sweet and touching. But the flowers always make my birthday feel a little like a funeral at the same time. An annual memorial for my twin brother who never lived to celebrate it with me.

The card attached to the bouquet says what it always does: “Happy birthday to my best girl.” Smiling against the pang of complicated emotions — love for my father, sadness that he and my mom aren’t together, grief for my brother — I tuck the card into my desk drawer and sit down to work.

Savannah calls and invites me out for lunch to celebrate my big day. She takes me to Flavors, the nicest restaurant in Ironwood, and basically forces me to order an entree and a fancy dessert. We spend the whole time gossiping and laughing, and for a while I even forget to be preoccupied with Dante. I still haven’t told my best friend about what happened with the sexy biker who also happens to be my electrician. I push away my guilt by assuring myself that I’ll give her the full scoop later — once Dante has completed the project, and is solidly in my rear-view mirror.

After lunch, Frank surprises me by bringing in cookies for the whole office. He calls all the staff into the main room and wishes me a happy birthday — which prompts an embarrassing, off-key round of the birthday song. I’m not sure whether he already knew it was my birthday, or whether he was the one who accepted the flowers for me and figured it out that way. I suspect it was the latter.

I look around at my colleagues — Frank, Ryan, Jake, Heidi — feeling strangely touched by the cookies and song. It’s a weird sensation. It’s not even five o’clock yet, and already this is the most people who’ve acknowledged my birthday in years.

Mid-afternoon, I’m just about to go on a break when “Mom” lights up my phone screen. I take the call and go outside.

“Happy birthday, sweetie!” Mom sings when I answer.

“Thanks, Mom! It’s been a good one so far.”

“I hope your father remembered to send you something,” she murmurs in a disdainful tone.

“He did. He sent me flowers to the office.”

---