Page 1 of Honey Heat
Chapter One
Why had Lucio agreed to that damn drinking challenge last night? His head felt like it was being hammered relentlessly, each throb echoing like a war drum. He groaned and leaned forward at the table, a cup of untouched coffee sitting in front of him.
The pounding became even louder, until he realized it was actually coming from his front door and not just inside his head.
“Joder,” he muttered, dragging himself from his seat. Lucio shuffled to the door, cursing softly in his native language. He swung it open to find Chopper’s grinning face. Behind him stood Raphael, keys jingling between his fingers.
“Buenos días, princess,” Chopper said, pushing past him into the house. “Rough night?” The smell of motor oil and leather trailed behind him.
“Thanks for the update.” Lucio squinted past them at the bright sky. “What time is it?”
Raphael checked his watch. “Almost noon.”
Lucio closed his eyes, willing his stomach to settle. The stale heat of the house clung to his skin, sticking his shirt to his back in places. Outside, the faint hum of cicadas filled the silence, undercut only by the low rumble of someone’s lawn mower.
Raphael walked past him, boots heavy against the wooden floor. “Matias sent us. Cameras at the warehouse went dark last night. He wants us to check it out.”
The warehouse was only twenty-five minutes across town, but even that short ride sounded like torture. “Can’t you guys do it?”
“Jefe wants you there,” Raphael said. He paused at the kitchen table, eyeing the cold coffee. “You’re our tech genius.”
Lucio ran a hand through his messy hair. “Now? Can’t it wait until my brain stops trying to escape my skull?”
“Poor baby wolf can’t handle his tequila?” Chopper opened Lucio’s fridge, helping himself to a bottle of water. “Never thought I’d see the day Percy would drink you under the table.”
“That little human has the alcohol tolerance of a grizzly,” Lucio muttered. “Give me fifteen minutes to shower. Need to wash off the shame.”
Raphael tossed an apple from the counter fruit bowl. “Take your time, lightweight. We’ll raid your kitchen while we wait.”
“How does a human out-drink a wolf anyway?” Chopper called after him as Lucio headed for the bathroom. “Percy must have a liver made of steel.”
Under the hot spray of the shower, Lucio cursed Percy’s inexplicable alcohol tolerance. For a human half his size, the man could put away tequila like it was water. Lightweight jealousy bubbled in his chest as he scrubbed away the stink of last night’s poor decisions.
Hot water did little to improve Lucio’s hangover, but at least he smelled better.
Twenty minutes later, tools packed and hangover slightly dulled by four aspirin, Lucio grabbed his leather jacket from the hook by the door and slipped his gun into his waistband. The weight of it against his lower back provided a familiar comfort.
Lucio joined the others outside where their bikes waited, chrome glinting in the bright sun. He climbed onto his motorcycle. The rumble of the engine sent vibrations through his skull that made him wince. Chopper and Raphael revved their bikes beside him, and they took off.
Heat radiated from the asphalt, making Lucio’s stomach roll. Sweat trickled down his back as they rode, and the wind offered no relief. It was just pushing more hot air against his face like a blow dryer on high. His stomach lurched with each bump in the road.
The ride through town was mercifully short. As they passed Sin & Steel, pack members nodded, a few raising their beer bottles in greeting.
“You good back there?” Chopper yelled over his shoulder.
“Fantastic,” Lucio shouted back, tasting bile at the back of his throat. Vomiting would mean endless mockery from these two pendejos. He swallowed hard, focusing on the road ahead.
After fifteen more minutes of torture, the warehouse appeared in the distance. Ugly concrete against the blue sky, isolated and forgotten except for the bad memories it held. Lucio had never understood why they hadn’t burned this place to the ground after everything that had happened here. Diablo’s kidnapping. Those hyena bastards Matias had killed. The half-shifted corpses of Rico’s victims. Diablo’s mate held hostage like a bargaining chip.
Gravel crunched under their tires as they pulled up to the building. Killing the engines, they dismounted and stood for a moment, scanning the area. Nothing moved except trash in the breeze and a few tumbleweeds caught against the fence. Silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by distant bird calls.
“Place still gives me the creeps,” Raphael muttered, rolling his shoulders.
“Let’s get this over with,” Lucio said, grabbing his tool bag.
Inside, the warehouse smelled of rust and abandonment. Dust motes danced in the beams of sunlight streaming through broken windows. Their boots echoed on the concrete floor as they made their way to the security cameras set up in hidden spots in the warehouse.
“Mierda,” Lucio muttered, examining the first camera.
