Page 26 of Rebel
Cade slugs back his whiskey and slams his glass down on the table. “Plan B, man. Use the girl. Get her to stand up.”
I take my own drink in my hands, rolling the glass between my palms. Sometimes alcohol makes me think clearly, can give me a better perspective when I’m trying to solve a problem. Not right now, though. It’s making my head muzzy. “Not an option. Dela Vega told Sophia he’s going after her family. He told her he was gonna rape her fucking sister. She says there’s no way for him to find them if she doesn’t testify.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It does if she’s lying about her name, and she’d be stupid not to. I’m sure Raphael doesn’t know her real name, either.”
“Is Danny working on finding out who she really is, then?”
I nod, catching sight of our hacker in the corner, laughing with some brunette I’ve seen him with a couple of times before. He’s the best. If anyone’s going to figure out who this woman is, it’s Danny.
“Okay, well in the meantime you just need to tell her we’ll put a detail on her family,” Cade says. “Promise her that we won’t let anything happen to them.”
I grunt, drinking my whiskey after all. I fucking need it. I doubt my brain cells are gonna come up with anything useful tonight. Might as well kill a few of them off. “She’s stubborn, man,” I say. “Really fucking stubborn. How do you propose I convince her without threatening physical violence?”
Cade slaps me hard on the arm. When I look up at him, there’s a broad grin spreading across his face. “You’re a fool, you know that? I’m pretty sure you could convince any woman in the world to dowhateveryou wanted. You have a seriously annoying talent for that.”
I glare at him, tapping my finger against the rim of my glass. “What the hell does that mean?”
Cade sighs, leaning closer across the table. “I can’t believe after all these years you’re gonna make me say it. Women find you attractive, asshole. You’re a handsome son of a bitch.” He’s about to finish off his whiskey when he pauses, the glass halfway to his mouth, and says, “Not thatIthink you’re attractive, though.Ithink you’re fucking hideous.”
“Right back at ya, fucker.” We raise our glasses, draining what was left in them, and then we sit in silence, listening to the chatter of the club members around us. Carnie’s still trying to crack onto Shay. Pathetic. I lean back in my chair, scrubbing my hands over my face. “So you’re saying I should flirt with her to get her to do what I want? Am I understanding you right here?”
Cade nods gravely. “A means to an end, my friend. And, come on, she’s hardly ugly. I have faith in your ability to mac on some beautiful woman in order to get what you want. You’ve done it a million times before. I’ve witnessed it myself.”
“Fuck you.”
“You deny it?”
I can’t really do that. He’s right. I have used the way I look in the past to get a girl into bed, and I’m not sorry for it. But this is different. This is Sophia’slife, the lives of her family. Can I be a total douche bag and potentially put her whole family in danger to get justice for Ryan?
I pose myself the question because it’s the right thing to do. But I’ve already let that devious, calculating part of me out of its cage today; turns out I haven’t managed to cram him back into his box. Icando it. And using Sophia is a hell of a lot better for a hell of a lot more people than any of the other options open to me. So be it. I’ll win her over and convince her she needs to help us, and I’ll do it fast. That way I can honor what I’ve said to her and get her home quickly.Et voila. Everybody’s fucking happy. Cade refills his glass and holds out the bottle of Laphroaig to me, offering me more. I hold up my glass, resigning myself to my fate. Tomorrow,Operation: Woo Sophiawill be in full effect. Cade was right—she’s all kinds of hot—so it won’t exactly be taxing on my part. Might not be as easy as Cade thinks it will be, though. There’s only one reason Ramirez would have sold her at such a high price, and that’s because she must be a virgin. Virgins aren’t exactly the types to jump into bed with a guy just because he pays them a bit of attention. I push that thought from my mind, not wanting to think about claiming this girl’s virginity. A hard-on would be seriously fucking inappropriate, as well as the last thing I need to deal with in the clubhouse. “So tell me, Cade. Which part of me do you think’s my best feature?” I try not to laugh.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” he says, shaking his head. “And it’s getting late. Shall we get things rolling then?” I place my hand on top of the black bag sitting in between Cade and me. My best friend smirks, tipping his glass in my direction.
“I’ll leave this one up to you,” he says.
“Why, thank you.” I may sound sarcastic, but it’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of making a call like this. The Widowers need this, and so do I. The bar’s full, club members drinking at tables and leaning against walls. There are over twenty members to the club, and they’re permitted to bring people into the bar once they’ve been vetted by Danny to make sure they’re not cops. The place can get pretty rowdy. The arrangement isn’t perfect. Fights break out. Members, both male and female, end up sleeping with the wrong person. Shit gets broken. But for the most part we make it work.
I draw some curious looks from the guys closest to me when I get up, Cade’s bag of tricks in my hand. Fatty, the Widowers’ resident bartender and sometimes chef sees me approaching the bar, sees what I have in my hand, and has an unopened bottle of Texas Trader’s Bourbon out on the counter before I can even ask for it. Trader’s is the cheapest, nastiest, shittiest bourbon ever made. I can still remember the bottle I had to finish when I first started this thing. My gut twists, also remembering the vast majority of that cheap, nasty, shitty bourbon coming back up again. Violently.
“I thought this might be coming soon,” Fatty says, breaking into a grin. “You sure he’s ready?”
I knock my fist against the counter, grinning back at him. “Fuck yeah. If the guy can make it through an encounter with Maria Rosa unscathed, he’s earned his ink.”
Fatty laughs, reaching for a pack of smokes and lighting one. “He’s gonna be unbearable after this.”
“Oh, I know. If his head gets too big, you can just kick his ass. Cool?”
“Cool.”
I turn around, finding that the oldest Widow Makers—Keeler, Brassic, Danny, Foxer and Josephine—have already stood up and are waiting with knowing smiles on their faces. Foxer, the guy responsible for managing the grow we have underway beneath the worn floorboards of the barn, is also in charge of new recruits. I’ve already spoken to him about what’s about to take place and he’s green lit the guy. He gives me a sharp nod when our eyes make contact, reaffirming his approval. I may be the head honcho around here, but I don’t have time to personally assess every new recruit we get. I value Foxer’s opinion as much as I do Cade’s, though. He knows what it takes to be a Widower. If he’d saidnot now, not ready, this wouldn’t be happening.
“Carnie, you ugly motherfucker!” I shout over the top of the chatter in the bar. Carnie, sitting across the other side of the room, immediately looks up, surprise on his face. He pushes his glasses up onto his head and stands. Everyone else is silent. “What’s up, Boss?” he asks.
I collect the bottle of Trader’s off the counter and I crack it open in front of him. I wince as I take the tiniest of sips. Everyone in the clubhouse roars, the sounds of their hollering and cheering set to raise the rafters on the place. Carnie, god bless him, looks around, completely confused. I hand off the bottle to Cade, who also takes a really fucking small sip.
“It’s time,” I tell him. “You’re in.”
