Page 27 of Volt
He shakes his head. “God, no. Not at all. We were fighting the Zavala cartel. Trying to prevent them from opening shop in Blue Rock. It turned into a firefight and that’s how he was killed,” he says. “If we hadn’t acted when we did, the cartel would have overrun Blue Rock. There would have been sicarios on every corner and their poison flooding the streets. So, we took the fight to them. It got hairy and some people got hurt.”
“And now this guy’s brother is back and is looking for revenge?”
Blake nods, and I can see by the look on his face that he’s hurting bad.
“But you guys don’t do business with the cartel?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Not even a little bit. Aside from the hard drugs those pricks sell, they traffic women all over the world and that’s not our game. If I had my way, we’d destroy the cartel once and for all.”
I study him closely for a moment and find that I believe him. His club may not have entirely clean hands, but I believe him when he says they don’t deal with the cartels. That they were fighting against them. He was earnest and sincere, and I like to think I’m pretty perceptive myself, and I detected no deception in him.
It makes me feel slightly better. But I know that just because his club isn’t actively involved with the cartels and Blake isn’t necessarily like some of the other bad guys I’ve known, that doesn’t mean he can’t rain a shitstorm down on my head anyway. Their war with this cartel boss guy seems to ensure that they, in fact, will.
It should be so easy to just cut this off right now. It should be easy to tell him that I won’t put myself in a position to be involved with somebody who deals in that sort of violence or has some cartel boss looking to exact his revenge. It should be so simple to thank him for a wonderful night and tell him we probably shouldn’t see each other again. It should be so easy.
But something inside of me says it really isn’t going to be that easy after all. There’s a large piece of me that already feels attached to him and even at this early stage, sending him packing would hurt. For as much as I’ve fought to keep myself from getting involved with anybody, there’s something about Blake that makes me want to stick around. It’s like I told him in the bar—I just like being around him.
It’s not often I feel that instant spark with somebody—mostly of my own doing. But I felt it with him. Still feel it despite everything he’s just told me and despite how much it scares the shit out of me. There’s something inside of me that wants to take that spark and nurture it, feed it, and help it grow into a proper flame. Trust me, nobody is more surprised than I am by that turn of events. But Blake has blindsided me in a way no man ever has before. And because of that, I’m loath to cut it off before it ever begins.
At the same time, I’m afraid of the things he and his club are into. Not necessarily even for myself. I think I’m far enough removed from it that the violence probably wouldn’t touch me directly. No, I’m afraid for him. After hearing how his friend was murdered by this cartel guy, I can’t stop seeing that same thing happening to Blake. I can’t get the image of him lying dead on a warehouse floor out of my head. It’s an image that terrifies me. Having already suffered a horrible loss, I don’t know that I can mentally or emotionally afford to suffer another one.
The feelings I have for Blake right now are ridiculous and could be nothing more than an infatuation. Puppy love. But whatever it is I’m feeling, it’s powerful enough that it made me break my own rule of not getting involved with anybody.
“Not what you were expecting to hear, huh?” he asks.
“You could say that.”
“I understand if it makes you not want to get involved with me,” he replies softly. “It’s some pretty heavy shit and I have no idea why I just laid that all down on you like that. I’m sorry.”
I give him an awkward smile. “I guess it means you feel comfortable with me.”
He smirks. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. I do feel comfortable with you. And it’s strange for me, but I trust you,” he says, his voice distant. “There aren’t many people in this world I trust, but you’re apparently one of them.”
“I’m honored.”
“I think cursed was the word you were looking for.”
I laugh and shake my head. “No. That’s definitely not the word I was looking for. It’s just—it’s a lot. That was a lot to take in all at once.”
“Yeah, I have trouble doing things halfway. I’m not much for that ‘how’s the weather’ kind of small talk.”
“I can see that.”
He takes a drink of his coffee then turns to me. “So, where does this leave us?”
“I was just asking that question myself,” I reply softly and watch as he frowns. “And right now, I really don’t know. I wish I had an answer for you, but I don’t know, Blake. I just don’t know.”
Chapter Twelve
Volt
It’s been a couple of days since I left Fallon’s place that morning, and I still haven’t heard from her. Which kind of gives me my answer about where we stand. Ever since I opened my mouth and spewed all of that onto her that morning, I’ve been kicking my own ass. I’ve dialed her number a dozen times but could never hit the button to actually make the call. What in the hell was I thinking? Why did I do that? Why did I open my mouth?
I sigh and toss the rag down on the seat of my bike then pick up my coffee mug and take a sip. I haven’t slept much the last couple of days, so I’ve been spending my time just riding around, tuning up my bike, helping to build the memorial where we’re keeping Prophet’s bike in the clubhouse, and basically doing anything and everything that will help keep me occupied. That will help keep me from thinking of Fallon. Or even worse, riding out to Pineville to go see her. I’m sure I’m the last person she wants to see right now.
“Still nothing, huh?”
I look up to see Adam coming across the compound yard, coffee in hand, a concerned expression on his face. I shake my head.
