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impressive grasp of the local Spanish lingo, or her impressive handling of my cock.
    Well, that was a lie. I was all about the cock-handling.
    “How’d you hook up with the guero ?” Carlos asked, stabbing me with his soulless eyes.
    “Name’s Griffin.” Chachi cholo motherfucker.
    “I’m the brains. He’s the muscle.” Kiki squeezed my dick in a firm grip.
    That’s one way to put it. And she’s definitely using the pussy angle with me.
    Didn’t mind, as long as she put out.
    Laughs followed. At my expense. Whatever. Better than a hail of bullets raining down on me. Or getting shot in my ass.
    “He showed up as soon as we lost our connection with the Blood Legion MC.” Jefe continued to talk about me, like I wasn’t sitting at the same damn table.
    “Blood who?” I knocked Kiki’s masterful massaging hand off my dick. “I don’t run with biker gangs.”
    Of course, I’d been present for the bloody takedown of the MC in New Orleans in October—the night the Legion had been cutting a deal with the cartel and the terrorist cell they dealt with.
    I’d hardly gotten an eyeball on any of the Los Reyes men that night, but just in case they’d seen me, I’d changed my appearance. Scruffy dark-brown stubble covered my jaw, a tight skull cap pulled over my head hid most of the tats on the back of my neck. Leather wrist cuffs instead of my usual huge watch. Mirrored shades over my mismatched eyes.
    Oh, and a grim look on my face.
    Wasn’t much of a makeover.
    Meh.
    Fuck ’em.
    “Who’d you say is supplying you again?” Skanky Carlos continued to grill me.
    “Didn’t.” I gave a sharkish smile. “But if you gotta know, T-Zone Outfitters. Get it?”
    I pointed a finger dead center on my forehead and pretended to pull the trigger. The best lie was the one closest to the truth. No one knew about the agency we worked for—Operation T-Zone. It was a shadow organization shrouded in secrecy from the top to the bottom to the freakin’ janitors who cleaned the HQ in DC.
    Carlos’s laugh heralded another round of drinks, and I slowly eased the tension from my shoulders when we started cooking up the deal that would bring me one step closer to the haji, and one step closer to Kiki’s demise.
    I watched her, my lips hidden behind the glass I held, as she charmed the asswipe with every word spoken.
    Edgy.
    Ambitious.
    Clearly connected in ways Walker, Justice, Storm, and I didn’t have a fucking clue about.
    Sexy and smart.
    A traitor to T-Zone?
    I just couldn’t believe it.
    “50 calibers too,” I interrupted their tête-à-tête. “We have a stash to unload. Waiting for the highest bidder.”
    We couldn’t outright supply the cunts with WMDs or IEDs or fully armed bombs, but— hey —automatic weapons. Why not?
    I had to remember this fucking game had an endpoint.
    “When do we get the merchandise?” Carlos addressed Kiki.
    “Tomorrow night. I’ll text you. Same number?”
    With his nod, I nudged Kiki from the booth, muttering with a smirk, “Fuck you very much, hombre. ”
    I took Kiki’s hand and all but dragged her from the joint. “You and me? We need to talk, Senorita .”

Chapter Six
    Baby Spy
     
     
     
    AS SOON AS WE were enclosed in the SUV and speeding away from the ghetto, I lit a cigarette and clamped it between my teeth. “Wanna tell me what that was about back there?”
    Kiki propped one booted foot on the dash and lazily rolled her head in my direction. “What?”
    “You and your fucking papi, Carlos.”
    She snorted. “Papi? That’s just gross. Is that the kind of thing that gets you off?” She moued her lips in a pout and breathed out, “ Daddy ?”
    Well, if she was gonna call me Daddy like that then hell-yeah-maybe.
    “No,” I grunted out, throwing off the skull cap. The shit made my head itch. “Talk, girl.”
    “ Ooh . Girl again. So you do have kinky tendencies.”
    “Kiki. Goddammit.” I growled.
    “Okay. Jesus. Don’t get your balls in a knot.” She