Read Club Alpha for Free Online Page B

a drink and to enjoy the night life.” His eyes become hooded.
    “Women?” I ask without really needing an answer.
    His palms spread from his sides. “Ah—yeah.”
    I look at him critically. As a man of color, Tallinn is exotic enough to be attractive to the local population because he is American, though Mexicans generally prefer lighter-skinned peoples. Mazatlán was settled in antiquity by Spaniards and the French.
    I am both.
    Though Americans are considered aggressive and the locals treat their presence with a sort of wary caution, the south also harbors a latent fascination with the culture of our northern neighbors.
    “You won't find as much of that in old town. You will need to visit the Zona Dorado.”
    “Golden Zone? Yeah, I know.” He studies my expression just as some turbulence kicks up, bouncing us in our seats. “Woot!” Tallinn trumpets as his rear leaves the seat.
    My eyes flick to the door that my pilot is seated behind. I frown, my hands clenching my glass.
    “I would ask that you take care in that area.”
    “Narco bullshit?”
    I have not enlightened my personal trainer, bodyguard, and friend as to why we’re taking this spontaneous trip. Tallinn is accustomed to my last-minute notice of only hours.
    I lean back, forcing myself to relax, and lift my empty glass. “Always.”
    Tiffany the flight attendant comes and takes the glass before moving to the other end of the cabin. I briefly admire her blond hair and svelte figure. A man always wishes for what he does not have. Fair women have always held appeal for me.
    Yet, I am more unusual in my coloring than many of my family. It is the Basque ancestry, renown for fair skin and light eyes. Though only the green of my eyes and my height speaks to it.
    The pilot's voice comes over the intercom as smooth as glass. “Prepare for landing, Mr. Castillo.”
    “What about me?”
    I laugh. “I think he assumes you'll follow suit.”
    Tallinn grunts, and I close my eyes in relief. Being on the earth is so much better than being above it.
     
    *
     
    “ Buenas Tardes , Alfredo.” I press one cheek then the other against my long-time driver's face.
    He is stooped, and many years of life are etched into a face that smiles often.
    We grin at each other. “Francisco!” he calls out loudly in pleasure, gripping my forearms. He looks me over. When his eyes finally meet mine, he tsks. “Raquel will be stricken when she sees how thin you are, muy flaco , mi amigo .”
    “No—Alfredo, gordo !” Tallinn laughs, and Alfredo just shakes his head.
    “ Usted es el gordo,” Alfredo says, eyes sparkling as he indicates Tallinn's stocky frame.
    I cock an eyebrow. “He's saying you're fat, Tallinn.”
    Tallinn grunts. “I am not. You're the one…” He glances at himself. He certainly has more than six percent body fat, yet—as he would say—he is built like a brick shithouse.
    I smirk at my thoughts.
    Tallinn relents, doing a knuckle bump with Alfredo. “ Como estas? ” 
    “ Muy bien !” Alfredo answers, and Tallinn gives him a hug that makes his eyes bug. I let them have their moment, which is nearly a tradition. Then Alfredo moves to open my door, and I slide inside the cool interior of the limousine.
    A bucket holds chilling sparkling cider, and I silently thank Raquel for remembering how defeated I feel after a flight.
    I uncork the top and take a sip.
    Tallinn takes the bottle and pours his own glass. He eyes the floating bubbles before tipping his head back for a gulp.“Ah!” He smacks his lips. “Hits the bull's-eye!”
    We sip the cider while riding in companionable silence. 
    “Why Club Alpha?” Tallinn asks.
    “I think we've beaten this horse to death.”
    “You could have anyone, Paco. I'm just not getting it.” He groans, apparently thinking about the invisible potential bounty of women I am missing.
    I shake my head. “I don't want anyone . I want that woman who was made for me, who does not feel she can take another breath