CHAPTER TWELVE
Brick
The sound of flesh hitting leather echoes through the clubhouse gym as I work the heavy bag, sweat dripping down my bare chest even though I shouldn’t be doing this.
I’m supposed to be resting, careful, not doing anything to open my stitches… but I need to get some of this fucking energy out.
Each punch is calculated, precise—the way I need to be when we walk into that auction in six days.
My ribs protest with each hit, but the pain keeps me focused.
"You're dropping your left shoulder," Doom observes from where he's spotting one of the other prospects on the bench press.
I adjust my stance, throwing another combination.
He's right—I'm favoring my injured side without realizing it.
Can't afford tells like that where we're going.
"Better," he grunts. "But you're still?—"
The gym door slams open, and Amara strides in.
The look on her face makes my stomach drop.
"Brick. My office. Now."
I grab a towel, wiping sweat from my face as I follow her out.
She doesn't speak as we walk through the clubhouse, but the tension rolling off her tells me everything I need to know.
Something's happened.
Imani is already in Amara's office when we arrive, still wearing one of my t-shirts she slept in, her hair messy from bed.
The early hour and the fact she hasn’t changed tells me Amara woke her up for this.
I move immediately to Imani's side. "What's wrong?"
Amara closes the door firmly behind us. "We got intel through our network. About Mateo."
Imani's entire body goes rigid. "Is he...?"
"Alive," Amara confirms quickly. "But being held. Diego has him."
The relief that flashes across Imani's face is immediately replaced by fury.
I've seen her angry before, but this is different—this is the rage of a cartel princess who's been betrayed by someone she considered family.
"Where?" Her voice is deadly quiet.
"Unknown. But our sources confirm Diego has seized control of several Torres operations. He's using your father's capture as leverage to legitimize his takeover."
"That fucking bastard," Imani breathes, her hands clenching into fists. "Twenty years. Twenty years of trust, of being part of our family..."
I place a hand on her shoulder, feeling the tremors running through her.
She's holding herself together by sheer will, but I can see the cracks forming.
"There's more," Amara continues. "My uncle Alejandro wants to meet. Today."
That gets my attention.
Alejandro Ramirez—Amara's uncle, Imani's godfather, and one of the most powerful cartel leaders in Mexico.
When men like that want meetings, you don't say no.
"Where?" I ask.
"Secure location outside the city. You're both coming with me and Dante." She glances at me. "My uncle wants to meet the man protecting his goddaughter."
Great.
No pressure or anything.
Just meeting one of the most dangerous men in Mexico while I'm fucking his goddaughter.
This should go well.
Imani stands up. "When do we leave?"
"Two hours. Gives us time to gather more intel and prepare." Amara's expression softens slightly. "Imani, I know this is?—"
"It's fine," Imani cuts her off. "I need to get ready."
She leaves the office quickly, too quickly.
I start to follow, but Amara stops me.
"Let her process for a minute," she advises. "This kind of betrayal... it hits different when it's someone you always thought was family."
"Diego wasn't blood."
"In our world, that doesn't matter. He watched her grow up. Probably bounced her on his knee as a baby." Amara's jaw tightens. "That kind of betrayal hits hard, Brick. Fuck, it demands payment in blood."
The casual way she discusses violence should bother me, but I've been in this life long enough to understand.
Some betrayals can only be answered one way.
"What should I expect from this meeting?" I ask.
"Alejandro is old school. Respectful, but traditional about certain things." She gives me a meaningful look. "He's going to know about you and Imani. Don't try to hide it, but don't flaunt it either."
"Understood."
"Good. Go check on her. We leave in ninety minutes."
I find Imani in her room, standing at the window staring out at nothing.
She's changed into jeans and a black blouse, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail with her curls just as tight.
The transformation from vulnerable woman to cartel princess is complete.
"Hey," I say softly, closing the door behind me.
"He has my father," she says without turning around. "Diego has my father, and it's my fault."
"Bullshit." I cross to her, turning her to face me. "Diego's betrayal isn't on you."
"Isn't it?" Her dark eyes are bright with unshed tears. "If I hadn't been investigating the trafficking ring, if I hadn't gotten close to the truth?—"
"Then they would have found another reason," I interrupt firmly. "Men like Diego don't turn overnight. This has been planned for a long time, probably years in the making."
She searches my face, looking for reassurance I'm not sure I can give.
All I can do is pull her into my arms, holding her as the tears finally come.
"We'll get him back," I promise against her hair. "Your father and Lashes both. Whatever it takes."
She clings to me, her body shaking with silent sobs.
This is the first time I've seen her truly break down, and it tears at something deep in my chest.
This woman who's been so strong, so composed through everything, finally letting herself be vulnerable.
"I can't lose him," she whispers. "He's all the family I have left."
"You won't," I say firmly. "And you're wrong about the family thing."
She pulls back to look at me, confusion in her tear-stained face.
"You have me now," I remind her. "The club. Alejandro. You're not alone in this."
Something shifts in her expression—gratitude mixed with something deeper.
"When did I get so lucky to find you?"
"Pretty sure I'm the lucky one," I reply, wiping tears from her cheeks.
She laughs softly, the sound watery but genuine. "We should probably stop being so sappy. I need to look composed for my godfather."
"Take your time. We've got an hour."
She nods, moving to the bathroom to fix her makeup.
I watch her rebuild her armor piece by piece—waterproof mascara, concealer to hide the redness, lipstick the color of fresh blood.
By the time she's done, you'd never know she'd been crying.
"How do I look?" she asks.
"Like a woman no one should fuck with," I answer honestly.
"Good." She checks her weapon, sliding it into the holster at her back. "That's exactly what I need to be."
An hour later, we're in one of the club's SUVs heading out of the city.
Dante drives while Amara rides shotgun, leaving Imani and me in the back.
Amara’s husband is a man of few words, but the respect he shows Amara is insane.
When you have a powerful woman like her by your side, he is the man you look up to when you think about the kind of old man you want to be.
"Tell me about the meeting location," I request, always wanting to know the terrain.
"Abandoned airstrip about forty miles northeast," Dante replies, his voice gravelly. "Alejandro uses it for sensitive meetings. Easy to secure, multiple exit routes."
"How many men will he have?"
"Dozen, maybe more," Amara answers. "But this isn't that kind of meeting. We’re his family—me and Imani. Real family."
I nod, but my hand still rests on my weapon.
Can't be too careful when meeting with cartel leadership, family or not.
Imani is quiet beside me, staring out the window at the desert passing by.
I want to take her hand, offer comfort, but I remember Amara's warning about not flaunting our relationship.
"Diego knows our security protocols," Imani says suddenly. "All of them. Every safe house, every contact, every route we use."
"Then we change them," Amara replies simply. "Alejandro's already working on it. By tomorrow, Diego's intel will be as worthless as him."
"He knows more than protocols," Imani continues. "He knows how my father thinks. His weaknesses. What buttons to push."
A man with that much knowledge could destroy the Torres organization from within.
The airstrip appears ahead—cracked tarmac stretching into the desert, a few abandoned buildings that might have been hangars once upon a time.
As we approach, vehicles materialize from concealed positions—black SUVs forming a perimeter.
"Stay calm," Amara advises. "Standard security."
We're directed to park near the largest building, where more armed men wait.
They're professionals—alert but not aggressive, weapons visible but not directly threatening.
As we exit the vehicle, an older man approaches Amara with a warm smile.
" Jefa ," he greets her with obvious affection. "Your uncle is inside."
Amara embraces him briefly—clearly someone she's known for years—before we're led into the building.
The interior has been converted into a meeting space.
Expensive rugs cover the concrete floor, leather chairs arranged around a massive wooden table.
It's not something you’d ever expect—being in an abandoned setting, but that's probably the point.
And standing by the window, hands clasped behind his back, is Alejandro Ramirez.
Silver hair swept back from a face that's aged well, sharp eyes that miss nothing, wearing a simple but obviously expensive suit.
This is a man who doesn't need to posture or threaten.
His power is absolute, unquestioned.
" Mi ahijada ," he says warmly, turning from the window.
Imani crosses to him immediately, and I watch the transformation.
The controlled cartel princess becomes a god-daughter greeting a beloved uncle, falling into his embrace naturally.
" Padrino ," she murmurs against his shoulder.
They speak rapidly in Spanish for a moment—too fast for me to follow—before Alejandro pulls back to study her face.
"You look thin," he observes. "And tired."
"It's been a difficult week," she admits.
"So I understand." His eyes shift to me, and I feel the weight of his assessment. "And this is the man who's been protecting you."
It's not a question.
Imani glances back at me. "Brick, meet my godfather, Alejandro Ramirez."
I step forward, offering my hand. "Sir."
His handshake is firm, his gaze direct. "Amara speaks highly of you. Says you took three bullets protecting my goddaughter."
"Would have taken more if necessary," I reply honestly.
Something flickers in his eyes—approval, maybe.
"Sit," he commands, gesturing to the chairs. "We have much to discuss."
Once we're seated, coffee appears—strong and black, served by silent men who disappear as quickly as they came.
"Tell me everything," Alejandro says to Imani. "From the beginning."
She does, laying out the entire situation like we’re actually reliving it.
The investigation into the trafficking ring, Diego's betrayal, the assassination attempts, our journey to Chihuahua.
Alejandro listens without interrupting, his expression growing darker with each detail.
When she finishes, silence fills the room.
"Diego Silva," Alejandro says finally, and the way he says the name makes it sound like a curse. "I remember when your mother first brought him in. Young, eager, desperate to prove himself."
"He proved himself," Imani says bitterly. "For twenty years."
"The long con," Alejandro agrees. "The most dangerous kind." He turns to Amara. "What have your people learned?"
"Diego's working directly with the trafficking ring," Amara reports. "Has been for at least six months, possibly longer. They promised him control of the Torres operations in exchange for Imani. Personally, I’m looking for connections between him and Sally Bernanrd, because I know they’re there. Everything else lines up too perfectly."
"And Mateo?"
"Alive, but location unknown. Diego's using him as leverage to legitimize the takeover. Making it look like a sanctioned transition of power."
Alejandro's jaw tightens. "Mateo Torres is many things, but he would never hand his empire to that rata ."
"Some of the lieutenants don't know that," Imani points out. "Diego's been Papá's right hand for so long, they might believe it."
"Then we need to act quickly." Alejandro stands, pacing to the window. "This auction you're planning to infiltrate—it's connected?"
"We believe so," I speak up. "Same organization that has Lashes likely arranged Diego's deal."
"And you think Mateo's location might be discoverable through them?"
"It's possible," Amara confirms. "These groups maintain detailed records—blackmail material, leverage on their partners. If Diego's working with them..."
"They'll have information on where he's keeping Mateo," Alejandro finishes. "It's sound reasoning."
He returns to his seat, leaning back thoughtfully.
"I'll provide additional resources. Men who can be trusted absolutely. Diego may have corrupted some of the Torres soldiers, but my people remain clean."
" Padrino ," Imani starts, but he holds up a hand.
"This is not negotiable. You're my goddaughter. Mateo is... complicated, but he's still familia. And Diego?" His eyes go cold. "Diego will learn what happens to those who betray that bond."
The promise of violence in his voice is absolute.
"For now, we continue with your plan," he continues. "The auction provides opportunity. But you'll have my men as additional backup."
"Too many cooks," Dante speaks for the first time. "Could compromise the operation."
"Not inside," Alejandro clarifies. "But nearby. Insurance, if things go badly."
It's a reasonable compromise, and I can see Amara thinking about the benefits.
"Agreed," she says finally.
"Good." Alejandro's attention returns to me. "You understand what you're protecting, young man?"
The question has layers I'm still unpacking.
"Yes, sir."
"Do you?" He leans forward. "Imani is not just my goddaughter. She's the future of the Torres organization. The bridge between old ways and new. Her mother's dream made flesh."
"I understand," I reply, meeting his gaze steadily.
"I hope so." He turns to Imani. "Your father would be proud. Walking into danger to save him, just as he's done for you so many times."
"He's going to lecture me for hours when we get him back," Imani says with a weak smile.
"Let him," Alejandro replies warmly. "It means he's alive to do so."
The meeting continues for another hour, discussing everything we need to pull this off.
By the time we're ready to leave, the sun is high overhead, baking the desert.
Alejandro embraces Imani again, whispering something in Spanish that makes her nod firmly.
Then, surprisingly, he offers me his hand.
"Keep her safe," he says simply.
"With my life," I promise.
He nods, apparently satisfied, and we make our exit.
The ride back is quieter, everyone processing what we've learned.
Diego's betrayal runs deeper than we thought, but at least now we have the full resources of the Ramirez cartel behind us.
I mean, we had them before since Amara is his blood, but even more so now. Then again, the stakes are higher, aren’t they?
"You okay?" I ask Imani quietly.
"Getting there," she replies. "It helps knowing Alejandro's involved. He and my father have had their differences, but..."
"Family is family," I finish.
"Exactly."
As we near the clubhouse, my phone buzzes with a text from Boulder:
Ceramic weapons arrived. Ruby wants to go over the medical kit, make sure you have everything you need.
The auction is five days away now.
Five days to prepare for walking into hell.
But now the stakes are even higher—not just Lashes, but Imani's father too.
"We're going to pull this off," Imani says, reading my expression.
"Yeah," I agree. "We are."
Because failure means losing everyone we're trying to save.
And that's not an option I'm willing to accept.