23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

Dante and his driver/bodyguard were in the car behind them as they rode to the meeting. The Kinsmen and Blood Nation members agreed to meet together, though they weren't exactly brother clubs like the Devils and Aztecas were.

Kirk rode in front with Eight, Indio rode beside Mal, and the others were behind them. Indio couldn't shake the nerves he had, and he knew why. Too many new things were crowding in on him.

The ride would do him good. If only he'd thought to take a ride before that day, so he could be alone on the open road, no one around to see him struggling with feelings he'd never had any intention of having.

It was enough to have Sel on his mind constantly. That smug little smile of his, the way his mouth felt when Indio kissed him. He'd never in his life seen such a beautiful man. As much as he wanted to hate Selestino Carrillo, he'd found it impossible.

There it was; his mind on fucking Selestino instead of what was ahead of him. That wasn't him! He didn't pine after a guy when he had serious business to do. He had to push Sel out of his head long enough to get his shit together. His club depended on him. Eight, Kirk, and Mal depended on him.

When they got past billings and found the roadside bar up Interstate 94, Kirk pulled off and the others followed. The rumble of the motorcycles as they parked around the cracked pavement made him wrench his thoughts to the present. Eight came over to him after dismounting his bike and pulled him to the side. "You okay? You got this?"

"I got this, hermano . I got this."

Eight smiled at him. "Big day, no?"

Eyes narrowing, he asked, "What you mean?"

"Fucked your guy, now this."

Indio saw Mal's eyes widen behind Eight and he growled, "Fucking hell. He already told everyone?"

"No, mano! We heard your asses."

Indio swallowed his sudden fear as Eight slapped his arm and jerked his head, making Indio turn to see Dante approaching.

"Mums the word, que no ?"

"Yeah," he whispered to Eight, then said to Dante, "Mr. Carillo, hey."

"Are we ready, gentlemen?"

Eight nodded curtly. "We're ready."

Dante walked with Eight and Indio to meet with Kirk and the Devils. Dog shook Indio's hand. "Let's do this, brother."

"Let's do this."

They went into the bar and everyone in the entire place stopped what they were doing, whether it be playing pool or sitting at the bar or tables and lifting their glasses, to stare at them.

Dante was the most casual man he'd ever seen. He nodded to the place and said, "Hello, everyone. Can someone tell us where to meet the people we've come to see?"

There were snarling men and women all around them, men with arms bigger than Dante's chest, but he didn't show a bit of fear, if, indeed, he felt any. Indio doubted he knew what fear was.

One of those brawny men set down his pool stick on the pool table and walked over to him, towering over Dante, who never even blinked. "Who you coming to see?"

Bruno was right behind Dante, ready to pounce, but there was no need. Indio fully believed Dante could charm anyone into submission. "Oh, hello, my friend. We've come to see Emilio Auclair and Steven Moore."

The huge man glanced over his shoulder at someone in the back, and before Indio could locate who he was looking at, he turned back to Dante and nodded. "In the back. I'll take you."

"Very good, thank you."

As they walked through the still-staring crowd, Dante nodded to this person and that, his casual ease calming the tension that had risen in the room.

Indio looked those men in the eye who were eye-fucking him, wondering which one would be the first to make a move. When none did, and they made it into the backroom of the tavern, Indio worried more. Things were going too smoothly. Things never went smoothly.

A long table took up most of the space in the room, and there were six or seven men already sitting on the opposite side of it. Two men were standing, however, and they were the ones that Dante moved to once the door was closed behind them.

"Gentlemen, I'm Dante Carrillo. These are the members of the Devil's Rebels and Aztecas Asesinos. I'll let you all introduce yourselves."

Standing in a line, he and the others he'd traveled with shook hands with the men who'd been in the room beforehand. He introduced himself to all ten of them, then they were invited to sit. Emilio Auclair and Steven Moore sat at either end of the table, and Emilio started the conversation.

He looked a lot like Eight, dark hair and eyes, no beard or facial hair. Eight started shaving his a year before, and most of the rumors were about him trying to look younger.

"We agreed to take this meeting together to make it easier for all involved, but make no mistake, we don't work together."

Dante spoke first. "We understand and appreciate that you've done this for the sake of time. My associates have clubs that moved to Colorado years ago and have made a success of their businesses. Moving up here would be simply to expand on those."

"Right," Steven Moore said. He, too, had black hair, but his skin was red from the sun and his blue eyes were sharp, narrowed. Indio could see he didn't trust them at all.

Kirk spoke for the Devil's first. "I'm here to assure you of it, but us staying to ourselves isn't all that is in it for your clubs. When we separately added chapters to Denver from LA and New Mexico, we saw the money we could make by joining on the marijuana venture. The Aztecas, via Eight, have the means for the growing of it. Together we invested money into the dispensaries. We're selling at a rate of fifteen to one against all the other dispensaries in the area. We'd like to bring that success here."

"The Kinsmen don't sell pot in Montana."

"Neither do the Blood Nations," Emilio added.

"Then we wouldn't be stepping on toes, que no ?" Eight said as he looked around at all of them.

Indio knew he had to speak up to show his leadership. "Whatever you all have going on, we, like Eight said, have no intention of getting involved with. If you'd like to partner on our shit, you make the call, and we'll hash out the details."

"You talk like you're set to move up here, even without our permission."

Dante spoke before anyone else could, and not only Indio was ready to do just that.

"Gentlemen, please, we all can work this out without whipping out our dicks and measuring them. The two clubs are here right now as security for my venture. They'll continue to be that for some time to come. Now, it's a very small area of Montana, tens of thousands of acres, but they'd like to have more members come here, purchase homes, set down a life. That is what we're here to negotiate."

"So, what you're saying is that, then. The two clubs are moving in with or without our permission."

Indio stiffened and Eight, next to him, felt it. He shook his head just enough to let Indio know to chill for the moment as he spoke next. "We're not here asking permission. We're here as a courtesy. We understand your two clubs have run Montana for decades. We respect that. All we want is a little piece of the place, doing our own thing, and we're here to let you know that we have shit to do that you can profit from. If you want."

Indio backed that up by saying, "I'm here for the long haul. I'd like to work with you guys, but I ain't gonna lose sleep if you want to stick to your own shit and let us have ours. We can pass by each other, give a nod and move along."

Dante smiled over at him before he spoke to the men again. "Gentlemen, there are many ventures that can enrich us all. We may need more security than the Devils and Aztecas can provide. We will also look after your families. We don't intend to come here and take over any region that you were making money from without adequate compensation, of course. Whether or not you join us in money making, we'll pay for the territory you might lose, and in turn, you leave these men and my men, the ease to conduct our own businesses how we see fit."

Indio nearly laughed at the slack expressions. There was little to argue with when Dante spoke, and the man knew that. They could turn them down and lose money or jump on board and it would benefit them.

Still, Emilio looked right over at Indio and asked, "You're the new president for Montana, if you move up here?"

"Yeah. I am." He said proudly.

"And you won't eventually want a patch-over?"

Shaking his head, he asked, "From what to what?"

"From Aztecas to Blood Nation. We have Central and South American members."

Eight watched him closely, they all did, but Indio didn't have to think that over for a second. "I'm Azteca. I'm not patching over."

Emilio smiled, which threw him. "Loyal. Okay." To Dante, he turned and asked, "What kind of compensation?"

"Well, I'll buy the territory for my friends, or you can join in our ventures. Which are you more interested?"

Emilio said, "Maybe both. A discount on the territory, and a smaller percentage of the business rights."

Dante smiled warmly. "That would be fine with me." He turned to look at Dog, then Indio, and asked, "Gentlemen?"

Both nodded in agreement. The floor was then to the Kinsmen.

Steven grunted, "Fuck. That shuts me down for protests on their move," he said, then smiled. "I like that deal. We can take that, too."

Dante rose and said, "I'll let the clubs hammer out the details, and the presidents will come to me later with the proposals. Gentlemen, goodbye. It was nice meeting you all."

As Bruno and Dante left the room, the air seemed to shift. Emilio chuckled a bit and said, "He's something."

"Fucking mobsters, dude," Steven commented. "Those clothes."

Eight laughed and the rest of the men followed, and Indio felt all the tension he'd been carrying leave him. He said, "The clothes alone let you know how much money the fucker's got."

"Shit, man," one of the Kinsmen said, "I don't know clothes besides fucking jeans, and I could tell those were worth a mint."

When they got back to the ranch later that night, they met with the other bikers in the basement, and Eight told them the news. Everyone was glad to hear it, and Eight announced he would leave in the morning. "I got three kids driving my old man crazy. I gotta get home, but a couple of boys are coming up, including the prospects, to help you guys out."

"Hopefully, that fucker is caught soon. Prince hasn't caught him on any cameras leaving the state or the country," Kirk said.

"I hate to leave you, but Kale is juggling kids, my folks, his folks, and two dogs. He's ready to divorce me if I don't get home."

"Go," Mal told him. "We've got this. Tell Kale hi for us, you know, after he yells at you for a couple of hours."

Indio talked with the others, then got out a cigar and told them he was headed up to go outside to smoke. Once he was clear of the basement, he set the cigar back in his vest pocket and listened to make sure no one was around before he started quietly up the back stairs.

He got to Sel's bedroom and opened the door a little, but it was dark in the room. Once inside, with the door closed behind him, he went to the bed and, as his eyes adjusted, he saw Sel was sleeping.

He came close to leaving, but then he saw the sheet wrapped around one leg and bare skin dimly glowing in the light coming in from the moon, and he stopped.

The sheet was barely covering his dick, and all Indio had to do was move it just to the left of Sel, and there it was, pretty as a picture. His pretty pale skin and pink dick made Indio's mouth fill with saliva.

Getting undressed, he watched Sel breathing, his chest rising and falling sweetly. He looked so peaceful, but Indio already knew that if he didn't wake Sel, he'd be pouted at the entire next day.

After his clothes were piled on the floor, he climbed into bed with Sel, kissing over his neck until Sel woke giggling. "Tickles!"

"What?"

"Your beard. You need a trim."

"Already trying to change me? I knew it," he teased, kissing Sel's lips.

Sel turned on his side and kissed him chastely. "I was worried. How did it go?"

"Went great. I can't tell you all of it, it's club business, but we'll be getting a clubhouse going up here. A few guys will move here and we'll recruit a few more."

"That's great! I'm glad. Where…will you make the clubhouse?"

"Not here on the ranch," he said, resting his head on his arm. "I hope that isn't where you were going with that question."

"Why do you always think the worst of me? I didn't figure it would be here, but, well, maybe I'm hoping it'll be close. That's all."

Indio had thought this over a few times, and he knew he had to ask before they went any further. "And where will you be? Back in school?"

"Grad school, I guess I'm supposed to start next, but…Indio, I can do a lot online. I want to stay here. At least until I have to take over the family, which could be decades. My dad and uncle aren't exactly old."

That meant he didn't have to leave anytime soon, and that added pressure Indio wasn't ready for.

Knowing his feelings were growing for Sel, his fear outweighed everything. Loving someone had never been in Indio's cards. For him, love brought pain, physical, emotional pain that left deep scars that never healed fully.

"What? Talk to me."

"We're…we're supposed to be fucking, not talking. I'm tired. If we're not fucking, I'm getting dressed and going to bed."

Sel smiled sweetly. "Fine. Let's fuck. We'll…talk some other time."

"Or not."

"Whatever. Just fuck me."

"Now we're talking."