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myckicade · 10 months

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Back Home - Chapter One

Summary: You and Che had been so happy. Everything had almost seemed perfect. You hadn't counted on the bastard up and leaving you. Che's return is even less expected. You've carried on, rebuilt your life, and are enjoying where you're at. It's going to be a fight to see whether Che can fit back into the space he used to occupy, if that space still exists, at all.

A/N: C’mon, now, y’all… You know I couldn't pass this up, series end, or not. I wanted to get two others up first, but, as usual, this one just would not leave me alone! Contains spoilers up until... Well. This is the end of the road, so spoilers for the whole series!

P.S. SPOILERS: I’ve had to fuck about with the timeline a bit, as I have no idea whether Taza’s absence lasted five minutes, or ten years. This show is wonky, that way.

Teaser: It’s been a long time since you’ve found yourself speechless, but here you stand, speechless, and lost, and half-scared of something that doesn’t even exist.

This can’t be real, you tell yourself, the words shaping and forming and dying in your head before they can reach your lips. Your numb, trembling lips. All of you feels like it’s trembling. The cool breeze blowing in from the open door has little to do with the shiver working its way over your skin, much as you’d like to give it the credit right now. You know your face looks like you’ve seen a ghost. It has to. Still, you can’t find it in yourself to scream, or speak, or even sputter out a single sound. It’s been a long time since you’ve found yourself speechless, but here you stand, speechless, and lost, and half-scared of something that doesn’t even exist.

Yet, it does. It exists in the shape of six-odd feet of handsome, half-slouching, complete asshole of a man standing on your front steps. The two of you have been staring at one another for entirely too long, since the moment he showed his face, and spoke your name. It was – and still is – pathetic, how easily the sound of his voice made you weak in the knees.

Oh, this asshole.

“How’d you get this address?” comes flying out of your mouth so suddenly, it takes you a moment to realize that you’re actually the one who said it. You watch as Che, seemingly just as startled as you, shifts on his feet.

“I went by your old apartment,” he admits, finally breaking eye contact to glance down at his boots. “New tenant seemed to know you? She told me where you’d moved to.”

“Fucking Diane,” you sigh, glancing over Che’s head to take in a quick glimpse of the stars. You have a fabulous view of the night sky from here, much better than you ever could have hoped for at your apartment. He’s never seen this, you consider. Not from here. Not like he was supposed to. Che moves, barely a step to the side, bringing your attention back to him. “It’s been a year, Che.” Your tone is firm, probably a little harder than is strictly necessary, but you’ve practiced this. Sure, you may never have expected to see this rotten motherfucker ever again, but you’ve prepared yourself for the scant possibility that you’d one day get the chance to toss him back out on his ass.

The nerve. The fucking balls this bastard has, right now.

Che blows out a breath. “I know,” he agrees, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket. His eyes are on you once more, a hesitance in them that shines against the light of the porch. You wait a beat, then two, and by five it’s clear he isn’t going to continue.

“That’s it?” you scoff. “You know?”

“I can leave, if you’d like?” It’s a genuine offer, you can tell. It’s not a threat. There’s no intentional manipulation in the letters. But then, there wouldn’t be. Che’s never been that type of man, certainly not to you. He’s honest, and decent, and devoted, and you need to stop before you remember every reason why you love him.

Before you lose sight of every reason to choke him with your bare hands and start caving into every desire you still have to wrap your arms around him, and never let him go.

Fuck. Angel is right. You’ve gotta’ get out of that book club.

Focusing back in on the matter at-hand (so to speak), you have two options before you. This is a man you haven’t heard from in more than a year. So much has changed. You’ve changed. He surely has, as well. It’s probably a bad, bad idea to do anything other than turn him away.

On the other hand… Well… You’ve missed him so damned much, and the idea of watching him drive away for good – again – already has your eyes welling up with tears. Fuck, you really can’t do it, can you? How fucking pathetic. You need, need, need to stick to your guns. Tell him he’s lost his chance. Tell him things are different now. Anything, anything to make sure you don’t weaken in the face of this choice.

But… Aside from this, this one big, huge thing, he’s never done a damned thing to upset you. To hurt you. The two of you have always played it straight in your relationship, all the cards on the table, full-tilt, no stops, feel free to pass GO! and keep on driving. You’ve thought about this more than once (twice, ten times and better), wondered exactly what in the world could have been so bad, so terrible, that Che had felt the need to run, instead of facing it head-on with you. Stepping out on you has crossed your mind. A late-in-life crisis of some kind. And the ugly possibility that you’ve never really known the man you’ve been in love with. For all you know, Che wants to tell you about the secret family he’s been keeping in Modesto. Wife and kids. Husband and kids. Do you really want to know?

Glancing up, you find Che shifting around again, two seconds from backing off the steps, and down the driveway to his bike. Whether on impulse, or by some crazy ass design, you make your decision. “Sit down,” you instruct, pointing to a patio table and two chairs set up at the corner of the porch. “I’ll be right back.” He nods, clearly surprised, all over again. You nod once, yourself, before disappearing into the kitchen.

What are you doing?

Reaching into the refrigerator, you retrieve two cold beers. You have the feeling you’re going to need one.

What the fuck are you doing, (y/n)?

You turn back from the door and pause. Would liquor be more suitable for this conversation? Might send the signal that this meeting is far more friendly than it has right to be. Giving Che false hope is something you would rather avoid, and a night of drinking liquor has never not led you two to the bedroom.

Decisions, decisions.

You shouldn’t be doing this, at all. No good can possibly come from it. Who’s to say the man outside is even looking for signs of hope? Two minutes ago, he was ready to ride off into the night, no questions asked. Can’t be he’s really too eager to apologize, right? He had that chance, and all you got was, I know. The fuck are you supposed to do with that?

Groaning, you shift both beers to the bend of your left arm and retrieve a bottle of Jose Cuervo from the cupboard with your right hand. It takes some maneuvering, but you finally make your way back out to the porch, balancing the beers, the liquor, and two shot glasses in your arms. Che immediately jumps up from his seat to help you, relieving you of the bottle and glasses, and you find yourself thanking him, as always.

“Thanks, babe.”

“Welcome, doll.”

Neither of you seem to know what to say for a hot second, staring at one another from across the table like two deer caught in cross traffic. You can feel your face growing warm, thankful for the dim glow of the Christmas lights you’ve left strung on the porch since early last November. They’re clear, warm and cool shades of white, with the ability to twinkle, and flash, and induce seizures on the right settings. Angel keeps telling you to take them down. (”It’s July, for fuck’s sake!”). Che has yet to comment on them, but you know he has already formed an opinion, which likely mirrors Angel’s, but with kinder, more considerate wording.

Clearing your throat, you take the seat closest to the door, where Che has chosen to box himself into a corner. He can hop the railing if he needs to make a clean getaway, but strategically speaking, it’s not the smartest move he’s ever made. Still, you pass him a beer, before setting up the shot glasses. Che reaches for the tequila and pours you each a shot. Smooth. Simple. Familiar. Something clenches in your chest.

“So,” Che begins, lifting up his glass. He looks your way, expectantly, until you do the same. He gives you an awkward half-smile, before you both down your shots. Fuck. It’s good stuff, but that first one tends to hit you where you live. “How have you been?”

Really? That’s his starter?

And, wow, it seems like you aren’t going to like any of his attempts tonight, huh?

Cracking open the can in front of you, you shrug. “Busy, I guess?” Another shrug quickly follows the first. “Had a lot on my plate, for a while. Opening the new store. Buying the house.”

Che thumbs at the lip of his can, not yet opening it. “I heard about that. Finally went ahead with it, huh?”

“I did,” you reply, around a sip of Labatt. “Brick and mortar, this time. No more working out of the apartment or driving around town making deliveries.” You look over and find a warm smile waiting for you.

“I’m proud of you,” Che murmurs, all sincerity and happiness. It’s your stomach’s turn to get all fluttery. “That’s awesome.”

Darting your attention elsewhere, you quickly down another mouthful of beer. It’s too familiar. You’ve said far too much. “How about you?” you ask, upon swallowing. You’re not looking his way. You can’t. This is already going all wrong. “Been up to anything fun?” Silence reigns for a moment. It’s unsettling, but you manage to bring yourself to look up again. Che is staring at you, all traces of his smile gone. In its place, an expression you cannot name. It’s almost sad, but not quite. A touch guilty, but not completely. You don’t like it, this look he’s sending your way, panic seizing you enough to blurt out, “I see you’ve cut your hair, again.”

“Don’t do that,” Che replies, almost immediately. His tone catches you by surprise, so low and serious you feel another shiver building at the base of your spine.

“Don’t do what?”

Che blinks, just once. “Don’t try to act like everything’s okay,” he continues. “We both know it isn’t.” That shiver climbs a little higher. True and fair though that is, it’s the only way you’re going to get through this. Cool indifference, at its finest. “While I appreciate not being greeted with a toaster upside the head, I don’t appreciate the passive attitude.”

Damn. Talk about caught.

“Got rid of the toaster,” you mumble after a moment, brushing imaginary debris from your pant leg. “I’m up to an air fryer now.” A laugh breaks free from Che’s mouth, and you fight the smile creeping across your lips in response. You’ve missed that sound so damned much.

You’ve missed him so damned much. The way he talks, low and smooth like the finest honey. The way he looks at you, heart in his eyes, like you mean the world to him, ten times over. You never expected to lay eyes on him again, let alone to have the chance to spill out everything you’ve spent endless hours grumbling about to yourself. Practicing in your head. The ugly words you’ve wanted to throw at him, and the calm manner in which you’ve wanted to deliver them. Now is that chance, and...

And the words won’t jump off your tongue.

“You’re allowed to be pissed,” Che continues, unknowingly encouraging you toward letting him have it with both barrels. “Hell, I’d be shocked if you weren’t.”

You sigh, deep and heavy. “I didn’t know what to be, for a while,” you admit, fiddling with the various rings on your fingers. Your right thumb brushes over the circle of silver on your left index finger. A medium sized band, with citrine stones embedded in the surface, and engraved, Love, Che. Even after everything, you haven’t found it in yourself to take it off. Tuck it away somewhere. Toss is out. You should have. You’d still have every right to do it, too. You just...

Can’t.

The silence must be getting to him, because Che is suddenly asking, “How are the kids?” Oh, boy. Now, here is where you’d really enjoy giving the man what for. Your poor babies. You could keep your calm for what you have been through, yourself, but your babies? You’ve been silent too long, again, it seems, from Che’s worried call of “(Y/n)? Are they okay?”

“Flint looked for you, every damned day.” There. Now it’s out in the open. You catch Che’s flinch from the corner of your eye, a smug sense of satisfaction coming over you at the sight. “It was a fight to get him to eat for about a week, he was so upset.” Flint, your old boy, had become Che’s little buddy over your time together. They’d go for rides in the truck together. Have naps on the couch like the two grandpas you’d joked they were. Walk together. Eat together, as far as Che sharing food from his plate. While your dogs are hardly Che’s responsibility, watching Flint suffer through that pain still sits with you like an open wound. Even now, the tears are gathering at your eyes.

“I never meant to-”

“Max destroyed some of your clothes,” you interrupt, not wanting to hear his bullshit until you’re done. If your feelings don’t come out now, they never will. “Two pair of pants, some socks, and your brown boots.” You pause, clearing your throat. “Wasn’t a full day after you’d gone. I think she knew.”

Che grimaces. “Girl always liked to tear my shit apart.” He sighs. “Not that I blame her.”

“I don’t, either.” You shrug. “I had enough respect for you not to go batshit on the stuff you left behind, and I packed everything away after I caught Max in the act, but the temptation existed.” Reaching out, you pour another shot of tequila for Che, and one for yourself, which you promptly swallow. He doesn’t touch his. “You left just about everything, too, I know you realize.”

“Kinda’ hard to cram my life in a backpack and saddlebags.” He leans forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, hands folded together in front of his face. He’s quiet for a moment, before bowing his head. “You know... I don’t wanna’ sit here and make excuses, and I’m not going to. I know what I did, and it was a dick move, and telling you ‘I’m sorry’ just isn’t gonna’ cut it.”

Finally, you fully look at the man beside you. It’s the first time he’s said those words tonight, even if they were only uttered to make a point. He’s right. No apology is going to cut it, not now. Words are just fucking words, something you’ve had to come to grips with over the last year. Actions are what matter, isn’t that what you two have always agreed on? He took off. Up and left you holding the bag on so much emotional shit, you’re still digging out from the avalanche.

But... He’s here now. That’s action, too. How much does that count for?

Shaking your head, a bit, you try to focus back in. Too many questions, too many possibilities, and too much familiarity are invading your mind. There is something far more pressing to begin with, prompting you to turn your body in your chair, so that you can give Che your full attention. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Che looks at you for a moment, relief in his eyes. “Yeah,” he murmurs, before nudging the tequila bottle closer to you. “You’re gonna’ want more of that while I do.”

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#Che Taza Romero #Taza Romero #Che Romero #Che x Reader #Taza x Reader #Taza Romero x Reader #Che Romero x Reader #Che Taza Romero x Reader #Mayans MC #Mayans #Mayans M.C.#Mayans M.C. Spoilers #Mayans Spoilers #Mayans MC Spoilers #Mayans MC Fanfiction #Mayans MC Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fanfic

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abbatoirablaze · 2 years

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Living Off The Land, Taza

Word Count: 452

Warnings: none really.

Taza sat on an old tree stump, watching as you absorbed the wilderness around you, admiring the little things; like how the sun was setting amidst the desert, or how he found the spot that you two were camped out at. You looked wondrously at every little thing. He smiled as you asked about the flowers, or small plants that somehow managed to thrive in the Californian desert.

“Little flower, you are very curious,” he chuckled, taking a drag on his cigarette, “this really is like a camping trip to you, isn’t it?”

Your smile lit up his world, sending shocks through every fiber of his being, “is that such a bad thing? You’re teaching me to live off the grid with you, right?”

“That I am.”

“Then let us live!”

His heart warmed as you stalked towards him, before finally landing on his lap. His arms wrapped protectively around you, and you gazed down towards the fire that started to light up the surrounding area while the sun began to set.

You were sucked into the call of the nature, and he didn’t want to bother you, but the frown that peaked onto your lips made his heart whimper. He began to rock the two of you gently, humming a song that he remembered from his childhood. Your frown settled on your face, and he could see that you were lost in your thoughts.

You glared at the flames.

“What is wrong, little flower?”

“It’s nothing…I just…”

“Look at me, my love,” he asked softly, “tell me that while looking at me.”

Your attention turned towards him with razor speed and accuracy. He frowned when he noticed your eyes glossy with tears, “what if he changes his mind, Taza?”

This time it was his turn to frown, “Bishop wouldn’t change his mind, sweetheart. We got nothing to worry about. We’re living off the land for a reason. He gave me his word that we would be left alone.”

Your hand stroked his cheek, and you felt a tugging in your chest, “but what if he does break his word? You’re done with the club. You’re done fighting. Do you even have a gun anymore?”

He shook his head, “I don’t need a gun to kill, little flower. But this is all stuff that you shouldn’t concern yourself with. We’ll be fine...”

“But how do you know that?”

“I just do,” he said simply, his arms tightening around your waist. Your eyes met again when he saw the slightest bump in your shirt. His grip loosened and his hand rubbed over your stomach, “trust me…I won’t let anyone hurt my little flowers. I would protect the two of you with my life.”

#mayans #mayans mc #mayans fx #taza #taza romero #che romero #motorcycle #motorcycle clubs #mc

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tulijaa · 2 years

Photo

#Mayans MC #obispo losa #bishop losa #taza romero #che romero #michael irby

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mysoulisasunflower · 8 months

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✨Best Idea Ever✨

Mayans MC | 1.4 "Bat/Zotz"

#I fucking love Taza’s reaction #he already knows it’s a shitty idea but he wants to have fun 🤣#che taza romero #taza romero #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes #raoul trujillo #jd pardo #mayans mc #mayans #mayans fx #gif #my post

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broiderie · 3 months

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Curiosity...

Alright Mayans M.C. fans. Here's my question. Who do you think is the worst villain in the show? Which person just... pisses you off by coming on screen. I know mine. Just wondering how close I am with everyone else's ideas.

#mayans mc #che taza romero #hank loza #marcus alvarez #angel reyes #ez reyes #neron creeper vargas #creeper #johnny coco cruz #coco cruz #gilly lopez #gilly mayans #bishop losa #michael ariza #miguel galindo #mayans fx #mayans

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dallianceangel · 4 months

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𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐀 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 😭👻

I might make this into a longer fic, so let me know if that's something you'd like to read. 💗

🎄 comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated 🎄

“We need to get out of here, and fast.”

You look at Taza in confusion as he snatches the cloth and disinfectant spray from you, guiding you out of the clubhouse, under the cover of darkness. This isn't the time for asking questions, but that doesn't stop you.

“Just tell me what's going on, Che!”

Taza covers your mouth with his hand, not wanting your cover to be blown, but it's too late. He's heard you, and seen you.

“Baby girl?”

Happy can't believe his eyes. He thought you were dead. He attended your funeral, he carried your coffin. None of this makes sense.

#sons of anarchy #mayans mc #happy lowman #david labrava #soa #fanfiction #txt #fanfic #drabbles #drabble #happy lowman imagines #che taza romero #taza romero #writer #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr

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sonhosquebrados · 7 months

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Raoul Max Trujillo 😍

#raoul max trujillo #taza romero #che taza romero #mayans mc

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bullet-prooflove · 6 months

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Ben - Che 'Taza' Romero (Drabble)

Tagging: @ficnation @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx

Taza’s in love.

He’s in love with a man called Ben Harrison who works at the community centre as an LGBT counsellor. He knows it’s wrong, that it’s against everything the M.C stands for but he just can’t seem to stop himself.

It’s been twenty-five years since David’s death, since he’s felt the touch of another man. He never thought he’d fall in love again but then Ben had appeared in his life.

Ben with the kind smile and eyes that Taza has just spent hours getting lost in.

Ben whose spends his days helping kids in crisis, building up their confidence and encouraging them to be who they were meant to be.

Ben who is so unapologetically himself that Taza couldn’t help but fall head over heels for the other man.

Beside him Ben stirs, his bare legs entangling with Taza’s as his arm drapes across his chest drawing him closer. His lips ghost over the back of Taza’s neck and it’s a blissful sensation, one that makes him feel safe in a world that has taught him otherwise.

“Don’t leave tonight.” Ben whispers against his skin, his voice gruff from sleep.

Every impulse in Taza is telling him to run, to leave this situation because if any one of his brothers finds out he’s done but his heart outweighs his head, and he finds his fingers entwining with Ben’s as he places the other man’s palm against his heart.

“I’ll stay for a while.” He tells Ben, settling back into the comfort of the other man’s arms. “Just a little while.”

Love Taza? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#che taza romero #taza romero #raoul max trujillo #raoul trujillo #che romero

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drabbles-mc · 8 months

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Degrees of Separation (3)

Taza Romero x M!Reader

Summary: You transferred out of Yuma and into Santo Padre in a last-ditch attempt to outrun old ghosts and old problems. The small charter, located in an even smaller border-town, seemed like the perfect place to try and shake off everything that had happened to you so that you could start over. You were ready to live with your old secrets. But the deeper you get into the charter, the more you realize you may have simply traded in your old secrets for new ones, and this time you wouldn't be going down for them alone.

Chapter Index

Warnings: 18+, language, smoking

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I realize it had been approximately 10000 years since I wrote for Mayans/SOA but I swear I'm still around and kicking. Bringing this story back from the dead after basically a year of not updating it 😂 But it's a longer chapter so I'm gonna pretend that that makes it okay lmao. I've missed writing these two, though. Lord knows I love me a good slow burn. 😌

Mayans Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @paintballkid711 @queenbeered @kelpies-shed @mijagif @amorestevens @garbinge @justreblogginfics @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @littlekittymeow @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @nessamc @withmyteeth @crowfootwrites @winchestershiresauce @frattsparty @fanfic-n-tabulous @justazzi @darqchilddaydreamz @danzer8705 @camelia35 @thanossexual @kishie8 @callmejaye (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

It was a smooth ride back to the clubhouse the next day. There were minimal stops along the way—everyone just wanted to be back home. Between how busy the last couple of days were, and the sun constantly beating down on your back on the return trip, you were exhausted by the time you rolled into the clubhouse lot.

Everyone was hopping off their bikes, the guys in the van piling out, all of you stretching as you tossed your helmets onto your bikes. You looked around, trying to get a feel for what they were all planning on doing. You just wanted to go home and sleep, never mind the fact that it was still probably far too early to go to bed. But if everyone was going to hang around for a bit, you weren’t just going to take off.

You watched as Angel, Gilly, and Coco headed directly for the clubhouse. You were mentally gearing yourself up to follow suit when you heard Taza’s voice coming from behind you. Sometimes it felt like the man could see your plans before you even said or did anything about them.

“The rest of us are going home,” he told you as he stepped so that he was standing next to you.

You didn’t try to dial back your relief. “Yea?”

He laughed. “Yea.” He nodded towards the clubhouse. “They always pull late ones when we get back if everyone is in one piece. You can stay if you want, but,” he shook his head, “the rest of us just want to shower and sleep.”

“Thank god.” You laughed.

You reached into your kutte, pulling out your pack of cigarettes. Placing one between your lips, you grabbed your lighter as well. It took a couple tries, but you finally got it lit, taking a deep inhale and tilting your head back so that when you sighed, the smoke flowed straight up. You felt Taza watching you, and despite the fact that he declined the night before, you still gave him another wordless offer. He chuckled, caving and taking you up on it this time around. He pulled one out of the pack and allowed you to light it for him, watching as you carefully shielded the flame of your lighter from the light breeze threatening to blow it out.

“Do things usually go that smoothly?” you ventured to ask, assuming that if anyone was going to be honest with you, it was Taza.

He nodded, pulling a drag off his cigarette. “Yeah,” smoke flowed out between his lips with each word he spoke, “usually. Not always,” he chuckled knowingly, “but usually.”

You laughed, shrugging. “I could get used to that.”

He arched one eyebrow, clearly curious. “Things not go that smoothly in Yuma?”

You held the smoke in for a beat longer than you usually would before releasing it with a deep sigh. “Not for me.”

Taza studied your expression as you said that, the way that you weren’t looking directly at him as you spoke. Despite that, he could still see the tension in the way that you stood, the way you forced the deep breath out. He wondered if this was going to be the moment when you finally opened up about whatever had gone down in Yuma that made you transfer out. There were usually stories of some kind to accompany why men would shuffle between charters. Or, at the very worst, there were rumors, which while they weren’t ideal it would still give people some sort of an idea as to why the changes were happening. But it had been radio silent with you. Yuma didn’t say much, and you said even less. Truthfully, Taza wasn’t interested in Canche’s version of anything, but it would’ve been better than nothing.

But you still kept it in, whatever thoughts were racing around your mind at the mention of your last charter. Maybe one day down the line you would talk about it, or maybe it was just going to be another thing that got buried in the pile of happenings that you never forgot, but never discussed. If Santo Padre was going to be anything resembling a fresh start, you figured that leaving the past where it belonged was the best course of action. Giving things a voice didn’t always work out for you in the past.

Somehow, even with the overwhelming urge to pry, Taza didn’t say anything more to you about it. He was no stranger to having skeletons that he tried to hide from view. You both stood there, passively tapping the ash from the ends of your cigarettes smoke swirled up around you.

“Those runs are every month?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He nodded, exhaling a stream of smoke. “Least once a month, yeah.” He looked at you, a curious expression on his face. “You want to be put on the rotation?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Hell yeah.” You dropped the last of your cigarette, snubbing it out beneath the toe of your boot. “Felt good to be back on the road again.”

“I’ll let Bishop know,” Taza said, nodding as he got as much as he could out of the cigarette pinned between his fingers.

“Appreciate it.” You smiled as you gave Taza a light clap on the shoulder. “I’m heading out. I’ll see you in a couple days.”

“Sounds good.” He watched as you walked back over to your bike, finally letting the end of his cigarette drop and hit the ground when you clipped your helmet on to drive off.

The next few days were quiet. There were no calls for Templo, and you didn’t have any yard shifts which you were thanking your lucky stars for. You took advantage of the downtime to try and rest, and to put some minor attempts into making your new place feel a little more like home. You’d never been good at the decorating thing, always counting on whoever you were living with to have a stronger knack for it than you. The plants that were struggling in your window sill, and the few picture frames tacked on the wall in your tiny living room were about the extent of your décor. You’d been saying that at some point you were going to have to remedy that, and now some point was here.

Looking around, you weren’t really sure if it made the apartment feel that much more like home. But it at least no longer looked like what would pass for a low-budget motel room. Now, you figured, you were at least in low-budget hotel territory. It was a step in the right direction. For once, you missed having a roommate.

Flopping down onto the couch, you came to the immediate conclusion that the throw pillows were a good purchase. It blew your mind how much a fucking pillow cost, but for all the times you ended up falling asleep on the couch instead of in your bed, you supposed it was a decent investment, and apparently it would brighten up the space, or whatever all those people on the HGTV channel would say.

You were halfway to falling asleep when your phone started buzzing in your pocket. You snapped awake, digging it out and bringing it to your ear without checking to see who was calling. “Yeah?”

“Yo. They called Templo.” EZ was clearly trying not to laugh at the fact that you sounded as tired as you felt. “Bish wants everyone here ASAP.”

You sat up, running your free hand down your face like that would wake you up. “Alright. I’ll be there.”

Luckily you were still in the clothes you’d gone out in before, so getting ready really just meant slipping into your kutte and putting your boots back on. You grabbed your helmet and took off out the door, double-checking to make sure that you’d really locked it.

You weren’t the last to show up to the clubhouse, but even so, there were still a good number of bikes already there when you showed up. You put yours in line with everyone else’s, leaving your gloves and helmet on the seat before making your way over to the clubhouse steps. Before you even opened the door, you could hear some of the chatter coming from inside. No one sounded angry, which was a good sign, but you still had no idea why Bishop had called a meeting.

You made your way over to the bar, never quite sure where else you should go. That was another thing you still had on your list of stuff to figure out. Everyone else seemed to have some sort of a routine, a group that they gravitated towards. You hadn’t found yours yet. Each time you thought about it, you thought about your quick exchange with Angel on the run. For all the ways that the guys like to bust his chops, you couldn’t help but to think that maybe this time he had a point.

Bishop’s voice ringing through the clubhouse cut down any chance for you to think too much more about it. You downed the last of your beer before getting up to head towards the sliding glass door. EZ was tossing your bottle and a few others into the recycling bin behind the bar when Bishop called out for him too.

“You too, prospect.” He nodded towards the room. “Might need your help with something.”

Your expression showed your mixed feelings of impressed and confused. Prospects in Templo didn’t happen often. Again, maybe it was different in Santo Padre, but you knew for a fact that in Yuma the circumstances had to be dire for that to happen. You wondered if there was more going on that you should all be worried about. The way EZ chuckled and shook his head let you know that he saw the confused look on your face. He fell into stride next to you once he came out from behind the bar.

“Least I know I’m not the only one out of the loop on this,” he joked before tossing his phone into the basket.

“What’s this?”

He laughed. “Exactly.”

You listened as Bishop, Taza, and Hank all explained what had been going down in the prisons. They were your drugs. Sure, technically they were Galindo’s, but Mayans were the ones distributing. Your charters were the ones distributing drugs that were making people drop like flies. It was more than just a one-off—it clearly wasn’t user error at this point.

Sitting back silently, you also listened to the plan that they were formulating to get to the bottom of all of it. It sounded a little batshit, to be quite honest. It was all hinging on EZ’s brain. Apparently he had an eidetic memory. You had no reason to believe that that wasn’t true, but you also found it a bit bold to be using it to essentially write off an entire charter as snakes. No one else seemed to share the same reservations, though.

“This doesn’t leave this room,” Bishop said as he looked around at all of you. “Got it?”

Everyone gave their version of yes before Bishop nodded, bringing the gavel down and effectively dismissing everyone. You stood up, pushing your chair back, and were about to start heading out of the room when Bishop spoke up again, this time only saying your name. It sent a tiny jolt of fear down your spine but you fought not to let it show as you turned around to face him and the other two men sitting at the head of the table, the only others who hadn’t gotten up from their chairs.

“Yeah, Pres?” you tried to sound casual enough, hoping it hid your nerves.

He nodded towards the chair that was on the opposite side of Hank, one that brought you to their end of the table. “Sit.”

There was nothing for you to say, so you just waited for the rest of the room to clear out. You temporarily snagged someone else’s seat for the sake of not sitting at nearly the opposite end of the table from Bishop while he spoke to you. You rested your forearms on top of the table, crossing them so that your hands rested by opposite elbows. There was no way for you to know for sure what your expression looked like, but you hoped it was something adjacent to relaxed, maybe even a little confident if you could muster it.

“Settling in alright?” Bishop asked when the room stilled again.

You chuckled out of nerves. “I think so, yeah.” You paused for a beat, looking at his expression, then those of Taza and Hank. It always seemed like everyone had a better game-face than you. “This like, what, a ninety-day eval or something?” you joked lightly.

Taza let out a quiet laugh at that, and it even got a bit of a smile out of Bishop before he replied, “Yeah, pretty much.”

You gave a slow nod, trying to take the temperature of the room. It didn’t feel tense enough for you to think that things were about to go poorly. “Alright. Why don’t you guys tell me how I’m settling in, then.”

Taza smiled, maybe a little more outwardly amused than he should’ve been. “We think you’re settling in alright too.”

“We just need to know if you’re planning on staying,” Hank finally spoke up, “now that you’ve seen what we do here.”

You had no hesitation as you nodded. “I wanna stay. I’m—I’m gonna stay.”

Bishop was studying your face, looking for any crack in any possible façade that you could be putting up. “You’re sure on that?” He saw the way you were about to shoot something back, but the slight lift of his hand from the table stopped you. “I need to make sure my club is fuckin’ steady. You left Yuma. I didn’t ask why—I don’t really give a fuck why, either. I just need to know if you’re gonna wanna leave here too.”

You managed to keep your composure, not wanting to get heated enough to the point where you’d have to get into it all. Instead, you took a deep breath, set your shoulders back, and shook your head. “I’m not planning on leaving.”

There was a long drag of silence. Long enough that if anyone in that room was holding a lie together by a thread it would’ve snapped. You must’ve seemed steady and sure enough for Bishop’s liking, for all of theirs, because everyone in the room relaxed. Except Taza—the one person in the room who hadn’t seemed tense in the first place.

“Good,” Bishop finally said. He snubbed his cigarette out before dropping the act and letting himself smile. “Now we won’t have to do this shit again.” He saw the relief on your face and he just nodded towards the door. “Go on, get outta here.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, immediately getting up and letting yourself out. The usual thrumming of the clubhouse hardly even registered as you quickly made your way through and out the door. You stopped on the deck, just needing fresh air as you braced yourself against the railing.

The creaking of the door opening behind you caused you to turn around. You chuckled and shook your head when you saw it was Taza. “You know that was coming?” you asked.

He chuckled, nodding. “Of course I did.”

“Didn’t think to warn me?”

He shrugged as he leaned on the railing next to you. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

You shook your head, not looking at him but not really looking away from him either. “Bit of a risk, isn’t it?” You turned to look at him only to find him already facing you. “Asking me if I’m gonna stay after going over all that shit with the other charters?”

Taza shook his head. “No risk.”

“No?”

He shrugged. “I had the feeling you weren’t gonna flinch.”

“If I did?”

“We had plans in place for that too.”

“Jesus Christ,” you said with a shake of your head.

He chuckled, clapping you on the back. “Good thing you didn’t flinch, huh?”

“Yeah.” You had to laugh a little. You knew what you were dealing with—at the end of the day it was still an MC. “Real good thing.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #taza romero #che romero #taza romero x reader #taza romero x you #degrees of separation #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans au #x reader #x reader fic

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acervorevolucionario · 1 year

Text

Che Guevara e Camilo Cienfuegos, por Perfecto Romero, 1959.

Che havia trocado sua boina pelo emblemático chapéu de Cienfuegos.

#che guevara #camilo cienfuegos #cuba #1959 #perfecto romero #revolução cubana

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tulijaa · 2 years

Photo

#Mayans MC #taza romero #che romero

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mysoulisasunflower · 1 year

Text

Angel Reyes & Coco Cruz

Mayans MC | 1.2 "Escorpión/Dzec"

#ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #angel reyes #johnny coco cruz #coco cruz #taza romero #che taza romero #gif #mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans

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broiderie · 2 months

Text

Lost Princessa: Meet the Reaper 26

Well don't kill me. Here's part 26. It's a bit of lead up.

Personal note - I'm now on some serious heart medication due to reoccurring heart issues, so I'm a little foggy. Things may be a bit slower than they used to be even though I hoped to stick to my previous posting of about a chapter a week. That's not working out very well. It's taking me longer to get my ideas on paper and then even longer to get them typed. Please be patient with me.

Warnings: cursing (maybe), show level casual illegal activity, Angel being a menace.

Also - don't steal my shit. This is the only place this is posted.

Taza, Hank, Megan and Rex quickly joined the rest of the club inside. “Morning, Poquito, Hank, Taza. You look like you’re going somewhere important,” Bishop greeted them as he claimed a morning hug from Megan. “What’s the plan today?”

Hank smiled ruefully. “Ask la princessa. She’s the one that’s insistent about it.”

Megan, who had moved on to giving Marcus his morning greeting, shot him a look over her good shoulder.

“Really now, Bebita? What’s he mean?” Marcus asked, looking down at her as he hugged her close.

Megan sighed. “We’re going to see the doctor in Santa Madre for an x-ray. I want this sling off so I can have my life back.”

Creeper frowned from the bar stool where he was perched. “Didn’t the rez doctor say no?”

Megan grimaced. “He said not quite, but that was with the plaster cast. The soft cast and the immobilizing sling mean it’s been resting more than it had been. Some progress has to have been made.”

Bishop nodded and sat down at one of the tables with a cup of coffee. “How’s the pain?”

“Honestly - so much better. I haven’t had so much as an aspirin and it just feels achey and stiff,” she assured him.

“How achey?” Bishop asked again.

“More than a post workout ache but less than a set dislocated shoulder ache. I honestly think I’d be fine without the sling for the most part. I can always put it back on if it hurts.” She shrugged her good shoulder.

There was a collective wince from the elders at her description.

“What the hell, Shorty. How’d you know what a dislocated shoulder feels like, huh?” Angel asked, giving her a skeptical look.

“Angel - I rode in rodeos. Not a rider I know who hasn’t dislocated at least one shoulder once. In my event - that was the price of a mistake,” she smiled. “And a small price to pay rather than a broken leg or back.”

“Shit, Ma. And you did that shit for fun?” Coco added, puffing on his cigarette.

“Well, the money was nice too.”

“Holy shit. No wonder you didn’t freak out about the pain.” Coco ashed the cigarette in his hand. “Y’all need someone to ride along?”

“Nah. Thanks, Coco. We’re good, I think. Just a quick run for an x-ray,” Hank assured him as he settled into a chair across the table from Taza.

“Besides- like Creep said - the rez doc didn’t think she was healed enough yet. Good possibility it’s still too early but la princessa is impatient,” Taza said with a grin in Megan’s direction. SHe stuck her tongue out at him.

“Well, we have Angel and EZ doing the Adelita meet today. They’re going South anyway. Might as well go along with you so they don’t have to walk from the desert,” Bishop said. He turned to look at EZ where he was polishing glasses. “Prospect, you better do your memory shit. Poquito could only arrange for the two of you. We’ll hold Templo tonight so everyone gets read in at once.”

EZ nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“And don’t fuck it up,” Hank added.

Taza agreed. “You two fuck up this gun deal… Neither of you can afford it. The club can’t afford it.”

Both brothers nodded solemnly.

It wasn’t even an hour laters that they met at the dress warehouse hatch. By now they had this to a science. EZ carried Rex. The ladder was difficult for Megan on handed, so Hank went first so he could catch her if she slipped. Taza stayed at the top guiding her down as far as he could maintain his balance.

The tunnel itself wasn’t too bad. The terrain was a bit rough, but nothing Megan couldn’t handle with the help of the lights and either Taza or Hank’s guiding hand on her good arm.

THe hatch on the other end, however, was the bane of her existence. The ladder was built for much taller men so the rungs were further apart and roughly built. They weren’t evenly spaced either. When they reached it Megan sighed. She had slipped every time at this end.

“What’s wrong, Princessa?” EZ asked. “Need a break?” He handed her a bottle of water from the backpack he was carrying.

Megan shot him a rueful smile and sipped it. “More like an elevator. I hate this ladder.”

Taza grimaced. “We’ll get a new one soon, Chica. Just gotta deal until then.”

Angel eyed the ladder. “Bet me and the boyscout could get you up it easier.”

Hank frowned a bit and tugged Megan to rest against his chest a moment. “What do you mean, Angel?”

“We got Creep up it pretty easy when he needed the doc. Megan’s a lot smaller.” Angel shrugged. “Same way we used to get shit into the attic for Pops.”

EZ broke into a wide grin. “You might be right.”

Taza shrugged a bit as he glanced at Megan. “What do you say, Chica? Want to let them try it?”

Megan eyed the hated ladder, before turning to eye the brothers. “Promise not to drop me?”

Angel gave a sardonic laugh. “And risk getting shot? We won’t drop you, Shorty.”

“Alright then. How’re we doing this?” she asked.

Angel grinned. “Taza, you and EZ go first. Once you’re up, EZ lays on the floor to lift la princessa with Taza to anchor him. Megan gets on my shoulder an’ EZ pulls her out. Simple. Reyes Brothers Elevator.”

Hank chuckled and shook his head, amazed at the simplicity of it. “I’ll help steady you, mi amore. This way you don’t risk falling like yesterday.” The day before, Megan had been lucky Hank was behind her for the ladder. He’d had to catch her twice.

Just like Angel outlined, Taza and EZ went first with EZ carrying Rex. Taza paid the toll while the prospect laid down and hung his top half through the hatch. Taza anchored his legs as Hank helped Angel get Megan onto his shoulders and steadied her as he stood. Then EZ locked his arm and pulled Megan up until Taza could help her out of the hatch. In the end, EZ was breathing a little heavy, but the near disaster of the day before had been averted. Angel and Hank then climbed up to join them.

“Thanks Angel and EZ. That was much easier on my end,” Megan said, smiling at the brothers.

Angel gave a slightly cocky grin. “Anything for la princessa de los Mayas, right Prospect?”

EZ laughed a little and straightened his kutte. “Right.”

Once they reached the town, Angel and EZ dropped them off at the storefront where the doctor kept an office upstairs and headed out to the coordinates Luisa had sent to the burner phone in Angel’s pocket.

“Alright, Chica. Let’s go get this x-ray and find out how you’re doing. After, we can go find something to do until Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum get back,” Taza said with a grin.

Hank led the way up the narrow stairs and paused at the top to smile back at Megan. “You ready, mi amore?”

Megan smiled a little nervously. “You’ll stay with me?”

“Of course, Princessa.” He chuckled a little. “We’d have to anyway - Doc doesn’t speak English.”

Inside, Taza spoke with a man quietly in Spanish as Megan leaned into Hank’s side. The conversation wasn’t very long before the man smiled at Megan and waved her forward.

Megan turned to look at Taza.

“He just wants to take the sling off and feel for the break before he x-rays you, Chica,” Taza assured her.

Hank guided her forward and worked the sling straps on her back to release them. Once the sling was off, he sat her on the narrow wooden table while holding her good hand.

The doctor approached with his hands held calmingly out in front of him. He gently pressed along her collarbone. He looked at Hank and asked something.

“Mi reina, he wants to know if it hurts when he touches it,” Hank translated.

“No. It’s a little achey, but that’s just the stiffness I think,” Megan said.

The doctor nodded as Taza translated what was said. He gestured for Hank to step away from Megan and rolled a camera looking machine in front of her before holding a metal panel behind her shoulder. Megan fought the urge to giggle as she realized that the x-ray machine was a portable vet tool.

The doctor took the shots that he needed before indicating that he’d be back in a moment.

As soon as he was out of the room, Megan lost the battle with her giggles. Both men grinned at her.

“What’s so funny, Chica?” Taza asked, amused at her reaction to this doctor. He had expected nerves or even some defiance like he’d seen the other times doctors had looked at her.

“Papa, he’s not a doctor, is he? He’s a vet,” Megan bit her lip to stifle her laugh.

Hank burst out laughing while Taza stared at her for a moment before joining in.

“How’d you know, Princessa?” Hank asked as he moved to support her still splinted arm through her laughing fit.

“The x-ray machine gave it away. And he wasn’t exactly concerned that he couldn’t talk to me directly. Plus - he came at me like I was going to cow kick him if he surprised me.”

Taza laughed again. “You’re right. He’s a farm vet. We didn’t want to scare you with him not being a ‘real’ doctor, so we just didn’t say anything.”

Megan smiled mischievously. “Well - for future reference - I’d much rather the vet than the hospital any day.”

An hour or so later they were walking down the narrow steps to the street level again with Megan’s sling tucked into a bag. The doctor had given the go ahead to remove the sling as long as she wasn’t using her arm too much and there wasn’t a lot of pain. He’s also provided Hank with a refill of the ibuprofen - just in case.

Once on the street, they decided to head to a small restaurant down the street to wait for the Reyes brothers and have lunch.

Taza ordered for them at the counter while Hank and Megan found a table in a spot where they could see the door. Megan kept rolling her right shoulder until Hank gently rubbed his hand down her spine and across her shoulders. “Are you alright, mi reina?” he asked her as he did it.

Megan gave a soft groan of relief as Hank rubbed. Hank chuckled at the noise as she answered. “I’m fine. Just stiff.” She paused, arching her back into his rubbing hand. “That feels so good.”

Hank laughed again and scooted his chair back from the table. “Come ‘ere, Princessa. Let me help.” He tugged her to sit in his lap facing him and leaned her forward against his chest so he could gently rub the knots from her back that the sling caused.

Megan melted against him as the firm pressure released her muscles even through her kutte and holster.

Hank grinned as Taza came to the table with two trays of food and drinks. His smile assured Taza that nothing was seriously wrong.

Taza placed the trays on the table and took his seat across from her. “Everything alright?” he asked quietly.

Megan nodded from where her face was buried in between Hank’s neck and shoulder but made no move to get up. She let out another quiet moan that only Hank could hear as he hit a particularly nice spot.

Hank chuckled again and tried not to think about it too much. He liked that noise. He met Taza’s eyes. “Yeah. She’s just stiff and her back muscles are in knots from the sling.

Taza laughed a little. “So that’s why she’s practically purring.”

Hank grinned. He tilted his chin to kiss Megan’s hair. “Your papa brought lunch. You ready to eat?” he asked her.

Megan whined a little, but nodded before lifting her head. Hank helped her to settle back into her chair with a laugh. “A hot shower when we get home will help, mi amore.”f

As they ate, they made plans for the rest of the day. They had Templo when they got back to discuss the deal with the L.O. but after that no plans had been made.

“Well, your tíos and I need to meet after Templo to do some book work, so I’ll be tied up for the night. What are your plans, Chica?” Taza asked as he discreetly added more rice to Megan’s plate while she was distracted.

“Don’t know. I need to let Riz know to put me back on the schedule since the sling is off, but I also know that he’s already got this week’s schedule posted. I looked this morning,” Megan said as she ate the taco she'd fixed from the communal plates Taza had ordered them. “Will you be in meetings too, Hank?”

Hank sipped his soda and shook his head. “Nah. All my book stuff is done for the next two weeks.” He leaned back in his chair and slid his arm along the back of Megan’s. “Now that your sling’s off - would you want to do something tonight?”

Megan’s eyes sparkled. “Like a date?”

Hank laughed. “Yes. Like an actual date, mi princessa. Nothing too fancy, but a date.”

Megan bounced a little in her chair. “Yes!”

Taza grinned at her enthusiasm. “There we go. I’ll be home late too, so don’t wait up for me.”

“Would you keep Rex for the night?” Hank asked, petting the big dog’s ears under the table. “I thought we might take the bike.”

Megan lit up further “Really?”

“If your papa doesn’t mind.”

Megan turned to him with her big, brown eyes pleading.

“Yes. I’ll keep the pooch - if you promise to stay with Hank, Chica. I like you having him as an extra line of defense when you’re out, so you have to promise not to do anything stupid,” Taza stipulated.

“I promise, Papa.”

“Alright then. You two will have date night while the pooch and I work late.”

Hank’s burner beeped from his kutte pocket. He pulled it out and checked it without removing his arm from Megan’s chair. “Angel and the Prospect are back in town.”

“Perfect timing. Let’s go home.”

They met the brothers back where they’d split up. Angel quickly abandoned the driver's seat to Taza and Megan got shotgun with Hank behind her.

At the hatch, this time Taza went first followed by Megan. It was much easier without the sling. She managed to slip once, but caught herself. Once they were at the bottom, EZ frowned at the ladder. “That thing really does need fixed. La Princessa shouldn’t have to struggle with it every time. Especially since she’s going to be dealing with this trip a lot as the armorer,” he said.

“Glad you volunteer, Prospect,” Hank agreed. “You can start on it tomorrow.”

Megan giggled a little as she caught her breath in the close confines of the tunnel but petting Rex.

“You good, Shorty? Didn’t bust nothin’ when you slipped, did ya?” Angel asked.

Megan stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m fine. Just missed a rung.”

“Alright. Just checkin’. No harm in that,” Angel grinned a bit. “Hey Boyscout - maybe you need to use that big brain of yours to figure out a lift, huh? That way la princessa doesn’t break a nail.”

Megan smacked Angel in the chest with the back of her good hand and laughed. “You suck, Angel.”

“That’s why the women love me.”

Megan wrinkled her nose. “Eeewwww. TMI.”

Angel cracked up. “You asked for it.”

Taza shook his head with an exasperated chuckle and shoved Angel forward along the tunnel. “Get going before you scar my daughter for life.”

They made their way back to the Northern hatch where they all climbed out into the dress warehouse with EZ helping to lift Rex through the door. They were all a little dusty, but none the worse for wear.

Back at the clubhouse, Megan proudly walked in without her sling to find Bishop and Marcus relaxing at a table with a few beers.

“Well look at you, Poquito. Doctor freed you?” Bishop asked, standing to claim a hug.

Megan stepped into his embrace with a smile. “Still gotta wear the soft cast and be easy with it, but he cleared me to lose the sling.”

“Good. That’ll make dance lessons easier,” Marcus said as he got his own hug,

“Among other things,” Megan agreed.

“Is everyone here?” Hank asked.

“Waiting on Riz. He went to help Vickie with something,” Bishop said, taking his seat back.

Taza and Hank joined them as Angel split off to the bar where Coco and Gilly were waiting. EZ went to fetch drinks automatically as Hank pulled Megan onto his knee.

“He needs to hurry up. La Princessa and her caballero have a date tonight,” Taza said, accepting the beer from EZ.

Marcus grinned. “Finally going to take Poquito somewhere, Tranq?”

Hank grinned. “That’s the plan if nothing fucking it up this time.”

Bishop looked over his shoulder at where Angel was sipping on his own beer. “We’ll be fine for one night, brother. Take Poquito out tonight. If shit hits the fan - it can wait until tomorrow for you.” He grinned. “Now, that being said - you have planning to do. So get to it. Poquito - did the doctor say when the soft cast can come off?”

Hank chuckled and pressed a kiss to the place where Megan’s neck met her shoulder before sliding out from in under her. He watched as Megan settled into his seat and got distracted by her tío’s question before slipping out to the front porch.

Megan smiled at Bishop. “Tío, why’re you asking me? You know very well the doctor doesn’t speak English.”

Bishop laughed and nodded. “You’re right. You’re right. So what did your papa tell you he said?”

“Still another three weeks or so - as long as I don’t do anything stupid. I kind of think Papa added that part on though,” Megan teased.

Taza laughed. “I paraphrased. That’s all Chica.”

They chatted amicably for a bit before Angel came over to ask to speak to Bishop and Taza alone for a minute in Templo. That left Megan with Marcus.

“Have you heard anything from Tía Diana and Tessa?” Megan asked. “I haven’t heard much since they left.”

Marcus sat forward at the table to smile at her. He leaned his forearms there and smiled. “Yeah. I heard from them at about lunch time. They’re probably still on the road though. Tessa doesn’t have much patience for car rides, so Diana will stop often to let her stretch.” He fiddled with his beer bottle a bit. “I talked to your tía about the move. She agrees that it’s probably best for everyone if I pause my patch for a bit.”

Megan reached across the table to squeeze his fingers. “And you? What do you think?”

He squeezed back before meeting her eyes. “I think she’s right. It makes the most sense, Bebita.”

“Then why the hesitation?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know who I am without this kutte, Poquito. I’ve been wearing it so long it’s practically my skin at this point.” He sighed. “I’m struggling with letting go.”

“I understand. It’s like leaving rodeo was for me.” She fiddled with his signet ring, “But Tío, you aren’t leaving for good. It’s just like recon.”

He chuckled. “You’re right. We’ll make the call at the Templo after this one. I want to be sure the gun deal is solid first. Besides - this way nothing is on Hank’s mind tonight except you. Finally getting a real date night, huh? You gonna let him show out?”

Megan laughed and sat back. “You mean I could stop him?”

“Good point.”

Bishop and Taza returned with very serious faces. Megan sat up straight in alarm. “Papa? Everything alright?”

“Sí, Chica. Angel just had some information for us.” He pressed a reassuring kiss to the top of her head before resuming his seat. “Your tío is going to take care of it before Templo.”

Bishop nodded and gathered Gilly and Creeper before riding out.

“Anything I need to know, Hermano?” Marcus asked.

Taza shook his head. “Nah. Charter issue.”

Marcus nodded.

When Bishop and the others returned, Bishop’s face was like a thundercloud and Riz was with them. Hank followed them in from the front porch too. Bishop didn’t even have to say anything. He just grabbed the whiskey bottle and a glass and headed for Templo. Everyone followed.

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