Perversion (Perversion Trilogy #1)(26)

The man needs an excuse to start a conversation like an addict needs access to free heroin.

I pull a beer from the fridge in the garage. The cold, crisp carbonation on my tongue feels like heaven, so I kill the bottle, toss it in the trash and reach for two more. Without looking, I throw one over my shoulder to Sandy, who catches it easily. I could toss a beer out into the yard, and there’s no doubt in my mind that Sandy would be there to catch it.

It's one of his many weird quirks.

“I’m just confused as to why the task force is so focused on us.” Sandy leans against the van and cracks open the beer with the crook of his arm. He takes a long pull. “I’m sure Los Muertos would keep them busier.”

“Really?” I raise an eyebrow. “You have no idea why they’d have their sights set on us?”

Sandy’s eyes widen. He shrugs his shoulders. “Well…didn’t we just agree that we’re not a gang?”

“That’s not exactly what I said.”

I sigh and reach for my phone, pulling up Google. I find what I’m looking for and turn the screen to show Sandy. He snatches the phone from my hand. His lips move, but no words come out as he silently reads.

“No shit,” he says, looking up from the screen. “This can’t be right.” Sandy scratches the side of his head with his beer bottle.

I chug down another half a beer. “It’s right there. That’s the reason why we are on those gang-fuck's radar. Can’t control them like the local cops, so we are going to have to be extra careful moving forward.”

Sandy looks down to the screen again, waving off my concerns. “So, the definition of a gang, according to Google dictionary anyway, defines a gang as an organization of criminals. That’s us. WE are an organization of criminals!” he gasps.

“For someone so smart, the fact that you’re just figuring this shit out now makes me want to give you another IQ test.”

“Marci gave me one last week. As it turns out, I’m still a genius.”

I pluck my phone from his hands and shove it into my back pocket.

“But it still doesn’t make sense to me,” Sandy says, looking downright perplexed with his nose scrunched and his forehead wrinkled.

I try another tactic. Walking over to his van, I pop the trunk hatch and point to the body rolled up in garbage bags. A member of our security team who we found out was really a member of Los Muertos, spying on us so they could steal our trucks. Taking him out wasn’t technically breaking the ceasefire since for all Marco knew, we believed he was one of our own.

“What exactly doesn’t make sense to you?” I ask, looking from the body to Sandy.

Sandy salutes me with his beer. “Touché.”

I close the hatch, then turn to go inside to take a much-needed shower. I have a meeting on the reservation with Chief David at midnight and don’t want to show up smelling like the questionable contents of Cher.

“Go take care of your cargo while that van of yours is still capable. Next time, don’t tow that shit to the fucking house. You breakdown with an unbreathing passenger inside, you call me or one of the boys, and we’ll come to you. Belly would be pissed if he knew there was a corpse in his driveway…again.”

“So moody today,” Sandy says, following me inside. “Where are you going? I have questions. Concerns. Don’t tell me you’re going to lock yourself in your room with your hand on your cock while I’m digging a hole somewhere and mentally suffering over our conversation.”

“Mentally suffering?” I scoff.

“Yes. My mind is already racing. We’re a gang. We need hand signs. Or symbols. Or whatever you call them. There’s a lot to discuss. I mean, should we be jumping people in now? Like, if we do, I think we should start with Haze. That fucker should see what it’s like to be on the receiving end of a good ass kicking every now and again.”

I shake my head and continue walking while Sandy rattles on. “Maybe, we can learn how to be a real gang online. There’s this YouTube channel called Cholos Try. The entire thing is these guys with face tattoos trying things like eating sushi for the first time. I’m sure they’ve made a ‘How to be a real gang’ video at some point. Imma look it up.”

“Fuck off,” I moan. “And go take care of your shit. Text me when it’s done.”

“Why the rush? He’s not going anywhere. Are you expecting company?” he asks, suggestively wagging his eyebrows in a way that both makes me want to laugh and punch his nose to the back of his skull. “Is Corinne coming over again? Nevermind. What was I thinking? No girl’s ever been in your room twice. It probably smells in there. Not like I’d know. I’ve barely ever been inside. You’re probably just going to read back those letters to EJ and pine away well into the night.”

“Sandy,” I warn.

“So touchy. Are you on the rag?”

“Let me know when it’s done,” I call over my shoulder.

“An organized group of criminals,” Sandy repeats to himself. “Fuck, Dictionary.com says we’re a gang, too. Oh, Wait. I forgot to tell you. The boys running security at the casino had to chase down two girls who were running a con on the guests.”

I turn my head. “You get them on camera?”