Miss Crow -{Sons of Anarchy/Mayans}-

27. El Secretario

Walking into the clubhouse two days later, I was ambushed by EZ as soon as I walked through the door.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" inquired the Prospect, approaching me.

"Yeah, sure."

We sat down at one of the tables. EZ reached up to hold the lapels of his kutte, looking at me.

"Who's that man you were with in El Centro? The one rushing you out of the Seven-Eleven."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Why are you asking?"

"I saw him here in Santo Padre a few days later—struck me as odd, considering you told me you were headed to Mexicali."

I nodded slowly. "SAMCRO escort. Took me and my friend to the border. SAMDINO brought us back north a week later."

EZZ stared at me, remaining quiet. A moment later the sliding stained glass door of the Mayan chapel was pulled open, signaling the end of a meeting.

The Prospect was on his feet, heading behind the counter. He retrieved cold beers out of the fridge and set them down on the counter top.

Marcus walked over to the table I was sitting at, taking a seat across from me.

"SAMCRO is coming down for a visit. Club business."

I nodded, noting the majority of the men were looking at me.

"Gun business?" I asked with a sigh.

"Transition is taking a while, but it won't be long now."

"Yeah, I get it."

The guys collected their beers from the counter and settled down around the bar. Bishop grabbed the last remaining beer, opening it. He set the beer down in front of me. I thanked him and picked up the bottle. I proceeded to drain half the bottle, humming in content.

"When's the last time you saw your reaper family?" asked Taza.

"I saw Chibs and Tig about two months ago. We stay in touch." finishing my beer, I got up from the table. "I'll go into town, pick up anything we need for tonight."

"Just booze. EZ put in a meat order."

"Miller and tequila?" I asked with a chuckle.

"You can get Corona, if you want." said Angel, smirking.

"Oh, you know I will."

I stepped out of the clubhouse, bouncing down the creaky stairs. Reaching up, I slipped m aviators over my eyes.

"Hey, I can give you a lift." called Angel, exiting the clubhouse. "I'm headed into town, anyway."

"And how will I get the booze home on a Harley?"

"Call Chucky, he'll pick you up."

 I mulled the thought over, my eyes darting between the row of Harley's and my Tesla. Nodding, I looked at Angel.

"Alright, let's go."

Grinning, he came down the porch steps and led me over to his motorcycle. We stopped next to an emerald bike with matching saddlebags, a tan bedroll, and chrome decals on the side of the gas tank.

Angel picked up the helmet and handed it to me.

"Safety first." he said, straddling the bike.

I put the helmet on, fastening it securely. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I mounted the bike.

"Hold on tight, princesa." instructed Angel.

"This is not my first ride. I used to have my own bike."