Page 1 of Tito

Prologue

The meeting room smelled of testosterone, leather, weak cigarette smoke, and coffee. Eleven officers and two detectives, each dressed in tactical SWAT gear, waited eagerly to hear their orders.

Standing at a lectern in the front of the room, the police captain surveyed the group. As always, he secretly worried of the worst-case scenario unfolding during the mid-morning raid of the outlaw motorcycle club’s building.

“According to intel,” the captain said. “This outlaw motorcycle gang will be armed. I repeat, will be armed. At least one of the patched members is a former special forces vet.”

He lifted a ten-page report from his lectern. “The report filed this morning indicates this OMG has been committing robberies in San Diego County for the past fifteen years. I want these guys off the streets, gentlemen. Furthermore, I want every man in this room to return to their family this evening.” He glanced around the room, taking time to make eye contact with each man. “If you’re met with resistance, do not hesitate. Shoot first, ask questions later.”

One of the two detectives raised his right hand.

The captain gave a curt nod. “Detective Watson?”

“I know this motorcycle club. I know the layout of their clubhouse,” the detective said. “I’ve been in it on more than one occasion, gathering intel. I’d like to volunteer to be first in.”

“Duly noted.” The captain said, lifting his chin slightly. His steel-gray eyes darted from one man to another. “Any objections on Watson being first in?”

Receiving no opposition, the captain returned his gaze to Detective Watson. “You’ll be first in, Watson.” He swallowed heavily at the thought of what force the detective would likely be met with. “May God be with you.”

1

Reggie

Despite his claim of being speechless, the excuses continued to spill from his mouth. Jumbled and incomprehensible, the words bounced from one piece of furniture to the next. Unwilling to acknowledge another moment of justification for his infidelity, my gaze floated around the living room.

I convinced myself he was different.

In the beginning, he was.

Early in our relationship, the mere hint of his cologne would send me into a desire-induced frenzy. Now, sitting six feet away from him on the couch, I was repulsed by that very same aroma. I could only look at him long enough to remind me of what he’d done, and then I had to divert my attention elsewhere.

His attempts to rationalize his actions continued. The dull drone of his voice sawed against my frayed nerves.

I felt foolish for trusting him. I should have listened to my father. He warned me that any man who waxed his eyebrows and got regular manicures was far too vain to remain loyal.

The smell of cheap perfume wafted in my direction. Realizing its origin caused my muscles to tense. I glared at my unfaithful soon to be ex-boyfriend. The dark circles beneath his eyes, wrinkled shirt, and disheveled hair gave hint to the sexual antics he nearly got away with.

I’d spent the same amount of time in a relationship with him as I’d spent in college. Even so, while he admitted the intricate details of his infidelity, I didn’t feel an ounce of heartache. Maybe there was a part of me that expected him to do what he did. Maybe my father’s advice sank in, but I simply failed to act on it.

I wondered if it was an isolated incident. If I somehow allowed myself to unknowingly slip away from him emotionally, leaving him no other alternative but to stray just once.

I mulled the thought over for a moment. It did seem that we’d grown apart. We hadn’t been as intimate with each other. He lacked compassion. I failed to express my concerns, needs, and desires.

I promptly came to my senses. I wasn’t going to accept any of the blame. I’d done nothing. This was all him.

His dick. His decision.

“You know what sucks?” I asked, shifting my attention to him as I spoke. “Like, really sucks?”

He paused mid-sentence. “What’s that?”

“That I can’t get a refund,” I said dryly. “For the time you took from me. Four fucking years, Jared. You lied to me. You convinced me you were worthy of my time. You weren’t. Now, those four years are gone, and I can’t get them back.”

“Refund?” He reached for my hand. “We can fix this. All I did was—”

“You stuck your dick in a random stripper,” I argued. “Don’t try to make it sound like you forgot to put the toilet lid down. It wasn’t an oversight.”

“I was drunk,” he murmured. “And she wasn’t random. I knew her.”