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My proposal. Our marriage.
I want to buy a new house, somewhere outside the city. I want to give her as many kids as she asks for, and I want to see them grow old and fall in love.
I hope it’s a little less volatile than this. Still, I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
This is our story. Our romance. No one can take that away from us.
Ricardo pulls up, and I’m forced to say my goodbyes. “Enough making out. We have to hurry,” he says.
I kiss her one last time, my bottom lip folding against the top of her mouth. She stands in the hangar, hair blowing wildly from the wind. As we peel out of there, I keep my eyes fixed on her.
She disappears as we pull away.
“So things didn’t go according to plan?” he asks. “I had a feeling Byron wouldn’t give up that easy. You should have sent it to the police. It would’ve done you more good.”
“Public outrage is much stronger than any American police department. I wasn’t about to take any chances,” I said. “But I’ll admit. This has gone too far.”
I cock my pistol and hold it near my heart.
“Jesus. You’re really willing to take it this far, aren’t you?” he asks.
“Does it look like I’m playing around?” I ask him.
“Once a gangster, always a gangster. Is that how the saying goes?”
“You know Byron is armed to the teeth. He’s not stupid. He knows I’m coming after him,” I say.
“Be careful,” Ricardo warns me. “You haven’t fired a gun in years, right?”
I shrug him off, but it’s a fair point. I’m going to need some help with this. I’m going to need someone like Ricardo to watch my back.
I grin. “Want to make another fifteen grand?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Are you going to make me do what I think you’re going to make me do?”
He looks worried, but I know he can’t turn down that much money.
I eye him carefully. “It’s another fifteen grand. Your wife will be happy, right?”
“It’ll be bitter sweet,” he says. “But, you know me too well. I’m game.”
“Head toward the old Napolitano warehouse. You know the one?” I ask him.
“You think that’s where he’s run off to?”
“Definitely,” I tell him. “I bet he’s got a fortune stashed away in that place. He’s not going to split without taking some valuables as currency. Then I reckon he’ll flee. Who knows, maybe he’ll leave the country. I can’t wait around to find out. I need him out of my life for good.”
“Okay, let’s do it,” he says, turning the wheel.
The car skids. We head in the direction of the old Napolitano warehouse.
Rocco
We stop near the warehouse entrance.
“Look,” Ricardo says. “Over there.”
Sure enough, a helicopter rests on top of the building. Three armed guards patrol.
