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Miguel comes in a few minutes later and signals for Nico. “We’ve got the whole thing on video. We’ll get them.”
“Could I see it?” I ask, my voice wavering from the storm of emotions rushing through me.
Miguel calls it up on his phone and shows it to us.
Nico moans at the sight of his brother being shot while stopped at a red light in one of Nico’s black cars.
I gasp at the red ’69 Pontiac GTO that Joaquín helped his cousin Diego restore. They worked on it over an entire winter four years ago. “The car belongs to Diego Garcia, Joaquín’s first cousin on his mother’s side. He’s the one who threatened us in traffic.” As I rattle off his address, a place I visited many times while they were working on the car, I’m completely dead inside from the confirmation that the shooting is, in fact, tied to me.
“This is good information,” Miguel says. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. None of this would be happening if it wasn’t for me.”
Nico puts his arm around me, but I shake him off. I can’t bear to be touched.
Jason comes out from the back, his expression grim. Everyone surrounds him, desperate for any information they can get. “He was shot in the neck, and the bullet is lodged next to his spine.”
Elena would’ve fallen to the floor if Lorenzo and Vincent hadn’t grabbed her.
“He needs emergency surgery,” Jason says. “I’ll do it. I’m his best chance for a full recovery, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure that’s what he gets.”
“Jason,” Elena says, wailing. “Please save my baby. Please.”
“I’ll do everything I can, Elena, but his condition is grave. I need to be honest with you. The surgery could result in anything from death to paralysis to complete recovery. I won’t know for sure until we get in there and see how bad the damage is.”
“Oh my God,” Maria whispers.
Dee weeps silently next to me as Wyatt keeps an arm around her.
“We’ll pray for you,” Carmen tells her husband. “And for Milo. Go save him.” She hugs him, tells him she loves him and lets him go to do what he does best. “Let’s pray,” she says to the rest of us.
Since the day I met this amazing, generous, loving family, they’ve wrapped their arms around me and made me—and my son—a part of their family. This is the first time I’ve felt that I don’t belong with them. As they gather into a tight circle to pray for Milo, I take a step back. I feel sick to the depths of my soul that I brought this horror to them, even if inadvertently.
If Milo dies or is paralyzed, they’ll never forgive me. I’ll never forgive myself. He’s the sweetest guy, and to think of either of those fates befalling him is crushing, to say the least.
