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Those two men… I’d known they were looking for Giselle. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. If Giselle spent a lot of time at her old church, her face was more than recognizable. Of course it was only a matter of time before they found her.
Murder, though. That wasn’t what I was expecting of her. Perhaps I hadn’t judged her quite right.
I pulled up to the house, got out of my car and headed to the front door, where a man in black stood, sunglasses covering his eyes and an earpiece in his ear. He looked me up and down when I approached, but he didn’t say a single word to me.
“I’m here to speak with Giselle Santos,” I said. The man before me was, much like the two I’d encountered earlier, used to people being intimidated by him. I, however, was not. I couldn’t say whether I’d ever been intimidated in my life. I supposed there was a first time for everything, but that day had not yet arrived, I knew that much.
When he didn’t say or do anything, I added, “Is she here? My name is Ezekiel, I am the Black Hand’s—” At the mention of the Black Hand, he held up a hand to me, reaching into his pocket and typing something into his phone. After a moment, he stepped aside, allowing me access to the front door.
“Miguel’s not home. I trust there won’t be any problems?” he grunted out, lifting a single eyebrow from behind his glasses at me.
I gave him a small smile. “None whatsoever. Thank you.” I pushed past him, heading into the house. Not sure what I’d find, but the inside was just as new and as fancy as the outside. Even the decorations were ones that most normal folk would never have in their homes. Miguel must really be betting on that Black Hand position being his.
I wandered a little, not spotting anyone. I heard not a sound in the house; it was as if no one was home. However, right as I thought that, I heard the sound of someone bounding down the stairs, being quite loud about it. I went into the hall, having the suspicion it was not Giselle making such noise, and I was right.
It was that guy who watched her every move. A bodyguard, a stalker, it really depended on how you looked at it.
His brown hair was loose and shaggy today, falling over his forehead as he narrowed his green-eyed stare at me. “Frank said a priest was here. I was hoping Cypress had another one.” His voice did not come across as friendly or welcoming, not as if I expected it to. We were not friends. We weren’t even acquaintances.
“Cypress has many churches of many different religions, but unfortunately for you, I am the Black Hand’s priest.”
“Oh, great. Lucky us, then.” He stood on the last step to the bottom, thereby taller than me. He folded his arms across his chest. “Why are you here to see Giselle, Father… what was your name again?”
“Ezekiel, or you can call me Zek.”
“I don’t really want to call you anything, but I’m starting to get the feeling I’m going to be stuck seeing more and more of you, so I guess we’ll just have to see.” Zander must be good at one thing: wasting time. He must be good with that gun too, otherwise I doubted Miguel would stick him with his daughter.
The two were very close in age. I couldn’t help but wonder if that had been done on purpose. When you put two similarly attractive people together, sooner or later they were bound to develop feelings for each other. What a life that must be.
“I take it Giselle is upstairs and that is why you are blocking my way there?” I asked, sounding bored. Because I was. This was about Giselle, not Zander and his protective nature. “Let me put it this way: the longer you distract me, the longer I will be here.”
“Oh, well, when you put it like that, let’s get your ass up there so you can get the fuck out of here sooner, eh?” At that, Zander spun around, dropped his arms to his sides, and started up the steps.
I followed him. He brought me to what looked like an office—and by the slight touch of pink decorations, I could safely assume it was Giselle’s office. He told me to wait there, and so I did. Holding my hands behind my back, I wandered over to the window, peering outside. You could see the backyard from here, the nice, rectangular pool the estate had, the gardens… which did not look too well taken care of, but I supposed that would be among the list of things Miguel would want to deal with last.
A few moments later, a light, feminine voice spoke, “What the hell are you doing here?”
Turning away from the window, I laid eyes on Giselle. She wore a white sundress, her blond hair held up in a clip, a few stray wisps out and framing her heart-shaped face. Her eyes, a warm brown, were accusatory, and her lips were curled into a frown. A beautiful frown, but a frown nonetheless.
She was not happy to see me, although, after last night, she probably thought she’d have a good long while before she had to see me again. Me being here today was undoubtedly the last thing she wanted.
Alas, here I was, and I would not leave until she knew the dangers this city held for her. Not just the Black Hand and the other men vying for the position, but now those thugs… their boss, Atlas. Giselle had her work cut out for her. I wondered how she would handle it.
“I’m here to see you, of course,” I said.
Giselle did not step inside the office, and behind her scowling face, I saw Zander leering at me. Neither one of them liked me very much. I couldn’t blame them. I wasn’t very likable. But I was still alive and whole, which was more than I could say for some people.
“It is a private matter which concerns you,” I added. “I don’t think your… bodyguard should hear it.” I waited a moment. “Unless he is more than a guard to you, then perhaps he already knows all of your secrets?”
“He knows everything about me,” Giselle said.
I stepped away from the window, cocking my head at her as I asked, “Does he? Think hard. Think about who you’ve lost.” I hinted at her old priest—the owner of the golden cross in my pocket. He must’ve been a casualty of that same night, the night those thugs claimed to have lost three of their brethren. It was the only explanation.
She finally caught wind of what I was referring to, and she turned to look at Zander. “Please, Zander, give us the room.”
Zander didn’t look as though he wanted to do anything of the sort. As Giselle stepped into the office, he remained rooted in place near the door. “Okay, you’ll take the room, and I’ll take the hall.” He made a big, dramatic show of flexing his arms as he once more crossed them over his chest.
Letting out an annoyed huff, she gave him a look and then reached for the door. She closed it, right in his face. It was then I realized she had gloves on. Short white gloves, just past her wrists. They hugged her slender fingers, much like the leather gloves had been on her last night. It occurred to me then that no normal person would be wearing gloves while in their own home, unless she’d slipped them on before coming to me.
