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“I don’t take kindly to betrayal. You let Romeo know he has one week to get his little punk ass back to Las Vegas and back to work.”
Finally, some semblance of emotion. A tick appeared in his jaw as he talked about Romeo. He was furious, but almost like a damn robot. His lip twitched again, his mustache wiggling with it, reminding me for a second of a cartoon character.
“If he’s not there. I’ll be back… and I don’t want to have to come back to this piece of shit nowhere town to get him ‘cause that will make me very… very, mad.”
I waited, wondering if that was it or if he’d come after me again if I tried to move.
He sighed heavily. “Now get the fuck out of my car before you get blood on the seats.”
I didn’t wait to be told twice, my hand instantly reaching for the handle—my escape. The door flew open, and I bailed out, not even managing to make it to my feet, just tumbling out onto the curb, the rough concrete scratching at my knees. It was barely a blip on my radar at that moment, but I couldn’t help thinking I was going to feel it later, and that I should probably get up on my feet and attempt to get out of there.
Instead, I just crawled to the nearest wall and placed my back against it.
He reached over the middle of the car and grabbed the door handle, about to pull it closed when the deep rumble of a motorcycle filled the air.
He froze, his hand on the door, his eyes on me.
He heard them, too.
He knew what that meant.
My family was coming.
