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Once the last digit is turned and set, the latch disengages, and I open the top. There’s an envelope inside and after a rough count, I know the agreed fifty-percent deposit is there, if not a little more.
He’ll get his briefcase back with the merchandise.
After my nod, Dad gives him a final handshake and steps back, a clear signal that we are done here. No further words are exchanged and the client leaves, getting inside his BMW while we turn and I press the fob to unlock our doors.
We each make it to our door; my father’s hand is on the handle when the first shot rings out in the parking lot. Immediately, I move to his side and drop us to the ground, my body covering his.
The second round hits close, too close, and I pull my Glock from the back waistband of my jeans and fire in the shooter’s direction. “Did the first one hit you?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“No. At least, I don’t feel anything.”
That’s not reassuring, but I focus on keeping him alive. Adrenaline courses through me. My hand wants to shake, but it’s not fear. Not for myself, at least. Mom’s face comes to mind, and I take a second to breathe in deep through my nose, then exhale.
I can’t allow anything to happen to us. Mom won’t mourn us.
Neither will Amberlyn.
She’s been on my mind more and more as of late. I’ve always noticed how beautiful she is, how sweet, but have kept my distance. Haven’t allowed more than innocent flirting while everyone is oblivious to my attraction.
Focus, asshole. Kill the asshole.
Lifting my head, I scan the area the first two shots came from and make out a pair of dark glasses, a mistake from the shooter as they reflect the moonlight, glinting as a target. I don’t hesitate, moving a little to the side so I can get better aim.
We exchange fire at the same time.
His next fire zips right by my ear, while I empty my entire clip into the motherfucker. There’s a specific sound that bullets make when hitting flesh, this low, almost thud before his body hits the ground. However, as he does, one more round dislodges and my father screams from beneath me.
Panic sets in and I drop my gun, not giving a fuck about anything but making sure he’s okay.
“My leg, Ivan. Hijo de puta got my leg.”
It was my bullet—my panic and forgetting to call for cleanup—that eats at me. That body with my bullet holes was dumped in Thiago’s home and pinned on him because I forgot a simple rule.
He lost five years because of something drilled into our heads since we were old enough to hold a weapon.
An oversight like that is unacceptable.
Killing those threatening my woman and family is how I repay my sins.
The sun sets lower in the sky, filling the night with various shades of orange and pink with touches of purple mixing in. It grows darker by the minute, and I look over at the clock on the wall, noticing it’s just after eight and she should be walking through the door at any moment. Later than usual, but the calendar on her fridge says there were errands to run.
My sirenita had mundane things to do and the fact makes me smile. It’s what I want for her.
That the most she worries about is buying groceries, picking up meds from the pharmacy, and sometimes getting tires rotated on her car.
The latter is something I’ve taken care of for her in the past and failed to do so this time. It bothers me a bit, but I ignore it in lieu of the bigger picture: my sirenita is safe.
She’s independent. So beautiful and strong.
I need her more than she needs me. A thought that’s steeped in truth, and I can’t deny a small part of me hates it. Abhor that her world continues without me, while mine revolves around hers.
I don’t doubt her love for me, but my obsession—this need mauling at my chest—overshadows anything Amberlyn feels for me. It’s what brought me here instead of stopping at my parents’ home to handle the Cindy—or whatever the fuck her name is—situation. Why I barely showered in my penthouse overlooking the South Beach waters and didn’t hesitate to unlock her door and sit in this oversized chair while waiting for Amberlyn to return.
That is what this kind of love does to a man. I can’t stay away, no matter what vows I make for myself.
I’m crazy and irrational. Near desperate to feel her again, but won’t.
Not until I can come back and place a diamond on her finger. Because I will. I’ll lay the corpses of our enemies at her dainty feet before sliding my ring where it belongs.
