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“I appreciate that, Creed. I don’t know what I’m up against,” I admit.
“Doesn’t matter what the fuck you’re up against. We got your back, brother. You’ve always made good with us, and we will always have your back,” he tells me. My heart swells as I nod my head even though he can’t see me.
“I appreciate that.”
“No problem. Call me when you have somethin’, and I’m so sorry about your family.”
“Thanks, Creed. I’ll be in touch.” I make more phone calls setting up who I’ll need help from when the time comes. I have enough pull and enough friends that this should be easy.
Once I have everyone I’ll need, I head back out of the room and into the kitchen. Kyla is still sitting there, looking lost in thought.
“You okay?”
“I should ask you that,” she replies, looking up at me. “You look better.”
“I feel better. I appreciate you helping me out around here.”
“That’s the least I can do after what happened.”
“You didn’t want any part of it. Why?”
“I already told you. I don’t believe in what they did.”
“And that’s part of why you want out?” I ask her.
“Yeah, it is. I understand my role and what’s expected of me, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I don’t want this life anymore. I want to be … normal.”
“What is normal?”
“I don’t really know anymore. I don’t think I’ve ever known.”
“Normal isn’t for all people. Normal is some shit job with a little house that holds all the shitty memories. No one wants normal.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what I want. A place to hold all the shit memories,” Kyla answers. I shake my head, a headache forming around my eyes. She can see the pain in me, making me wonder how. How does she see it all? “You don’t feel well.”
“Memories will do nothing but drive you crazy. It isn’t worth it.”
“Don’t you want the memories of your wife and daughter?” she asks. She knows how to push me. Sometimes too far. Bringing them up is one way of doing that.
“Not for a man like me. Men like me need to forget, or we will never move forward. We’ll never fix the problems.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Mystic. You know that, right?”
“I fought in wars, Kyla. I was a killer. I know how to kill or be killed. Your family swooped in here and took something I can’t replace, but I can fix it. I know how to fix it,” I tell her.
“You don’t know what you’re up against,” she says softly. Of course I don’t because she hasn’t told me, but I’ll wait. I’ll wait until I make good on my promise to help her before asking more questions. Kyla takes a deep breath before sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest.
“And I won’t know until you tell me.”
“My father doesn’t care about life. He doesn’t care about anything. He wants what he wants, and that’s how things are. There is no reasoning with a man like him.”
“What’s his name?”
“Marcos. Mitchel Marcos.”
“That name doesn’t mean much to me.”
“It should. He’s mafia. Dangerous. If he came after you, you’ve had to have crossed paths with him.”
