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Oh yeah. I have no home, no car, no nothing. It’s not like I wasn’t expecting this. I’ve been planning it since the day I left six years ago.
But I’m a Dark King. I have a very healthy bank account with more money than any human would need in a lifetime. I have to decide what to do with it all.
Move to a quiet state, start a business, and become a private security contractor. Or a recluse. Or do I go back across the border and assist with these women? Because something feels unfinished. I know it’s Isabelle, but I can’t control that.
I know she won’t change her world and choose me.
We’re chalk and cheese.
She’s a society girl in Manhattan.
I’m a tattooed Marine who has lived with the darkest of the cartels, not just in the shadows but as an active member. I mean, fuck, she even saw me kill a man with my bare hands.
What life am I creating back in the U.S. for myself now? I don’t know.
I just don’t fucking know.
Connor hands me a package. I peer inside at what looks like my original passport, a bunch of big notes, and a few plastic cards.
“To cover you over the next few days as you acclimate back.”
“Much appreciated,” I say. “Oh, and by the way, I quit.”
Nate barks out a laugh behind us.
“Whatever. Take a week, and then let’s talk.” Connor rolls his eyes.
Clearly something else I need an update on.
My team won’t let me go back to Mexico. So, if I’m going to, I need to do it alone. And the reality is, with the target on my back, it’s unlikely I’d come back out.
“Grab a car from HQ if you need something today,” Connor says, referring to the Dark King's headquarters.
The building connects to a car parking garage with several motorbikes, cars, and vans. It also has a couch I could crash on while I make some decisions, but after the last few days, a decent bed sounds good. I am considering getting a hotel. God knows the Barrett credit card he just handed me has no limit. My own is stored at HQ and has its own juicy multi-seven-digit balance.
I stare out across the tarmac where Isabelle just drove away from me. Shit. If I spent the night alone, I’ll get fuck faced drunk and do something stupid.
“I’ll crash at yours,” I tell Mack. “And I’m choosing the pizza.”
“You can get your own fucking pizza,” he says as we all walk across the tarmac to Connor's SUV.
I smile.
“You coming back to work tomorrow?” Connor asks Mack.
“Jesus, I just brought our boy back from the cartel fuckers. Don’t I get a day off?”
“Yeah. Today.” Connor winks at me. There are only a few hours left. “Fine, next week. You need to induct these new recruits.”
Mack manages Connor’s security teams inside Barrett Security. The newbies come from military backgrounds, usually elite, and not just from the United States.
I feel my body begin to relax as I climb into the back of the vehicle. It is good to be home. I can’t deny that.
But I’m still angsty about the shipment.
I tug out my phone as we head towards Manhattan and type Javier a text message.
They should have arrived by now. You want that money, or am I buying a tropical island with it and sipping pina coladas while I think of your soon-to-be dead ass.
