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I guess I would be too if I grew up with parents who were addicts.
“You’ve got your own green,” I point out. “I know you do. I can smell it.”
Tomas rolls his eyes. “It’s double bagged. I would have taken it home after I picked it up if I’d known it was this strong.”
“So you bought it to not smoke it?” Javi sarcastically inquires.
I grab water for everyone at the table, but when I get back, they’re quiet.
“What’s wrong?”
“They aren’t smoking,” Tomas tells me, sounding uneasy.
I glance out the balcony door where Dean and Reggie are talking to each other, though their hand motions make them look angry.
“Why are they arguing?”
“I don’t know,” Javi states. “They’ve been acting strange all night.”
“I noticed that too. Dean keeps looking at his phone, like he can’t stay away from it,” I add. “He’s usually not glued to it. He doesn’t even answer text messages.”
Javier nods in agreement. “Maybe his new girl dumped him? Last week, he mentioned they were fighting a lot.”
“That sucks,” I mumble, trying to remove myself from their drama before it gets started.
Tomas scoffs. “He’s an ass. Serves him right.”
“So, your sister is single now, right?” Javier teases.
“Shut up,” he retorts. “She’s moving next week. Going to study abroad.”
“Florida isn’t abroad,” Javi says with a grin.
“She’s going to Mexico City.” Tomas flicks a plastic chip at him. “Stop being a dick.”
Dean and Reggie come back inside, but they don’t bring the scent of pot with them. They do pretend to be high, though… Chuckling amongst themselves as they bump shoulders. It sets my nerves on edge. We’ve just watched them argue and nothing else.
Why are they acting?
Shallow vibrations roll through the floor before the two guys even make it to the table. Javier and Tomas launch to their feet, but I take my time. That wasn’t like any earthquake I’ve ever felt; that was a fucking bomb on one of the lower floors.
This is a fucking set-up.
Reggie pulls his gun. “Sorry, man. I really hate to do this.”
Javier shoots first. No questions asked. He’s never not packing and ready to kill, as quick with his draw as Jasper is. Tomas pulls the trigger mere seconds after, hitting Dean in the knee before he can respond.
Dean crawls backward, but he doesn’t lower his gun now that it’s out. “It’s nothing against—”
“Us?” I interrupt. “What is it then?”
“He’s taking over. He’s going to win this war. We’re all going to die if we don’t—”
“Juan or Estrada?” I guess, but Dean doesn’t get the chance to answer.
My front door bursts open, and four more of our guys spill into my apartment, guns raised, ready to kill. But not ready enough to contend with Javier and Tomas. The former empties his first clip, and the latter pulls a switchblade from his pocket, throwing it at one guy, hitting him in the eye.
I love nothing more than a good shootout, but I have no need to worry with Javi and Tom at my back, so I turn my attention elsewhere.
