AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘You didn’t have to do that,’ I breathed, clutching the phone harder.
‘I did,’ he replied, his tone betraying nothing. ‘I got you something . . . appropriate.’
My stomach twisted violently. Appropriate?
‘Go to the front door,’ Emilio instructed.
I bristled, looking towards the entryway of my apartment.
‘Are you going to shoot me?’ I asked. Shit. I hadn’t meant to say that. The words had come out of their own volition.
Emilio snorted. ‘And cut short your valuable working life with me? I think not,’ he said, and he sounded amused. ‘Go. Now.’
With knees made of rubber, I shuffled towards the front door of my apartment. It was no longer a secret that I was free to the outside world; Emilio knew. He’d never said a word about it. And in my head, I’d figured it was because, after almost ten years, he’d finally started to trust me. Or because I had Guillermo, a Gypsy Brother and key cartel shitkicker, as my permanent roomie. My round-the-clock bodyguard.
Maybe I was wrong, though. Maybe Emilio didn’t trust me at all.
Maybe he’d found out my secrets. There were so many secrets. Killing Murphy. Killing Murphy’s girlfriend and DEA partner, and screwing John all over this goddamn apartment whenever Dornan and Guillermo were elsewhere. My son. Yeah, I had plenty of secrets for Emilio to unearth.
I keyed in the code to disarm the front door and let it open a crack. I peered around the corner, spotting a slick black SUV downstairs.
So Emilio wasn’t in Colombia then.
‘Open it all the way,’ he commanded, and I did.
On the front stoop, there was a large plain cardboard box, big enough to fit a carry-on suitcase, or maybe a new computer. Maybe that was it, I thought numbly, trying to shake the crawling feeling that pervaded every inch of my skin. Yeah, I decided. I’d told Emilio about my work computer getting slower and how it’d be a good idea to replace it soon. He was giving me a computer.
It sounded so unrealistic, but I clung to the benign possibility that it was something normal at my doorstep, because I couldn’t begin to fathom what it would be if it were not.
‘Going somewhere?’ Guillermo asked, from his spot on the couch. Sprawled out in front of an old episode of SVU, he was eating a slice of Papa John’s pizza and swilling Budweiser. I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder, squatting in front of the package.
No, I turned and mouthed at him as I picked up the box – it was heavy – and carried it to the dining table. It was rarely used for dining, and most often used for fucking, with its convenient height and width.
The box was sealed with thick duct tape. I placed it in the middle of the table and took a few steps to the kitchen to grab a pair of scissors.
‘Is it open yet?’ Emilio asked, and I remembered that he couldn’t see what I was doing in the safety of my own apartment.
‘I’m cutting through the tape,’ I answered, trying not to sound too impatient.
‘Good, cholita,’ he replied. ‘You enjoy. Happy birthday.’
He ended the call. I took the phone away from my ear, staring at the screen for a moment before placing the phone on the table beside the mystery box.
I didn’t want to open the package – something screamed at me to just get rid of it – but I knew Emilio was outside waiting on me, and my curiosity won over my suspicion.
Like a bandaid, I ripped the box open as quickly as I could. The cardboard packaging fell away to reveal an innocuous-looking pink suitcase, one of those hard-shell ones with four wheels that glides like a dream when you’re pushing it through a crowded airport. Not that I’d remember. I hadn’t been on a plane since Murphy had brought me to America almost a decade ago and released me into Dornan’s clutches.
Dornan. I wondered, briefly, if he’d remember what day it was. Probably not, unless John reminded him.
John had already called to wish me a happy birthday, because he was a stand-up fucking guy with things like that. He had the capacity to think about people outside of himself. It was one of the reasons I’d fallen in love with him.
Yeah. Crazy, isn’t it? Being in love with two men at the same time, knowing one is poison and one is safety but not being able to do a damn thing about either of them.
The suitcase. It sat on my table, prompting a thousand questions. Was Emilio sending me away somewhere? Was the suitcase even the point, or was there something inside?
I stepped back for a moment, closing my eyes, letting the drone of the TV and the breeze from the kitchen window centre me. My heart was hammering in my chest, and more than anything, I did not want to open the goddamn suitcase.
Shit.
