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Guillermo stood his ground.
‘Since when do you think it’s okay to keep aiming a motherfucking gun at me?’ he mocked. ‘I just risked my fucking dick by taking you to the crematorium. Pulled it out of my pants and rested it on the fucking chopping block. And this is how you say thank you?’
I could hear the blood pumping in my veins, hot and thick and syrupy. That blood, it needed reparation. It demanded it.
‘I don’t care about your dick,’ I said, deathly calm.
He rolled his eyes, bracing himself against the front door. ‘And I don’t care about your little revenge vendetta,’ he snapped back. ‘You stupid girl, you really think you’re going to achieve anything by going down to see the boss man, guns blazing? No. He’ll take you back to San Diego and shove you in that dungeon of his so fast, you won’t even know what’s happening until he slams the door shut on your pretty Colombian face.’
Well. I didn’t know what to say to that.
‘Think about it,’ Guillermo drawled, pointing at his temple. ‘He wanted you to react, Ana. He’s trying to make you crack.’
I dropped the gun to my side, curiosity winning against the rage, at least temporarily.
‘Why,’ I asked. ‘Why would he do this now?’
Guillermo raised his eyebrows. ‘He’s trying to get into everyone’s heads, isn’t he? His right-hand man still hasn’t shown up, alive or dead, and Emilio wants to know what the fuck happened to his supposedly loyal prick of a business associate.’
Murphy. He was talking about Murphy.
Guillermo raked his eyes over me. ‘Girl, he knows Murphy visited you. He knows ain’t nobody seen the man after he left you.’
I swallowed thickly. ‘What are you trying to say?’
Guillermo took a step forward. ‘Nothing. I ain’t trying to say nothing. I don’t know what happened, and I don’t want to know, because knowing anything like that puts me in the firing line, you hear me?’
‘You know he’s dead. You know I killed him.’
‘I know you can be fucking stupid, Ana.’
My anger kicked up a beat. I wanted to kill Emilio. I wanted to feel his blood on my hands. I wanted it to soak into my skin. I wanted his death to become a part of who I was. If that was stupid? So be it.
‘Open the door,’ I said, my voice hard.
He didn’t budge.
‘Now, Guillermo.’
He shook his head. Fucking prick. I responded by taking aim at the door, just to the left of his head, and squeezing down three pounds on a six-pound trigger. If I sneezed, Guillermo would be as good as dead.
He just stared at me.
‘Open. The. Door.’
‘No. Fucking. Way.’
There was a hard rap on the door outside, and it was lucky I didn’t blow Guillermo’s head off. He stepped to the side and ducked, as I stared at the door, panting heavily. I took my finger off the trigger.
Guillermo glared at me, motioning for me to lower the gun. ‘Jesus fucking Christ, I’m on your side, bitch. Settle down.’
I was seething. ‘Who did you call?’ I demanded. Guillermo ignored my question, tapping a code into the security pad that I didn’t quite catch, and opened the door with a heavy thunk.
I gripped my gun tightly at my side, ready to aim at whoever the fuck was daring to come into my house when I was reeling from the events that had happened today. My finger itched against the hard metal trigger, begging for release. I hoped that it was Emilio. In that moment, I didn’t even care if he shot me as well. As long as I got a bullet in him first. He needed to bleed for what he had done. For everything that he had done.
But it wasn’t Emilio. It wasn’t Dornan.
It was John.
