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“No. This one is American and older.”
“Okay.” Grabbing the still-wet towel from my earlier shower, I wipe my hand and stomach before standing from the bed. I’ll need a quick rinse before heading out, but for now, I wrap the bedsheet around my waist. I’ve made a mess, but it’s her fault and I look over to where her figure still sleeps peacefully on the monitor. I can’t help but bite back a chuckle when I find her hugging my pillow. She sleeps on the right, while I’ve always taken the left side of the bed. “Dalian doesn’t leave. If he tries, shoot him. Blow out both kneecaps if you must, but don’t kill him. He owes me a conversation.”
“Consider it done.”
“I’ll see you in a few.” Before I drop the phone, I read Dad’s message.
How was the flight? ~Viejo
Parents never stop worrying. Yet before I get the chance to respond, there’s another text.
Answer me, so I can calm your mother. If not, she’ll be calling in sixty seconds. ~Viejo
I bark out a laugh, shaking my head. She would, too.
Good, and I’ll be driving back once I pick up. See you around two. ~Ivan
At once, three dots appear.
At the docs or warehouse by 49th? ~Viejo
Neither. We’re taking a trip to the swamp. ~Ivan
The parking lot is full, and the music can be heard from where I’m parked a few hours later. I’m next to a party bus; the lights inside are on, but the driver is long gone. He drove my prey here, and did a little coke, too.
Yet a few bills were enough to send him on his way. Alive.
“In and out. Keep it clean.” I’m an asshole, but killing innocent people isn’t how I get off.
“Yes, sir.” Israel steps outside the all-white SUV with black tints and the two others traveling with us follow. They check their weapons and move to the back and wait for me.
It’s late at night.
Those on our side of the world sleep, yet a few lurk.
Work. Party. Or fuck.
Dalian’s mistake was doing all three without fear of being found. Every move he and his family took against mine wasn’t well thought out. A trap with too many exit points, especially after the unhidden fiasco they created to reel in Amberlyn.
Bringing in the female as bait to gain Mermaid’s trust, as though she—I—wouldn’t see through it, almost makes me laugh. Almost, had it not pulled me away from my girl and forced decisions that keep us apart for now.
Pulling out my phone, I open the camera again. I just need to see if she’s still sound asleep.
The sight that greets me tugs at my lips and my heart, and the owned fucker thumps harshly inside my chest. There she is, warm and sweet and waiting for me. Now she’s snuggled up in a soft blanket that usually stays at the foot of the bed. It’s big enough for her and in a dark purple tone she loves.
Closing my eyes for a second, I breathe in deep and then out, craning my head from side to side. All noises in the back minimize. They feel like a low thrum, yet I can pinpoint the direction of each: the guards at the back of my vehicle talking lowly, the two men laughing at something while walking past us, and then my breathing.
It’s harsh, but not from nerves. No.
Rage flows through my veins and burns me from the inside. My hands clench, the phone in my hand making a low cracking noise, and I look down. The plastic groans again, and I drop it beside me on the seat.
I want my pound of flesh.
For her. For us.
The darkness in my soul, the baser instincts, demand blood. Retribution.
A sigh comes from my phone and I gaze down, seeing the microphone turned on. She can hear me, and I, her. Amberlyn turns then, just a slight shift, and gives another content sound. It’s low, almost indiscernible, but to me, it’s as if she’s moaning beside my ear.
