With tunnel vision, my hand gripping the silenced pistol easily, my eyes focus on the four men, none of which are the youngest.
Rounding the car so we are in plain sight, I open fire, hitting the two soldiers first, Slate takes out one of the middle brothers and I finish off the other guy. Clean shots, the bodies drop to the ground before anyone realizes what the fuck is happening, unaware to call for backup. Dragging their bodies from plain sight, we prepare for the next lot of men to come through the exit.
Looking at Slate, a fire reflecting in his dark eyes, we wait behind the Mercedes. My heart is beating steadily and I’m calm knowing I am ridding the world of the scum who had my sister killed.
Slate takes a shot at the next guy who comes through the door, narrowly missing him, but takes him down when he tries to find cover.
“Fuck.” The young kid comes out, starry-eyed, looking at the carnage on the ground in front of him.
“Rico, get down,” his brother yells from the side, looking at the dead body.
Grabbing Rico from behind, my arm holds him still but the gun against his temple keeps his brother’s eyes on me, holding him in place. His eyes stabbing me.
“You killed my sister.”
Scanning my face, his eyes flick with uncertainly for a second before his stoic stare is back. “I ordered a hit on Kyle Sawyer.”
Slate pops his gun, the silence of the bullet taking this idiot by surprise. “Aahh.” Holding his shoulder, he turns, looking straight into Slate’s lethal eyes.
“Who the fuck do you think you’re dealing with when you order a hit on my brother-in-law and you did it on my wedding day? You have some balls.”
“Where is the idiot you hired?” The gun pushes into the scalp of the young kid making him tremble, but his brother doesn’t understand how thin the thread is holding me from pulling the trigger.
“No idea.”
“Your brother’s a dick.” I let Rico know his brother just served himself up on a platter. Moving his feet marginally, his knees wobbling more, I pull back on the skinny kid’s neck, he lets out a choked sound.
“That’s a damn shame, ‘cause now I have to kill you.” Slate raises his hand fast, his finger pulling the trigger. The eldest brother drops to the ground with a thud.
Usually excitement and energy would be surging through me, but tonight I’m numb.
Our goal is to find Colton Kearney and if anyone gets in my way, they will be killed without a second thought.
Leaning into the young kid, I growl, “Tell us where the guy is, or you will end up like your family. We know you don’t want this life, Rico. It’s been a demand placed on you. If you tell us where Kearney is, you can have the life you’ve wanted.”
These guys are amateurs, who were trying to make their way into the big league. No security, swollen heads bigger than their brains and skills, and no respect for the families who have walked these streets for years, keeping it ordered and for the most part police-free, solving matters ourselves, profiting everyone.
Squirming against my arm for the umpteenth time, his strength is diminishing and so is his bravado.
“He won’t ask again.” Slate moves in front, his body dwarfing the kids.
Nodding his head the best he can, I release his neck a little.
“I didn’t see him, but my brother said this guy was a stand-alone hitman, who contacted us regarding the job, stating he had personal reasons for wanting it. We stopped at an apartment in the Westside. Part payment of cash was given to him to complete the job.”
Slate hands him his phone. “Punch in the address.”
My gun stays on his head, but I take my arm from him. “Get out of this life. Take this as your chance to start over. If we cross paths again, you won’t know because we will have a bullet between your eyebrows quicker than you can blink. Do you understand?” Slate reaches in Rico’s pockets while he finishes the address, taking his phone. The guy doesn’t have a gun, they left him unarmed. Idiots.
Retrieving his phone and the address, the young guy’s shoulders are slumped, his eyes are tired, and he is defeated but there’s a small spark telling me he’s ready to sprint away from this carnage and start a life of his own.
“Don’t be a fool or a hero, Rico.” Slate and I turn and walk back to our car, ready for the next round.
Countless times I’ve heard, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but does it?
Broken, shattered, confused at different times, I may have gotten back up but each time a slim part of me was shredded away. Like a piece of wood being sanded or left out in the weather, it gets thinner and weaker. It may still stand but nothing can really make it stronger except a new prop to support it.
I haven’t had support, yet I still ask even though it’s futile.
“I need you, Mom.” Tears swell in my eyes but don’t fall. Why is it I still think about her when times are tough? Abandoned by her, she hasn’t helped me once when I needed it. No one has.
Except Ocean.
Curled around myself in bed, my thirteen-year-old body decides it needs to become a woman… now. Hurting from being hit across the back earlier by Dad and the broomstick at work, my stomach cramps but my face is pounding more.
Trying to speak to Dad at work about needing some products for my period, was useless. He looked at me like five heads appeared before him. He muttered something to himself, before leaving me standing out back, bereft and worried. No protection was going to be a major problem.
Taking matters into my own hands, when both Dad and Colton were out back, I found some on the shelf and put them into a bag and left. I knew I would have to deal with the repercussions later, but I didn’t realize it would be so bad.
Seven o’clock came and Dad walked into the house drunk. Loud and rude, he hollered for me to come and heat his dinner I left out for him. Colton ate with me, but he left as soon as he had finished, leaving me to work out how my body was adjusting to womanhood by myself. Which after Dad’s reaction was fine by me.
“You little bitch.” Keeping my head down, I placed the plate in the microwave and watched it spin. I hate it when he’s like this.
“I knew you would be a problem like your mother. Complaining when she was on the rag.”
Shifting my feet, I pray the food to hurry up.
“No doubt you’ll trick some poor prick into having sex now, just like your mother did, trapping me.”
Retrieving the food, I scrunch my face up thinking about being anywhere near a guy like that. No way will that be happening, I would have no idea what to do, and besides I’ve heard other older people at school say it hurts.
“Here you go, Daddy.”
Wham…
The plate of food flies from my hands and shatters everywhere, flinging the lasagna throughout the small kitchen.
Whack…
The back of his hand connects across my cheek. Pain radiates through my face. Losing my footing, I fall onto the floor, the ceramic plate pieces digging into my skin. Clenching my mouth to keep me from screaming in pain, I start to clean.
“You’re all the same. Using that shit to get out of work and priorities. On your knees is where all women belong, that way there’s no excuses. It can be any time of the month.”
Nodding my head, I won’t say a word because it will only make things worse and I am not quite sure what he means.