“Pilar,” he murmurs.
I swallow, tearing my eyes away from him to take another look at the woman, but she disappears into the private room. My gaze wanders back to him and tears blur my vision as I stare at him.
I didn’t feel him.
I.
Didn’t.
Feel.
Him.
Something behind me grabs his attention and his eyes go wide with terror. His lips move, but I can’t hear him.
I didn’t feel him.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his gun. It’s in that second, while the man I love aims a gun at me, that I realize how to end the pain once and for all.
I close my eyes.
Joaquin screams.
Guns blaze in every direction.
A bullet pierces my flesh.
And then another.
No more pain.
Chapter 9
Joaquin
I don’t know when the gunfire stopped or even how I wound up on the floor cradling Pilar’s lifeless body. All I remember is the sound of my voice begging for her to wake up, for the blood to stop pouring from her wounds and for those wounds to magically disappear.
Of course, God doesn’t hear the prayers of the Devil and so there I sat, covered in her blood, still holding her in my arms.
“Joaquin, brother, you have to let her go. We have to get out of here.”
I gently moved my hand away from the back of her head where her hair was matted and stuck to her scalp. Blood covered my fingers and I wiped them across my shirt before pushing a stray hair away from her beautiful face.
Her eyes were still open, and I remember thinking there was no light to be found there.
There was nothing but a cold body and a broken heart.
I bent my head and pressed my lips to hers, finding them just as cold as the rest of her. When I reluctantly looked at Rocco, he was holding Violet in the crook of his arm. She was hysterical and he shielded her from the massacre sitting before her.
Victor’s guys had taken him out the back and Rocco had ordered Violet to get under the table. It took him less than a minute to join me but every bullet we sent flying into Pablo’s brother’s body was too late. He and his crew had already done their damage.
“They killed her, Rocco.”
“I’m sorry, brother.”
Now, I know you’re wondering how I knew it was Pablo’s brother who killed Pilar— well, the motherfucker was his twin. Looking back, I think that’s why I stalled when I spotted him standing behind her. For a split-second, I thought I hadn’t killed him and then I recalled his dead eyes and it all clicked.
It was an eye for an eye.
“They fucking killed her,” I shouted, looking at Rocco again. “Look at her.”
“Joaquin . . . ”
“Please, just look at her,” I pleaded, tears filling my eyes. “She didn’t deserve this, Rocco.”
I buried Pilar on a Tuesday— the day after Rocco got made. What? Did you think her death would change the course of Victor’s plan? Not a chance.
It was business as usual.
To them, she was just a junkie.
No one cared that I had just lost the only woman I ever allowed myself to love.
Well, I shouldn’t say that— Rocco cared.
In my time of grief, he stepped up. He got rid of the guns and paid the restaurant to destroy the surveillance tapes and lie to the police about the meeting. There was no trace of Victor to be found and when the cops came and saw the dead bodies, it was Rocco who told them Pablo’s guys had come into the restaurant guns blazing and I had acted in self-defense after they killed Pilar.
Pilar was taken to the morgue and Rocco, Violet, and I went home. My sister was a mess, but I didn’t have the head to console her. Hell, I don’t remember speaking to her after that. Rocco had to give her a sleeping pill to get her to finally go down. The next day, he called the airlines and changed her flight. He flew home with her and after his ceremony, he came back to stand beside me as Pilar was lowered into the ground.
I wanted revenge.
I wanted to kill and maim.
I wanted to wash away the stain of Pilar’s blood and replace it with the stain of someone else’s.
And so that’s exactly what I set out to do.
Victor turned himself in shortly after the funeral and with Rocco back in New York, I was free to run amuck. I sat outside Pablo’s house for two weeks, watching his wife. I thought of a million ways I could kill her and leave their children as orphans. I came close twice, once when she was sleeping and another when she was taking a shower, but the boy dressed in Batman pajamas and the little girl in the crib beside him always stopped me.
I can’t explain why. I just couldn’t do it.
Sometimes, I tell myself it wasn’t her time yet and I assure myself that when it is, it’ll be me who ends her life. Other times, I tell myself she ain’t worth it.
My phone sounds with a text and I shake the thoughts from my head.
Focus on today.
Turning the phone over, I glance at the screen and see it’s Violet. I swipe my thumb across the screen and open the text.
Violet: Checking on you.
Me: Still alive.
I lay the phone back on top of the desk and lean back in my chair. The bass sounds from the main floor and I close my eyes. It’s times like this when I’m alone with nothing but my thoughts and regrets that I feel Pilar’s presence.
Her love was a gift, one that will stay with me forever.
Someone knocks on the door, disrupting my moment of peace and my eyes shoot open. Slowly, I open the top drawer of my desk and pull out my gun.
“Come in,” I call.
The door opens and Primo steps inside. He doesn’t flinch at the gun in my hand and meets my gaze.
“The car is here to take you to the airport.”
I give him a nod and rise from my chair, tucking my gun into the waistband of my pants. I button my jacket, fix my sleeves, and smooth a hand over my tie.
Appearances are everything.
As I round the desk, I play back all the lessons Victor schooled me on throughout the years. However, there’s one lesson I wish he would’ve taught me before he died and that’s how to live when all the great ones around you are dead.
The End . . . for now.