“Not just the Rocha but Miguel Munha,” I chuffed. Ethan never forgave him for that nightclub incident. Grabbing my phone, I finally focused on something other than his damn family. I scrolled through all the news reports of the city. It was just as bad as I thought it was. It was just as bad as it could be. The president had called a state of emergency. There were almost two hundred extra cops in the city alone, plus the National Guard, and he did this all to prove a damn point. I’d thought Ethan would be the least likely to give in to his ego and pride in comparison to other men. However, apparently, when left alone with his brother, he had to flex.
“You crippled the state’s government because they told your brother you couldn’t kill them, and you’ve pinned it on the Rocha cartel? The Rocha?” I gasped in disbelief. “Really?”
“From your tone, I’m guessing you do not approve,” he answered.
“It’s a little late for whether I approve or not. And it’s not about whether or not I approve. I mean, sure it works, but the Rocha? They have five functioning brain cells together as a whole cartel, and Miguel Munha only has two of those cells.” Hence when they attracted morons who thought it was a good idea to attack the Callahan family now of all times.
“You are being very generous to him,” he said as we reached the 15th block of Ballico.
“Exactly. They are a bunch of half-wit, drugged up, muscle men with gorilla tattoos on their hands, and somehow, they managed to take out the top politicians in the state? What? If anything, you just gave Miguel Munha more street credibility. People will think if that idiot could take out the governor, he must be someone when he’s no one. He’s going to walk into that prison with people attached to his balls and crowned king.”
“What make makes you think he’ll make it to prison?” he asked, putting the car in park right beside…a donut shop.
Not many people saw Ethan’s humor. But I always did and because he did his best to tease me whenever he could. And he had the audacity to look at me blankly as if he did not get why I was glaring at him.
Ignoring it, I focused.
“No,” I said, showing him the news report about the current manhunt for a Munha in what the press was calling the Hangman Murders.
“No?” he repeated.
“Yes.” I nodded. “I said, no, you cannot kill him. This is too big now. He has to make it to prison, Ethan. You want to pin it on him, fine. But people need a villain.”
“Am I not the villain?” he asked with a small glint in his eyes. Again… Ethan’s humor.
I rolled my eyes. “Would you like to go to prison, Mr. Villain?”
“I want Miguel Munha dead…I want them all dead,” he replied, looking out at the small borough of good ol’ fashioned blue-collared Mexican-Americans.
“Should have thought that before. Kill
him later when people have somewhat forgotten. But he goes to jail and you will have to settle for tearing this block apart as a warning.”
He glared at me. “One would think you are his guardian angel with how often you’ve stopped me from killing him.”
“Why waste a pawn when it still has use?”
His phone beeped and I was sure he now knew exactly who attacked his house this morning. He started the car, speeding down the street and turning into a car repair shop currently trying to close its doors. Ethan stuck the nose of his car in before they could.
“Sorry man, we’re closed,” the mechanic called, dressed in dark blue overalls with car grease on his face.
Ethan drove inside anyway, forcing the man with the ugly goatee and gold tooth to move back.
“What the fuck, man? You deaf?” the soon-to-be-dead idiot yelled.
And it was clear we were in the right place from the amount of men with gorilla mouth masks and guns. They pointed them at our car. Quickly, I rolled down the window.
“We—We’re sorry! We’re sorry,” I giggled nervously before opening the car door.
“Don’t move! Or we will blow you the fuck away,” one of them yelled at me.
“Look I didn’t see anything. We’ll go. But please just check to see if something is wrong with the car.”
Another man stepped forward, looking in, but he couldn’t really see due to the tinted windows. He held the gun tighter.
“Tell your man to roll all the windows down.”
“Hunny…he…the windows.” I trembled, looking to him.