“Search the house,” I command in Spanish.
I lift my gun higher in the air, pointing at every opening. A door creaks open to my right, and I shoot at it before anyone can step out. Something thuds to the ground, and I go for the door, rolling it open with one finger, my gun aimed inside. There is only one guard in this small room. Now he’s dead.
I walk back down the hallway, toward the dark kitchen, stepping around the corner with my finger on the trigger. It’s so quiet I can hear the faucet leaking. The floor creaks behind me, and I spin around, ready to pull the trigger.
“Just me, boss,” Guillermo says, holding one hand in the air.
I lower my gun.
“Searched the whole house and outside. This box was out there.”
I frown down at the box, looking it over. “Heavy?”
“No ticking. I don’t think it’s a bomb.”
I dig in my back pocket, pulling out my pocketknife and slicing through the tape on the center of the box. Pulling open the flaps, I carefully take out the crumpled newspapers. For all I know, it could be a bomb, triggered by the faintest touch.
But it’s not.
When I see what it is, my chest caves in.
This is something much worse than any bomb or set up.
It’s cold and hard, with dark stains of blood on it. Bitch couldn’t even clean it properly.
Jaw pulsing, heart racing, I clutch it in hand, my throat thickening as I flip it over and take the note out from between the teeth.
Family can be just as useless, right, Jefe?
Thiago.
His skull.
THAT. BITCH!
My nostrils flare as I study the skull. My cousin’s skull. Her cursive handwriting. I remember it well, along with the many notes she’d leave behind, begging me to love her. Begging me to only be with her. Begging me to marry her.
She knew I was coming here.
She wanted me to find this.
“This lead was from a trusted source,” I growl.
“Well, maybe we can’t trust that motherfucker anymore,” Sebastien mutters, stepping around another corner, peering down at the skull. “This place was a decoy. Doesn’t even seem like they were here for more than a day. It was a set-up. I don’t know what the fuck she was planning, but we need to get the fuck out of here before more of them show up. Now, Jefe.”
I walk past Guillermo, back down the hallway, kicking the screen door off the hinges before getting back outside.
Just as we hop into the truck and the driver starts to pull off, a loud explosion catches us all by surprise. A bomb has just gone off, flames lighting the sky, the whole place on fire now.
My teeth grit at the sight of it.
She tried to kill me.
Enough of the fucking games.
This bitch is fucking with the wrong man.
17
GIANNA
The next morning, there is a soft knock on my door.
I roll over to the sound, fully alert, pushing the gun under my pillow when the door creaks open, and Jen steps in.
“Good morning,” she chimes. She’s fully dressed in a thick, soft pink sweater, khakis, and knee-high brown boots. Her dark hair is parted at the crown and gathered behind her in a low ponytail. “I just wanted to let you know that my mom had to run a few errands today, but she left me the car in case you want to go for breakfast in town.” She twists her fingers into knots, smiling a little. “Maybe we can have a girls’ day and get to know each other a little better? Get our hair done and maybe go shopping afterwards? If you want…”
I press my lips to smile as I sit up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “Uh, yeah. Sure. That would be nice.”
A sigh of relief escapes her. “Oh, thank goodness. I thought you were going to reject the whole thing. I may or may not have scheduled hair appointments for us—not saying your hair looks bad or anything, I just figured you might like a new look for your fresh start…” She trails off, chewing on her bottom lip. “Please tell me if I’m annoying you. I can totally call and cancel the appointment if it’s too much.”
I laugh, sliding out of bed and walking to meet her. I grip her shoulders with a warm smile. “Stop it, Jen. You are not annoying me. I appreciate you doing this. I always loved getting my hair done and going shopping.”
She beams. “Mom told me your mom would take you to the hair salon with her every other Saturday and then to the mall to pick a new outfit to match your hair. I just wanted to do something nice.”
My smile almost collapses just hearing about Mom, but I keep myself together, my smile never fading. “Which is exactly why I am eager to go. I’ll get dressed and meet you downstairs.”