by Koko Brown
I prayed she got the symbolism.
God owed me no favors and I had none to cash in, but a man could hope.
On my way to the hospital, I received a call from Sebastian again.
“What?” I said with more annoyance than I meant to put through.
“Just the messenger, mi hermano.” He answered. “Verification hasn’t been made with the information from the flare, but a hit from Destini’s passport shows she boarded a plane back to Jovellanos. She should land in two hours.”
“Oh my God,” I exclaimed. “I’m going there now, get everything prepped for the transfer. I’ll text you when I’ve got her.”
Making a quick U-turn, I headed towards the airport and thankfully with no police to stop me. It only took me thirty minutes to get there, even though it was a fifty-minute ride and her plane didn’t land for another hour, but I couldn’t miss her again. There was no way I’d let her slip through my fingers like she did earlier that day.
The plane that Sebastian said she was on was full, but low and behold, she was in the middle of the bunch with a panicked look in her eye.
“Destini,” I called. “Destini.”
She looked up and those big brown eyes grew wider. From my vantage point, the look resembled fear but then a calmness went over her face. She stopped walking suddenly and caused people behind her to curse and go around her. Oddly enough, I hadn’t move from my standing position near the exit in the small airport. Both of us were simply staring until she broke the silence and said, “It was you. I knew it was you.”
My head nodded as the smile stole across my face. Destini started moving again before she said, “How’d you do it? You got a donor, didn’t you?”
I confirmed with a nod.
“Why Diego?” She stopped again, about a couple yards away from me. “Why?”
I couldn’t believe she was actually asking me this question after everything we’d been through.
“You’re mine,” I replied. “You know this.”
Her head lowered with eyes downcast to the ground.
“Destini, mi alm,” I called. “Come.”
When she looked back up, tears were in her eyes, but this time, she ran to me causing me to go back on one leg and lift her until our lips connected. It was needy and blew all the rules of public displays of affection out of the water. The woman bit my lip, and I all but mauled her right there near the doors of the airport.
“We need to go.” I put her on her feet. “Now.”
I drove like a bat out of hell to the hospital where Sebastian was waiting with the doctor we paid. Des was all prepped, and they needed Destini to finish the process. I kissed her one last time and ushered her off to get ready. At first, she turned to leave, but then she faced me again and whispered, “No matter what happens, I love you Diego Salazar.”
I almost laughed but said, “I loved you first.”
She smiled and disappeared behind the double swinging doors. I said another prayer for her survival, but I should have thought about mine. A couple of hours later, when Destini was out of surgery, Mama came barreling down the hall way with nothing but fire in her eyes.
“You have my brother, Diego?” She spat out.
“He was going to kill her only chance.” I stood up, ready for the war that was about to begin. “I couldn’t have that. I told you she was mine.”
“And you’re mine. My oldest son and you defy me and bring your brothers into it?” She stood in my space. “You were willing to call war over pussy.”
The heat in the room seemed to settle right inside our little bubble. The cloud of thunder seemed to join it as well.
“Don’t you ever refer to her like that!” I barked in Mama’s face.
The older woman took a step back with wide eyes and a recognition that unnerved my core. Mama blinked and then she exhaled.
“You look just like your father when he told his parents he was marrying me. Defied them to their face, and I loved him for it. Always did because I knew that he’d always have my back. I hope this,” she paused, “Destini is that for you. Enough to cause war between your own familia.”
She tsked with her teeth and tongue.
“Jesus, I hope she’s that for you. I’ll kill her myself, if she’s not.”
Then, she turned and left.
“Brother, what the fuck was that?” Sebastian moved towards me after Mama was gone from sight.
“Don’t know, but I’m ready for whatever it is.”
“I think she just gave you a pass,” he surmised.
“We’ll see,” I answered before I sat back down. “We’ll see.”
The nurse, ShaRon, came to check on Destini, but Sebastian saw her first and wouldn't let her pass without talking to him. One would think after what he'd just seen, he knew that following up after a woman was treading on thin ice with the Salazar family. But apparently, like me, he had seen a girl that he wanted, and she was standing right in front of him.
"You know, I don't just fuck 'em and leave 'em, right?" He started off the conversation with her. "It's not that simple."
"I don't really care," she replied with feign acknowledgement.
"Well, you should." He continued to stand in her way. "I've no room in my arsenal for relationships. We agree on a one night and then we move on. I don't sleep with the same woman twice, and we both get what we want. Now, ShaRon, what do you want?"
The woman was affected, and any red-blooded man could see her cheeks heat up in a way that let him know that he more than caused a reaction. Despite her physical tells, she straightened her back and said, "You can't give me what I want. It's not really in you to do so, therefore, I'll pass Mr. Suave."
Sebastian hadn't expected that, like at all. Women usually flocked to him and whenever he asked what they want, they almost preened. I’m sure my brother assumed many women never were asked what they wanted; but, he always did because in the bedroom, he could more than deliver. So, he always claimed to us.
"Mr. Suave?" He smirked, "Tell you what, give me a night and I'll do whatever you want me to. Anything. You name it."
Her head shook as if what he was saying was preposterous. ShaRon all but choked with laughter as she thought about what the man was proposing.
"You know what's so funny about your overrated dick," she sneered. "It's that it gets hard, squirts out some cum, and goes flaccid again. Just like you. You present this hard veneer, but after the fuck and fluff, you go back to being the weak man you are. I'm not interested in your dick, that tongue, or that gorgeous smile. They are fleeting. Unless you know how I can raise one-point-five million dollars to buy my little sister back from a human trafficking ring, then you have nothing to offer me. So for the last goddamn time, leave me the fuck alone and let me take care of my patient."
She pushed past him and this time he let her. My heart seemed to stop along with my breathing as I processed the words she had sneered at him. Sebastian’s eyes went dark as he probably felt the same way I did. Little did ShaRon know, but she ignited something in him at that moment. The man was many things, and he did have one-point-five million dollars and more resources than she knew.
I was willing to bet that he’d take on her challenge because at the end of the day, he was a Salazar. We did not condone trafficking of any sort and that’s how we did shit.
It had been three months since Destini's surgery. She had all but fully recovered and was trying to run marathons around Cuba. The woman's new found take on life meant that she was not only alive but living her life to the fullest. She dragged me to every place on that list, and I went willingly each time.
Mama still wasn’t speaking to me, and Uncle was more than pissed. However, after he punched me at a local bar and then bought me a beer, we were cool. He had no words about his sisters but time would tell. It always did, and I stayed on the ready.
THE END
The next episode will include Sebastian and ShaRon’s story.
ABOUT XYLA TURNER
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bsp; Xyla Turner is a USA Today Bestselling and award-winning romance author. She was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York and is a dedicated educator. Outside of reading, Xyla likes to spend time with her family and travel as much as her schedule permits.
Xyla is a proud member of Romance Writers of America, the New York and Cultural, Interracial, Multicultural Chapter. She is also the founder of Author Go. Join the movement: www.author-go.com
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March: In Her Shoes
F Student: FRU Series
Undertones
10:80: Line of Duty Series
10-99: Line of Duty Series
By Chance, No Choice: Stetson Series
BOMBSHELL
Across the Tracks
Power of the Pen
Extraction
Just Ride: Legion of Guardians MC (eBook & Audio)
Let’s Ride: Legion of Guardians MC
Just Right: Legion of Guardians MC
Just Dream: Legion of Guardians MC
Under Further Review: The Pro Series
The Chase, Part I & II: The Double XX Series
Back Court: The Pro Series
Love Under Attack: FRCC Series
Bookstore Chronicles I, II, III
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BAD THINGS GOOD KILLERS DO
S.W.FRANK
WARNING TO READERS!
This story contains explicit adult material and graphic violence. Readers who are victims of abuse, sexual assault or molestation might be triggered by subject matter mentioned in the fictional story.
To the Boss Readers of Indie Literature!
S.W. Frank
“History isn't just the story of bad people doing bad things. It's quite as much a story of people trying to do good things. But somehow, something goes wrong.”
–C.S. Lewis
GLOSSARY
Russian
Bullshit- Bred sivoy kobyly!
Ukrainian
Hi!Prīvіt!
Good morning!Dobrogo ranku!
Good afternoon!Dobrogo dni͡a!
Good evening!Dobrīĭ vechіr!
Welcome! (To greet someone) Laskavo prosīmo!
Hello my friend!Zdorov buv, druzhe mіĭ!
How are you? (Friendly)I͡Ak tī pozhīvaєsh?
How are you? (Polite) I͡Ak vī pozhīvaєte?
I'm fine, thank you!U mene vse garazd, di͡akui͡u!
Good Dobre
Not so good Ne tak dobre
I missed you (masculine)I͡A sumuvav za toboi͡u
I missed you (feminine I͡A sumuvala za toboi͡u
What's new? Shcho novogo?
Nothing new Nіchogo novogo
Thank you (very much)! (Duzhe) di͡akui͡u!
Come in! (or enter!) Zakhod'te!
Farewell Expressions Frazī proshchanni͡a
Have a nice day!Us'ogo naĭkrashchogo!
Good night!Na dobranіch!
Good night and sweet dreams! Na dobranіch і solodkīkh snіv!
See you later! Pobachīmos'!
See you soon! Do skoroї zustrіchі!
See you tomorrow!Do zavtra!
Good bye! Do pobachenni͡a!
Have a good trip! Shchaslīvoї dorogī!
I will be right back!Skoro povernus'!
Good luck! Nekhaĭ shchastīt'!
Happy birthday! Z dnem narodzhenni͡a!
PROLOGUE
The teen’s Grandpapa’s walking stick leaned in a corner of the bedroom as a reminder of his loving presence. The Old Man carved it himself with great care when his knees started to fail—refusing to be a burden to his family. Birds perched atop the point of several crucifixes to display his artistic craftsmanship. “I made one for an old friend as well. He’s changed since our days in the police force. Yes, Viktor Alexi is not the man he once was. But, that has not lessened my friendship,” the teen’s Grandpapa once said.
The teen’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the infamous name Viktor Alexi—a criminal the media implied was responsible for many political killings. But the teen’s Grandpapa, whom he affectionately called Didus, was an interesting and complex person. The Old Man taught his grandson skills that his parents forbade—like shooting and combat.
Two years since an Old Man’s passing, the teen quietly mourned—and it is a long time for a boy who found his Grandpapa understood him best. Maybe, it is because they shared a birthday and a love for noir films.
The youth rolled onto his side coughing and reached for a tissue. He blew his nose and the force caused the edges to flap.
“Okay Ex, we are leaving to drop off your brother. I need to collect items from my office and then I will be home to make your special cake,” his Mama said from the doorway. She walked into the bedroom and kissed his forehead. “You are hot. If the fever does not break, we must visit the doctor.” She caressed his bed hair. “Happy Birthday…I am sure Didus is smiling at you. I know you miss him very much.”
“I do.” Ex admitted.
She smiled. “You were very close with Didus, I know my love. We all miss him.”
Ex nodded.
The boy’s Mama lifted his chin. “Your Didus was a wonderful person. The reason we returned to Kiev was because he missed his homeland. Papa and I wanted him to live out his days in the place he loved. Many in his generation have done the same—those who were lucky to survive.” Sadness stole across her face. “I must go, but I will be back soon.” Then she hurried to the door and shouted for her other son. “Hurry Mata or you will be late for school”
She marched out of sight and Matas appeared with a cheery smile. His chubby cheeks glowed with an adolescent’s vigor. “You are lucky. If I were home alone, I would eat and play video games.”
Ex wiggled up in bed. The red-rimmed eyes belied his misery. “Do you want to trade places?”
“No, today we have a trip.”
“Matas! Come!” Their Papa bellowed from below.
The twelve year-old grinned at his brother, three years his senior. The top corner of his lip curled comically. “Mama and Papa are working from home today. I overheard them last night.” Then he laughed. “Happy Birthday!”
“Get out of here.” Ex laughed which resulted in a coughing fit.
Matas pulled a face and then ran off and bounded downstairs. Ex heard the front door slam and he climbed out of bed to walk barefoot to the window, sniffling irritably. He coughed into the crook of his arm, smirking as Matas opened the back door and dived in the seat like Superman.
The car door closed and the rear brake lights flashed. Ex put his hand on the window when Matas turned to wave. Then a deafening explosion shattered the quiet morning. The blast sent Ex flying over the bed and shrapnel careening atop him. He groaned as he crawled to his feet, pulling several shards of glass from his hand and shook from the ringing in his ears. He darted to the hall, wincing at the throbbing in his head, adrenaline rushing through his young body and fear.
He navigated the stairs although woozy, counting as he descended to calm a swelling panic.
“One—two—three—four—five—six.”
There were twenty stairs and two at the entry which took an eternity to conquer. But, he did and rushed to the flaming car. The growing inferno brightened a predawn sky. He gripped hold of a hot metal handle, released when it scorched, thought of his Bra and refused to give up. “Matas!”
The pain ripped him to pieces, yet he persisted, yanking on the door in an attempt to free his brother. Blood crackled with glass, and he stared in horror at Matas aflame minus a limb. “Matas…I will ge
t you out. You will see! One—two—three—count Matas—count like Mama says when you cannot sleep. Do it Matas—one—two!”
Ex viewed the sky when out of nowhere he was tackled. He twirled as someone forced him away from the vehicle and taken to the ground. Out of control and fueled by love he rallied, determined to fight. Yet, every attempt to break free seemed an impotent desire. To perish with his family, that was his wish, too. People restrained him; a difficult task due to Ex’s strength.
Good people sought to douse a teen’s grief. But, who really can stop a storm fueled by woe? Well-intentioned neighbors tried.
“Matas!” Ex cried as he bled profusely. A deluge of tears emptied the nice parts of him that day. Witnessing grotesque death can leave an emotional scar which hardens over time.
Ex wondered why he received a macabre birthday gift. Was he really a good person or bad inside? Perhaps, that was why?
ONE
FIFTEEN YEARS LATER.
Tavas Ogen reclined in the sunken Jacuzzi, stretching his arms out on the tile as he inspected the bikini clad Hostess placing towels on the bench where his briefcase rested. His gaze followed her bottom until she departed. His eyeballs rolled from corner to corner, finding the amenities in the private club below his standards. However, this was the meet-up location to have a private audience with a Contractor known as Didus. He complied with the instructions, stripped and remained in the Jacuzzi.
He drummed his fingers, wondering if he’d been played for a fool. By now his penis likely shriveled into a raisin.
The door opened and Tavas leaned forward at the arrival of a man in dark shades. He wore black clothing and his skin had the touch of sunrays unlike Tavas’ ghostly pallor. He had expected a senior, after all Didus means Grandpa in his language. “Didus?”