Taking a drink, he says, “I get what you’re saying. Let’s see, how do I word this?” His brows pinch together. “You’re different from most girls I know.” He shrugs. “Down to Earth. This type of environment is comfortable for you.” His eyes drift to the stage. “Look.”
I follow his gaze, spotting woman holding a microphone in her hand. A song by Beyonce plays over the speakers. When the microphone meets her lips, she belts out the words with confidence.
“Dear Lord that’s awful!” he says.
I flick my eyes back to Sean. His fingers are in his ears, and his brown eyes twinkle. “Get your fingers out of your ears.” I swat him. I couldn’t imagine if I was in her place and saw someone doing that. The process of getting up there alone is frightening enough.
“What?” He laughs, taking them out. “It’s pure torture!”
“You wanted to come here, so you better be nice.” I finish my drink and raise my brows at him, showing I mean business.
“Fine.” He spots my empty glass. “You want another?”
I hold out a hand. “No thanks. But I’d really love some water,” I say, already feeling a little tipsy.
The waitress appears at our table just in time. “You ready for another one?” she asks, only looking at Sean.
This time he actually glances at her. “Sure, and don’t forget the lovely lady over here. She would like some water,” he says, gesturing toward me.
She turns and makes her way around the bar, never once acknowledging me.
A man takes over the microphone, trying to channel Ed Sheeran. Sadly, he isn’t any better than the last. Sean is on his best behavior, keeping his hands on the table, which only makes it harder to hold back my laugh.
“Okay, I’ll admit it. Maybe they need a little practice, but who are we to judge them?”
He sips on his beer. “You’re right. We shouldn’t,” he says, grinning. “Tell me you’re having a good time.”
“I’m having a very good time,” I tell him, smiling back.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” I ask, confused.
“For saying yes,” he murmurs, looking at me the same way he had done earlier. “You deserve some fun every now and then.” Leaning in close, he gently brushes his thumb over my cheek.
I swallow. “Thank you for not giving up on me,” I say uncomfortably.
“Go out with me again.”
My stomach sinks, knowing I’m about to hurt him. “Sean, I can’t.”
“I won’t take no for an answer.”
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Let me take you out. We’ll go somewhere extravagant next time.”
“No, it doesn’t have to do with that. Just let me explain.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re coming with me.”
My eyes widen. “Sean!” I say louder, getting his full attention. “Will you be quiet and listen?” I look around, wishing I didn’t have to talk so loud to be heard over the music.
He nods, finally encouraging me to talk.
I drop my gaze to the table, not wanting to see the hurt in his eyes. “Luke and I, we … sort of patched things up,” I mutter, chewing on my lip. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you. You’ve always been …” I trail off, searching for the right words.
“Why’d he leave you? What was his excuse?” he asks, sounding pissed.
“Huh?” My eyes flick up to his. I heard him, but I don’t know how to answer without making the situation worse than it already is.
“What was his excuse?” he asks again.
“I wish I could help you understand,” I say, holding back a rush of tears. He’s helped me though several months of pain and rejection, and this is what I give him back.
“Are you crying?” He sighs.
“Yes, I just don’t want to lose you as a friend. You mean too much to me. I don’t like that I’m hurting you.” I sniffle, tearing apart the napkin that was put there for my drink.
“Stop worrying about me, Reese. I’ll be fine. We’ll always be friends. Worry about yourself right now.” His jaw clenches. “Whether you believe it or not, the guy is playing you. How can you not see that?” His brows bunch together, and he grabs my hand, running his thumb over the back. “Did he give you an explanation?”
“Yes, he did, but I don’t want to talk about that right now. Please don’t give me a hard time about this,” I beg. “I need your support.”
“I know, and I’m trying, but don’t forget who wiped away your tears the last few months, while that jerk off was out doing whatever.”
Meeting his eyes, I say, “You have every reason to be upset.”
Leaning in closer, he replies, “I’m not going anywhere. When you need me, I’ll be here.”
I didn’t miss the when in his statement, but I know he’s just watching out for me. “Thank you. That really means a lot.
“Don’t mention it,” he replies, but I can tell he’s still upset.
We continue to chat through another hour of karaoke before Sean eventually calls us a cab, refusing to let me pay for anything. Luckily, our conversation steered away from the subject of my relationship with Luke, and the rest of the night we had a really good time. It’s always that way with him.
“Luke, get up.”
Opening my eyes, I see Warren standing over me. I’d fallen asleep on my couch with the gun in my hand. I wasn’t sure if those douchebags would come back and try to finish the job. After Andrew left, I drank the rest of the twelve-pack and passed out in my underwear. Lowering my weapon, I search the room for Chance. “How the hell did you get in here?”
He swings his thumb over his shoulder. “Door was unlocked. Get some clothes on. We need to go,” he says, tipping his head toward the hall.
Feeling like I’d been hit by a truck, I rest my elbows on my knees, squinting my eyes shut. “Where the hell is my dog?”
“Haven’t seen him,” he replies, eyes roaming the interior of the house. Empty beer cans lie across the table.
As I stand, a wave of nausea hits me, and I sit back down, pressing my fingers to my temples. “Shit. I feel sick. Where are we going?”
“To meet the guys,” he answers, lifting his chin. “They’re waiting for us.”
“What time is it?” I flinch, accidently rubbing the wound on my head.
“Time to put your pants on. Question me in the car.”
“Where the hell’s my dog?” I ask him again, ready to pummel somebody.
“I already told you! How the hell would I know? Will you get off the couch already?”
“Stop hovering over me like a mother hen. I’ll get up when I’m ready to get up,” I snap. My head is fucking killing me.
“How much did you drink?”
“Too much,” I answer, standing up and making my way into the kitchen, still searching for Chance. When I spot him on the patio, I let him in, and he sniffs Warren out.
Warren crouches down, petting him with both hands. “You remember me. Don’t-cha boy?”
Chance responds with a few sloppy licks to the face. Warren laughs and wipes the slobber away, then stares at me while I stare at him. “For the love of God, would you put on some clothes?” Standing up, he leans against the counter.
Grabbing a bottle of ibuprofen out of the medicine cabinet, I pop some into my mouth and swallow. “Never took you for a dog person,” I tell him.
He shrugs. “Never had a problem with them.”
“Didn’t seem that way in the desert.” He hadn’t been thrilled about bringing Chance in the car after we found him.
“Maybe he’s growing on me.”
“Uh huh.” Leaving him with my dog, I tread toward my room to throw on some clothes. Ten minutes later we’re driving down the highway in a Yukon I’ve never seen him drive before. I assume it’s probably stolen.
“Why’d you pick me up?” I ask. Not that I would have driven—or answered any calls. Luckily, my headache is easing up a little.
/> “Glenn gave me orders,” he replies.
I raise my brows. “To come to my house without a heads-up? Where’s Marcus?” They always ride together.
“He’s with Glenn,” he says, looking straight ahead. “Something happened tonight. Glenn wants to discuss it.”
Of course he does. “Discuss it?” I ask, glancing at the clock. “It couldn’t wait ‘til the sun came up? Does the man ever sleep?” I rake a hand through my hair.
“I doubt it,” Warren replies. “If he does, he keeps his eyes open.”
“What is it we’re discussing exactly?” I ask, answering my own question as soon as the words leave my mouth. Valdez.
“We’re about to find out,” he says, glancing at me sideways before gazing back at the road. “Say your prayers,” he adds, shaking his head. “Shit’s about to go down tonight. That’s all I’m sayin’.”
I stare out the window. “That’s comforting.” We’re driving in unfamiliar territory. Everything looks secluded.
“You sobered up a little?” Warren asks, cocking a brow.
“Actually, I am.”
“Good. You’re gonna need your head for this.”
My gaze snaps to his. “There something you wanna tell me?” Taking an exit off of the highway, we head south. I roll down the window for fresh air, nervous about what I’m walking into.
“I already did,” he says, turning off the road, heading into the desert. He checks his GPS, though I doubt anything with a heartbeat could live out here.
“Could you elaborate a bit?”
He makes a right turn. “Afraid I can’t.” Driving straight ahead, we climb over some rocky hills, before a worn-down shack comes into view. A few figures stand behind it.
Turning off the headlights, he kills the engine. “Like I said, say your prayers.” He opens the door and gets out. I do the same, walking through the desert in the dark. The sound of the gravel crunching beneath my feet is heightened by our surroundings. We’re in the middle of nowhere, and my eyes are still trying to adjust.
A flashlight shines in our direction, allowing us to see our way around the shed. I spot four other figures gathered together, recognizing my father in the middle, his taller frame standing out.
“Great place you found here. You going to tell me what’s going on?” All the men are visibly armed, each one with their eyes on me. Two of them I’ve never met before—one of them tall, the other short. The only light comes from the flashlight in Marcus’s hand, and it’s aimed at the ground.
“Son.” My father grins, stepping toward me. “Always the last to arrive, though I’m glad you were able to make it. I hope this wasn’t too much of an inconvenience for you,” he says, meaning the opposite.
“Maybe next time I could have a little more notice.”
“I’ll take note of that,” he says, turning around with his hands clasped behind his back. “A close friend of mine was arrested tonight.” He pauses. “He will most likely spend the rest of his life in prison.”
My eyes flick to the rest of the men. There isn’t an ounce of surprise on their faces, which leads me to believe this speech is solely meant for me. So why the hell are we in the middle of nowhere at this time of night?
I watch as he paces back and forth with pursed lips. “This close friend of yours … have I met him?”
“The two of you met the other day,” he replies. “Sergio Valdez.” His brown eyes peer into mine.
Trying to look disappointed, I say, “I’m sorry, but I’m curious. Why tell us here?” I glance around in the darkness.
“I’m getting to that,” he replies, stepping toward me. “Unfortunately, Valdez had a leak in his circle.” He sighs. “All these years he’d been extremely careful …” He looks at me appraisingly. “But one small mistake cost him everything.” Silence. “We can’t afford to make mistakes.” His eyes flick over his shoulder. “Men.”
The two men I don’t recognize leave their positions and enter the shed. Marcus shines the flashlight on the haggard building. The fingers of my right hand twitch over my gun. “What’s going on?”
A deviant grin slides across my father’s face. “Once I found out about Valdez’s arrest, I made a few calls.” He lifts his chin. “Years ago, I’d learned a lesson the hard way. It’s important to have connections wherever you may need them, especially in the type of businesses I run. You understand?”
I nod.
“Some may call them informants, others may call them leaks. There are several names you could call them …” Pausing, he cocks a brow. “Isn’t that right, Drew?”
No. Turning at the waist, I see the two men dragging a person out of the shed. Marcus shines the flashlight on his face, and my pulse spikes. It’s Andrew. He’s barely conscious and covered in blood. My hands clench into fists.
“Hold him up,” my father tells them. Andrew’s too weak to stand on his own. Blood drips from his face, as his head hangs in defeat. Those assholes have been torturing him. Warren watches my reaction after the men grab Andrew from underneath his shoulders and lift him up. Andrew flinches, moaning in pain. He hasn’t made eye contact with me, but he knows where I am.
My father steps toward him, bending down so they’re at eye level. “I said, isn’t that right, Drew?” he taunts.
A small chuckle escapes from Andrew’s throat, then he spits in my father’s face. Marcus points the light at the saliva sliding down Glenn’s cheek. He wipes it away with fury in his gaze, smacking Andrew with the back of his hand. Then one by one the men take their turns kicking him—the shorter one kicking him in the head. Marcus snickers behind me. I can’t watch this anymore.
“Enough!” my father says sharply at the moment I nearly snap. Andrew is writhing on the ground, groaning in pain. “We came here for a reason,” he states, eyes flicking to me. “Luke, consider this a lesson.”
“In what? Torture?” I hiss. “Look at the man,” I motion toward his broken body.
Narrowing his gaze on me, he says, “Do not interrupt me.”
I’m not sure how much longer I can hold back my rage.
“It has been brought to my attention that our new partner over here,” he snarls, “is working for the DEA.”
Furrowing my brows, I ask, “Who told you that? How can you be sure?”
“I have my sources, son, and I can assure you, they’re all credible. I won’t mention any names.”
“That’s disappointing.” I pause, thinking. “What do you say we leave him to rot—head home and grab some shuteye?”
“You know that isn’t an option.”
I gaze at all the men. “The DEA could be watching us. Are you willing to take that risk?”
They snicker along with my father.
“You don’t think we’ve checked into that?” His eyes are filled with amusement. “Clearly you’ve underestimated me, son. He needs to be terminated,” he says, flicking his gaze to Andrew. He places his hands on my shoulders. “Finish the job. Before daylight to be most efficient.”
“If we leave him, he’ll be dead by morning. He’s nearly dead already,” I point.
“You’re forgetting about the evidence.”
“We’ll come back in the morning—burn the body.”
He gets in my face. “Execute him, Luke, or I’ll do it myself, and you can spend the rest of your life killing the women and children who get in our way. Is that what you’d prefer?”
“Of course not!” I snap.
“That’s what I thought,” he says, taking a few steps back. “Now hurry up. We’ve wasted enough time.”
I swallow, slowly lifting my gun to aim at Andrew. The rest of the men are clutching their AKs in their hands, as they watch with stoic faces.
“Shoot him!” Glenn hisses, losing his patience.
Marcus stands behind me, breathing down the back of my neck.
My jaw clenches. “What the hell, man!” Headbutting him, I jab him in the gut with an elbow. He bowls over, and I snatch his AK, slamming it int
o his face.
Glenn shouts behind me as Marcus goes down. “We don’t have time for this shit! Fuck it!” I hear a click.
Spinning around, I find my father pointing a gun at Andrew, ready to shoot. I aim, then pull the trigger right as his gun goes off. Glenn’s head disintegrates. Diving to the ground, I crawl closer to Andrew, all while getting shot at.
“Andrew!” I lie beside him, losing feeling in one of my legs. A sharp pain hits my shoulder. I flinch, as I try to lift my gun. “Glenn’s gone now,” I say, unsure if he can hear me. “She’s going to be okay.” It’s getting harder to breathe. “Don’t die on me, buddy.” I’m crying silent tears before the world fades away, and I’m sucked into the darkness.
By the time we arrive at the hospital, I’m confused and distraught. Until this moment I hadn’t realized how much I want and need my father in my life. Now it looks like I’m going to lose him again. This time, though, it’ll be for forever. Our relationship has been a complicated one, but he promised that he’d changed, and we were on the mend.
We’ve spent more time with each other these last few months than in my entire life. He’s become more than a father; he’s a friend. In the beginning, I put up a wall because I was scared—protecting myself from his rejection—but now I realize that I became the rejecter. I wipe the wetness from my face while we scurry over to the nurse’s station in the ICU.
My cell buzzes in my pocket, my hands trembling when I pull it out and see Pam’s number flash across the screen. Relief washes over me, but I’ll call her back later. For a moment I was terrified the call was from the hospital, informing me that my father had passed away, and we were too late.
I pace the room, worrying my lip between my teeth, trying to understand what might have put him in this situation. What happened to you, Dad? They said you were shot? Who would do this? Was it an accident? Is there something you’ve been keeping from me? I cringe at the thought that it might not have been an accident.
My phone buzzes again, and I ignore it. Pam will have to wait. If my dad can hold on a little longer, I’ll try and get the truth from him and tell him all the things I’ve been too prideful to say—that I love him, I forgive him, and that everybody makes mistakes. I want to tell him I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being such a stubborn brat, and I truly believe he’s changed for the better. I want to thank him for finally being the father I need, and tell him I don’t hold it against him anymore for when he wasn’t. I’ve forgiven him. I forgave him a long time ago. There’s so much I still need to say. It can’t be time for him to go yet.
Resisting Ryann Page 12