I gripped my gun tightly at my side, ready to aim at whoever the fuck was daring to come into my house when I was reeling from the events that had happened today. My finger itched against the hard metal trigger, begging for release. I hoped that it was Emilio. In that moment, I didn’t even care if he shot me as well. As long as I got a bullet in him first. He needed to bleed for what he had done. For everything that he had done.
But it wasn’t Emilio. It wasn’t Dornan.
It was John.
Of all the people I had expected to see on my doorstep, John had been the last one. I loved him. And up until that moment, I had truly believed that he and I were the only two that were aware of that fact. Tears pricking at my eyes, I stared at Guillermo.
Could I really trust him?
Was this a test?
Was Guillermo in with Emilio?
I couldn’t begin to imagine what he was thinking or who he was allied with, so I turned my attention back to John. He entered my apartment, closing the door behind him and standing silently in front of me. He was a sight to behold – ripped jeans and a tight black shirt that showed off his muscles to fine definition. He looked hot, not just in the sexual sense, but because sweat was beading on his forehead, his shirt sticking to his chest.
‘Did you run here?’ I asked. Did you run here? What kind of stupid-ass question was that?
His expression was grave as he looked at the gun I gripped tightly by my side. ‘Heard you weren’t doing too well. You know me. I can’t help myself.’
I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.
CHAPTER SIX
JOHN
He’d been smoking on the back porch when the message came through from Guillermo.
Get here now. M is going fucking crazy.
John had peered into the house to see Juliette talking on the phone, like she always did these days. Caroline had bailed a couple of days earlier, and John was beyond taking to the streets of LA to look for his drug-addled wife. His stolen moments with Mariana had made him realise that the only person who could really help Caroline was Caroline herself.
Plus, a very tiny part of him – the part that he liked to pretend didn’t exist – imagined a day when the police would turn up and inform him that his wife had finally taken too much heroin, or crossed the wrong dealer, and ended up dead in a ditch.
One could always dream, right?
‘Julie!’ John hollered at his daughter through the screen door, making sure to hold his cigarette away from the mesh so that smoke didn’t seep into the house. ‘I’m going out for a little while. You okay here?’
‘Yeah, Daddy,’ Juliette’s voice filtered back to him. ‘I’m on the phone!’
John rolled his eyes. She was on the phone to that kid again. Long-lost son of Dornan. The kid who’d had to discover his own mother dead in a bathroom covered in her blood, before meeting his father – her murderer – for the very first time. A terrible feeling swept over John as he locked the door. They lived on a quiet street, safe enough, but you could never be too careful when you were the president of the Gypsy Brothers MC.
Truth be told, that sinking feeling he lived with these days wasn’t because he was worried about the neighbourhood he lived in. It was the constant recall of the casual manner Dornan had displayed in the wake of murdering Stephanie, the woman he’d once loved above everything else.
It was the abject terror that Dornan would find out that John was fucking Mariana. That John loved Mariana.
It was the way his imagination presented Mariana’s death to him in countless grisly ways.
John checked the locks three times before he felt confident enough to leave his daughter alone.
***
Ten minutes later, Guillermo was letting him into Mariana’s apartment in Santa Monica.
‘He told me you weren’t yourself,’ John said, hoping those words were benign enough to appease her.
‘Not myself,’ Mariana snapped, her eyes flashing with what looked like rage. Oh, shit. He’d never, not in ten years, seen her like this. Mariana Rodriguez was poised, she was controlled, she was almost annoyingly detached unless you pressed her in just the right way. Usually up against a wall, with three fingers and a tongue. That was the thing that inevitably made her icy exterior melt away, the thing that made her turn to butter under John’s touch.
But he could hardly fuck the rage out of his little spitfire in front of Dornan’s lackey. Guillermo didn’t know about their relationship, and John very much wanted to keep it that way. Keeping his head attached to his body was high on his priority list, and if Guillermo ratted him out to Dornan, he’d likely cut John’s head off and have it mounted on the wall at the clubhouse as a trophy. Disturbingly, he and Mariana had spoken at length – more than once – about how Dornan would choose to kill them if he ever found out about them. Decapitation always seemed to be at the forefront of their predictions.
Shaking that image from his mind, John focused on the woman he loved. She was shaking, pacing, tapping a gun against her leg. In some terrifying way, she reminded him very much of Dornan.
She looked like she’d finally lost her mind.
Maybe she had.
‘Will somebody please tell me what the fuck is going on?’ John asked, making sure to use his pleasant voice. Unlike Dornan, who liked to ask questions with his fists, John always opted for tact and friendliness as a first resort. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it just bought an extra five minutes before shit got crazy and fists became essential.
‘A dead baby,’ Mariana was muttering as she paced. ‘He killed a baby!’
John glanced at Guillermo, remembering the day just months ago when he’d come back to the apartment to check on Mariana and found her in a pool of blood, miscarrying Dornan’s baby, thanks to those very same fists Dornan used to fight his way through life. Seemed Mariana had argued with Dornan about how unhinged he’d become, and earned herself a beating and a brush with death as thanks for her concern.
Was that what she was talking about now? Her dead baby?
John saw that Mariana’s finger had crept back onto the trigger of her gun, and that was dangerous. He’d seen grown men blow holes clean through their feet by accident before, just because they’d been too itchy with a trigger as they bounced about.
‘Hey,’ John said, his voice sharper this time as he tried to snap Mariana out of her trance. ‘Ana. What’s happening?’
Mariana glared at Guillermo, who, for once, wasn’t cracking jokes. And that was deeply troubling to John.
‘Guillermo?’ John said. ‘Want to fill me in?’
Guillermo’s eyes darted about the apartment, first to John, then Mariana, then to a cardboard package sitting on the kitchen countertop.
‘That something I need to be worried about?’ John asked, suddenly alarmed. He’d seen his fair share of suspicious packages. Severed fingers. Dirty bombs. You never knew what the new day was going to bring when you were a Gypsy Brother.
‘I need to get out of here,’ Mariana said, that damned gun still in her hand. She wielded it like it was a lifeline.
‘Guillermo!’ John yelled. ‘Fucking talk!’
Guillermo cleared his throat. ‘Boss man sent a package today. For her birthday.’
John used the distraction to step nearer to Mariana, closing his hand over hers and squeezing tightly. ‘Gun, please,’ he said, feeling her bones crunch under his grip. He didn’t want to hurt her, not one little hair on her head, but more than that, he didn’t want her to shoot him by accident. Mariana might have been small – five two to his six one – but she was strong. It took some serious force for her to concede, dropping her grip on the gun so that it fell neatly into John’s other hand.
She stared at him with what looked like bitter rage. Funnily enough, it didn’t make her look any less beautiful. Her dark blue eyes were like twin storms on the horizon, threatening to destroy everything in their path.
John rolled his eyes, emptying the bullets from her gu
n and pocketing them. The gun went in the back of his jeans, where it rested in the small of his back.
‘This better not be a bomb,’ he said, shoving past Guillermo and Mariana to pick up the box on the counter. He shook it gently, surprised at the sound it made. It was like someone had filled it with gravel.
He wasn’t entirely surprised when Mariana snatched the box from his hands.
‘Don’t,’ she said.
‘Tell me what it is, and I won’t have to,’ he countered.
They stared off for a moment until Guillermo’s voice broke through the tense silence.
‘They’re ashes. Emilio delivered a body this morning. A fucking kid.’
John stepped back as if he’d just touched a live wire. He immediately felt regret at having shaken the box so casually. His palms burned accusingly, glowering hot with shame.
‘What? Whose kid?’
Mariana slid the box back onto the counter, the mention of a dead child apparently having snapped her out of whatever psychotic break she’d been experiencing.
‘Remember the woman I told you about? She was meant to be delivered to a buyer,’ Mariana said, ‘but she was pregnant. She gave birth in the truck. It was the night Dornan was shot. We took the baby to the hospital, the same hospital where Dornan ended up after – well, you know.’
John remembered all too well. The night Dornan had been shot by a cop, a vengeance shooting after Mariana had killed the cop’s partner, Murphy. The guy had been dead for months and he was still causing fucking problems.
John nodded, feeling his teeth grinding in his mouth. It was as if a dark cloud had settled over the room, and everyone was stuck in its shadow. Something was very, very fucked up, and John wasn’t sure if he wanted the whole story now that he’d heard the teaser reel.
‘Emilio knew what we’d done, how we’d saved the baby and taken him to the ER. He found me at the hospital, watching the baby through the nursery window. He threatened me. Said if I ever betrayed the family in any way, he’d take the baby and . . .’ She trailed off, her eyes lingering on the cardboard box.
John’s stomach squeezed painfully, and all the air went out of his lungs as if somebody had hit him with a baseball bat. He glanced at Guillermo in horror, and then back at Mariana.
‘Do they think you’ve betrayed them?’ John asked, choosing his words carefully. He kept giving Guillermo surreptitious glances, wondering if the guy was even remotely trustworthy.
‘Don’t look at me, man,’ Guillermo said, shaking his head. ‘I ain’t no baby killer.’
‘I didn’t say you were,’ John snapped.
Mariana’s eyes darted towards John, and in that moment, he saw the uncertainty that maybe somebody knew about them. The moment passed between them silently, swiftly, until John blinked and it was gone.
‘I haven’t done anything,’ Mariana whispered.
‘Apart from take out Emilio’s best inside man.’
John and Mariana both snapped their attention to Guillermo, who held his palms up in a sign of submission. ‘Hey, whoa, you all think I’m some dumb fuck, but I live with her.’ He pointed at Mariana. ‘I was ninety per cent sure one of you had something to do with it. Can’t say I’m disappointed. It’s been peaceful these past months, without that Murphy motherfucker following you around all the time.’
John clenched his knuckles until they made several faint popping sounds. Guillermo shifted on his feet uneasily, glancing down at John’s balled hands.
‘You can trust me, Prez,’ Guillermo said. ‘Six months that asshole’s been missing, and I ain’t said a word to nobody. This situation?’ Guillermo gestured to Mariana, to the apartment they were standing in. ‘It suits me. This girl?’ He put his hand on Mariana’s shoulder. ‘I like this girl. Not like that. She’s like a sister to me. Like a daughter.’
‘The same way Dornan’s a brother? The same way I’m your brother?’
Guillermo chuckled, but there was no joy in the sound he made. ‘Man, you know my deal. I’m a hired fucking thug. I wear the patch, I look out for my boys, but I would shoot any one of them, you included, if she needed me to.’
John felt his eyebrows practically hit the roof. He hadn’t known that Guillermo could speak that many consecutive sentences, let alone have an opinion on something that didn’t involve free pussy or cheap beer.
‘How’d the . . . package get here, anyway?’
‘Emilio called me this morning,’ Mariana said quietly. She was as removed now as she had been fiery, not five minutes earlier. ‘He told me there was something waiting outside the front door for me, and I knew he was outside watching. I had this weird feeling that he was going to shoot me or something. But instead, I found this big box.’ She was gesturing with her hands the size of the box. ‘I brought it inside and locked the door again, and I opened it. It was a suitcase. And inside . . .’ Her chin wobbled, tears welling in her eyes. ‘When I saw the box sitting outside, I thought . . . I thought it was a computer. To replace my old one. I didn’t think–’ She made a little gasping sound, holding her chest with her hand. She looked so young when she was terrified. She looked like the girl Dornan had first ushered into his office ten years ago, instead of the steely woman she’d been forced to become.
John stood there helplessly. All he wanted to do was kill somebody. Rip them apart, limb by limb, until this pressure in his chest went away. This throb in his skull. This desperation that sat in his stomach like lead. He’d always known what kind of men he worked for – was controlled by – but this? This was something else. In that moment, John’s thoughts flashed to his own death, and part of him knew there was almost no chance they were going to escape with their lives. It was just that cut and dried, that fucking sure. He loved this woman more than he’d ever loved anyone, and as she wept in front of him he could already see how the blood would look when it seeped from her nose and her mouth, the way she would cry as her life bled away. As she died. John ground his teeth together hopelessly. He just wanted to be with her. More than that, he just wanted her to be free. He just wanted her to be able to see the son she’d had ripped from her as a teenager, the son she hadn’t seen since he was hours old, the son who was waiting for her in Colombia until it was safe enough for them all to leave Los Angeles.
An unbearable sadness fell upon John. He didn’t want to die. Didn’t want Ana to die. Didn’t want to leave Juliette with the likes of Caroline to guide her through life.
We could just get in the car now, John thought. Knock Guillermo out – hell, shoot him dead – get the car, get Juliette, and drive across that border. It was only three hours from LA to the Mexican crossing. They’d get over there, get some fake IDs and disappear. Shit, they didn’t even need to go to Mexico. LAX was a thirty-minute drive away if the traffic was favourable. They could ask for the first flight to England, or Australia, or fucking Antarctica.
She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t leave without Jason. And John wouldn’t leave without her. So they were all stuck.
‘Show her some fucking comfort, man,’ Guillermo said, his words cutting through John’s vortex of thoughts as he gestured to a sobbing Mariana.
‘You’re the one who lives with her,’ John said gruffly.
‘You’re the one who’s in love with her,’ Guillermo shot back.
Well, he didn’t know what the fuck to say to that, but he did briefly regret emptying Mariana’s gun of bullets. He’d very much have liked to empty the thing into Guillermo’s face right now.
‘What the fuck did you just say?’ John asked.
‘You think I can’t hear you sneaking around in here?’ Guillermo shot back.
That was it. Prick was practically begging for it. John launched at Guillermo, one hand grabbing his T-shirt in a fist, the other reared back and ready to slam into the fucker’s meaty face.
How was Guillermo still smiling?
‘Hey!’ Mariana said sharply, her fist closing over the one John was about to eviscerate this motherfucker with, pu
nch by bloody punch.
John turned his head to where Mariana stood. ‘Let. Go,’ he growled.
She didn’t.
‘He’s not our enemy,’ Mariana whispered, her long nails digging into his arm. ‘He’s our friend. And right now, we can use all the friends we can get.’
John took a ragged breath. Let go of Guillermo. Took a step back, running a hand over his head.
‘Does Dornan know about what happened today?’ he asked finally.
Mariana just stared at him.
‘Nope.’ Guillermo glanced at Mariana before returning his attention to John. ‘He’s not in a good place, man. Not after Colorado. If he sees her like this . . .’
So Guillermo knew about Stephanie.
‘No shit,’ John replied.
‘I’m right here,’ Mariana muttered.
‘And you’re hardly giving me straight answers,’ John snapped at her, looking back to Guillermo. ‘Anything else I should know?’
He shrugged. ‘Nothing that comes to mind right now.’
Jesus, fuck. Things were unravelling faster than John had anticipated. He felt hollow. Tired. Fucking worn out. Like someone had taken an ice-cream scoop and carved out his insides.
He closed his eyes for a moment, pressing the fingers of one hand against his eyelids for a brief reprieve. Dead babies and boxes of ash were more than he’d been wanting to deal with today. Any day.
It was in that moment that he realised, with absolute fucking clarity, that despite everything he’d promised Mariana, this life was almost certainly going to kill them all. If Guillermo knew about his relationship with Mariana, then who else knew? Granted, it was almost impossible for John not to openly stare at Mariana whenever they happened to be within shooting distance of each other. He knew that Dornan knew something was up. He’d been banking on the fact that Dornan probably thought John’s hostility was because of the way he had brutally slain Stephanie back in Colorado and then asked John to do the clean-up, just months beforehand.
Did Dornan know?
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