Father sighs, waiting patiently for me to finish. “I still miss my kittens,” he says solemnly.
I reach for the tiered medical trolley, grasping the wand handle. Flipping the switch, I pass it carefully over all the areas showing damage. My tables are custom made. They’re put together using dovetails instead of nails and covered with a liner. This allows me to use a metal detector without issue.
Normally I don’t go to this much trouble. However, this customer is willing to pay for me to go the extra mile. Considering the amount of business he’s sent my way over the years, I wouldn’t think of taking his money. I’ve made enough to outfit my work area better than most medical offices or labs. Not that I work on the living—live patients are the worst. I use these moments as practice, in case it’s needed.
Though I’m always reminded why I prefer to work with the dead, like my ancestors before me. Of course, my ancestors were usually the reason those people died. Sacrifices to some long-forgotten Aztec god. Now I’m left to deal with lives claimed for a more self-serving purpose.
Still, it’s enough to have those souls weighing on me. So when I learned about Father Martinez, I started bringing him in to pray over the bodies and whatever else he needs to do in order to placate a restless spirit.
I place the wand back on the trolley then stick my thumb inside my glove and peel it down so it’s inside out. “He’s all yours,” I say, removing my face shield.
“You’re doing an excellent job.” Father steps forward, making the sign of the cross.
I stand to one side, absorbed in my own thoughts so I don’t disturb the ritual. Whether the deceased was religious or not, I’m spiritual and a big believer in karma. Someday it’ll be my body laid out on a table, and I hope to have a peaceful afterlife.
I’ve often wondered what goes through these men’s mind at the end. When I was a child I thought most killed with no regard for their own humanity. My perception changed when my brother was taken hostage by the cartel. I thought we’d lost him forever, but he came back. Though he came back different. Gone was the little boy who used to kick around a soccer ball with his friends and get in trouble in school. He was tortured and starved and thrown in to fight for his life. He learned to kill in order to survive. Then they taught him to kill for their own benefit.
It was the biggest mistake those people ever made.
I saw something different in him the night he met Bonnie. The simple fact she was alive raised a flag. Then he called me in while she was there to witness the cleaning. Tension was in the air, her life had been on the line, and her future was uncertain. While I hoped he wouldn’t turn his back on her, I didn’t expect for things to move along so well. My interference may or may not have had a hand in what happened, but Bonnie’s a smart girl. She found the man beneath the killer and reeled him in like a prize catch. I call that karma.
The thought of him finding someone seems so foreign. He’s always been my big brother. The guy who goes all-in with no regard for his own life. I suddenly realized he might actually have a heart, and she might be the one holding it.
I’ve always been alone, but I’ve never been lonely…until now. I’ve been hit with a longing I’ve never experienced. Despite swearing I would never give him a single thought, my mind turns to the man who befriended me when I was young. The one who shunned me when I was of age. The one who broke my heart. Montoya.
You can read Montoya and Mate’s story in Seducing Mattie.
About the Author
Sahara Roberts spends her days dealing with international trade issues (the legal kind) and her evenings writing romance. She is currently working on the 2nd book of the Blood Ties series.
Sahara lives in South Texas with her husband, who she lovingly refers to as Brat, and three furry overlords. She enjoys cooking, baking, and cake decorating, but she would certainly prefer to have someone else do the dishes.
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Saving Bonnie: A Dark Mafia Romance (Blood Ties Book 2) Page 17