Ant nods and hugs him, then steps back, putting a little distance between them.
“Time to kick some ass.”
22
JAVIER
Ant and I saw Gael and Yaya off yesterday. Erik was patient as Yaya and Gael wrapped Ant in lingering hugs, and I pretended not to notice when he surreptitiously brought his shoulder up to wipe away a stray tear. Ant hugged me tight, weeping openly as the plane took off, but we already have plans for their next visit. Now that Gael and Ant have been reunited, there’s no way they’ll be separated for long.
Today we’re in Erik’s trailer with a large touchscreen on his bar, reviewing tomorrow’s operation. Anders is here with his husband, Omar, whom I’ve never met before, and Max, a fucking brick wall of an operative. I find out he and I have a lot in common—we’re both from Mexico and grew up around gangs.
“It’s good we’re on the same side now,” he says in his deep lyrical voice. “Because we used to be enemies.”
“Good for me,” I say, gesturing to my gray hair. “You could kick my ass without breaking a sweat.”
He pats my back, nearly knocking me over. “Nah, I bet you put up a pretty good fight.”
He’s not wrong.
Meanwhile, as I observe Omar’s stoicism, I’m tempted to ask how he maintains a relationship with someone like Anders. However, the combination of frustration and adoration on his face tells me Omar knows exactly who Anders is. If I had to guess, he loves Anders because of who he is, not in spite of.
I still struggle to think of myself as a good man in comparison to Levy’s sunshine, but watching Omar and Anders together is a good reminder that who I am is exactly who Levy wants.
I refocus on the screen, working through the plan with everyone. We’ve got nine locations to hit.
“I’m used to doing this all on my own, so it’s weird to have actual help,” I explain before pulling up the neighborhoods.
Before I get going, there’s a knock on the door, and Anders lights up, bounding over to the door.
“Hopper!”
Anders drags the man inside and gives him a rib-squeaking hug. I’m curious as I take in the trim guy with the New York accent and tattoos.
Omar glares at his husband. “Who invited Hopper?”
“Why do you ask questions when you know the answers?” Anders responds, laying his head on Hopper’s shoulder.
“It’s my fault,” Hopper says, offering his hand, which Omar takes reluctantly. “I like the ops where you help people. Like, there’s still plenty of people to kill, but then there’s also good people to save. I don’t get a whole lot of that in my job.”
Levy tells me Hopper is the enforcer for a powerful, weirdly ethical mob boss in Manhattan, so maybe I’m a little more surprised than I should be by his desire to do well.
I laugh at the thought. “Levy was right. We’re all a bunch of white knights.”
Coming up to me, Hopper asks, “You’re Ant’s uncle, right?”
“Si. Yes. Javier. And you’re the famous Hopper.”
“In the flesh,” he says with an exaggerated bow, then grabs me in a big hug. “Thank you for showing the little guy he’s worth finding. He’s one of us, and I’m so happy for him.”
“One of us?” I ask with a grin.
He gestures between himself and Anders. “I saw the video. He’s a tiny bit fucked in the head, but still good people.”
I let out a big belly laugh and return his hug, wondering how his honest answer heals something inside me.
With introductions out of the way, I give out assignments. Everyone has three bad guys to go after, and we’ve done what we can to ensure no one from the colonias or the households is injured.
“Anyone have questions?”
