****
Emanuel
“I can’t believe you’re eating again,” Christian chides, our other cousin, Lorenzo, as we drive toward the private airport.
“I’m fucking hungry. I haven’t eaten since …”
“A full hour,” Christian finishes.
“Can you both shut the hell up?” I insist from the backseat of the town car. “I didn’t come all of this way to talk about Lorenzo’s fucking appetite.”
Both men look at me with a narrowed gaze, Lorenzo more so than Christian. He and I aren’t as close or on as friendly terms as Christian and I are. Whatever.
“Americans, so impatient,” Lorenzo tosses out.
Christian chuckles.
“Are you sure he’s going to be here?” I look between the two men.
They both nod.
“His plane is scheduled to leave in forty-five minutes. Matteo has already spotted him waiting at the airport in a pair of dark shades.” Lorenzo snickers, as does Christian.
“Almost nine o’clock at night and he’s inside wearing sunglasses. You should see his fucking eye, Zo,” Christian says, his laughter growing.
Both men look at me and I shrug.
Five minutes later we’re pulling up to the front of the private airport that is about twenty minutes outside of the city of Williamsport. Christian and Lorenzo had been at my place waiting for me once I got in from my shift, to help me finish this bullshit with Janine’s ex. Apparently, the dumb fuck hadn’t quite gotten the message to back off, and was still trying to get law enforcement to press charges against me, even phony charges. He also attempted to meet with the head of the Fire Department to try and get me fired from my job.
Those two issues weren’t even the straw that broke the camel’s back. According to the information Christian found out on him, Matthew had had the fucking gall to rent out a place in Williamsport in my building, in an attempt to remain close to Janine to win her back. He’s flying back to Boston tonight for work purposes, but was scheduled to be back in a few days. That isn’t a trip he was going to make. The man obviously needed to learn his time was up.
“Where is he?” I question Matteo, Lorenzo’s twin brother, as soon as he approaches us in the lobby of the private airport.
“Bathroom. I’ve got two guards blocking the door so no one can get in or out.”
I nod and head in the direction he points in. Once I arrive, the two men in dark suits, look over my shoulder to Lorenzo. I glance back to see Lorenzo nod. When he does, the men move out of my way to allow me entrance.
I push the door open and make sure to lock it behind me, just so Matthew can’t get out too easily. I hear the toilet flush which is then followed by footsteps against the tiled floor, moving toward the sink. I stand back, so he can’t see me quite yet. Silently, I watch as Matthew removes his glasses. I snicker to myself at his face. His right eye is still swollen and an ugly purple and yellowish tint are apparent. You would think after such an experience, he would’ve learned.
I shake my head.Some people are just hard-headed.
“Taking a trip?” I finally say, emerging from the shadows.
Matthew is startled as he peers at me through the mirror. When he registers who I am, his mouth drops open and he spins around to face me.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you the same thing.” I move closer, getting in his face. He’s only shorter than me by a couple of inches, but the expression on his face makes him seem that much smaller. Though, he tries to recover, plastering on the cocky, confident, know-it-all look I’m sure he’s refined over the years.
“You’re following me. I will have a restraining order put on you so damned fast—”
“Is that right?” I ask, leaning past him to reach for the sunglasses he’s left sitting on the back of the sink. “Cartier’s. Nice.” I hold up his glasses in front of his face before dropping them to the floor and stepping on them.
“What the he—”
He makes a gagging sound as I wrap my right hand around the side of his neck, using my thumb to press into his lower throat, cutting off his airway.
“Shut up. You’ve done enough talking and I don’t fucking like the sound of your voice. This is what we’re going to do. You are going to stop trying to interfere in my fucking life. You’re going to leavemyfuture wife the fuck alone. You’re going to rip up that lease you just signed in my apartment building, delete Janine’s phone number, her email address, and throw away any old pictures you may have of her. She’s done with you. She has been ever since she first walked into my life in Mexico.
