Bruno growled. “It’s me that will live with his blood on my hands. “AHHHHHH!” he bellowed through gritted teeth.
Guilt had kicked in like a bitch.
Gripping the phone firmly, it cracked in his enormous hand. He slammed the remains of his phone into the wall, it smashed to pieces.
“Bruno, baby, come and sit down,” Annie’s soft voice sang from the doorway.
Bruno glanced in her direction... So naive, oblivious. Hanging calmly in the open doorway.
“It’s Christmas Eve. Whatever needs dealing with can be dealt with after Christmas is over, Bruno.”
“Bitch, I’m working!” He seethed and instantly felt a pang of regret. He ground his teeth, looking out the window. “I’ll get him. Who really did it,” he muttered to himself. He threw open the kitchen window the cold air slashed at his face.
“Don’t you talk tomelike that!” she snapped.
Bruno didn’t turn around, didn’t look at her, hands trembling, seething—furious with himself. Lighting up, he hid in a cloud of cigarette smoke at the window, thinking with a depression that was unlike him. Had Castillo chosen the wrong man to succeed him? Growling, he slammed the window shut. One thing was clear, he hadn’t come this far to allow weakness into his bones.
On a huff, Bruno’snaivelittle women marched her two size five’s right up to her man and clutched his cold cheeks angling his face so they were looking at each other. “Read my lips, Bruno. It. Can. Wait.
Bruno tried to shrug her away but she gripped his arms tightly, firm and aggressive. The little pocket rocket of a woman was small but strong as iron.
“Whoever you got a vendetta against this time, killing won’t fix whatever it is Bruno. It never does.”
Bruno made no reply.
The woman sighed fatalistically. Releasing her hold, she dropped onto the chair beside him.
Just as soon as she’d sat down, Bruno, in one smooth motion, ripped the chair beside her from its place at the table and sent it flying sideways into the kitchen cupboards, smashing the chair beyond use.
“Oh, real mature!” Annie rolled her eyes….blind rages were the norm with this man.
Chest heaving, Bruno stilled, catching his breath. He stared at his woman for the longest time but didn’t say a word. The big man wanted to cry but was unable to release his tears. That part of him had withered and died a long time ago.
Slowly moving over to him, Annie sunk into the arms of the big beast, her beast. Her eyes meeting his. “Talk to me. Talk.To.Me,” she whispered.
Caressing her arms with his calloused hands, he felt goosebumps all over her skin…..she was frightened, anxious.
“There’s only one thing you need to feel right now,” she voiced calmly, smoothing her hands up along his muscled chest.
Dropping to her level, he touched his lips to her ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She tugged him closer until his cock could feel her soft mound through their clothes.
A deep, seductive craving to take her right now, shot fire through his veins. He growled. Now was no time to play. Pushing her aside firmly but carefully, Bruno stormed out of the kitchen and bolted up the stairs.
In the bedroom, he went over to the dresser and put on his suit in rapid, almost robotic movements. Far from okay, he had to get out. He ran downstairs.
“Bruno, please. Where are you going now?” Annie’s voice wavered. “Stop and relax a while?” she pleaded.
Bruno just made his way towards the door. “I won’t be long, baby,” he said, choosing to ignore her pleading.
“Where are you going Bruno?” Annie shrieked as he yanked open the front door. “You can’t just storm out like this!”
The room shook as the front door slammed shut.
Bruno marched to his vehicle with the fiery determination of an army. Hopping into his black sedan, he kicked it into reverse, knocking over his wife’s concrete potted plants, soil and flowery shit spilling all over the ground, then he revved forwards on a turn and hit the street.
A fire in his soul, and gangster rap on the radio, Bruno raced north away from the quiet of Oceanside, toward the nice part of San Diego. Kicking the car into higher gear, he gripped the wheel hard into a tight turn to avoid veering off the road then raced down the clear streets at sixty miles per hour to the heart-stopping boom of the speakers. Leaning forward to the windshield, the day was clear but all he saw was fireworks.
