At the fifth floor, Benito shoves through the door leading to the roof, and we follow him up. I stop on the flat roof, my breath sawing in and out of my lungs. I bend over and brace my hands on my knees, blood pumping out of my side at a dangerous rate.
“Where you goin’, motherfucker?” Smoke yells at Benito as he races across the tar roof.
I suck in a breath and catch up with Smoke as Benito hoists himself up on the ledge of the building. “What the fuck is he doin’?”
Benito gives us one last look. “You’ll never catch me.” Then he launches himself to the neighboring rooftop at least ten feet away.
“Son of a bitch.” Smoke runs to the ledge with me close behind.
I reach the edge just in time to see Benito gripping the drainpipe of the building, his feet grappling for traction against the crumbling bricks. The metal groans, then bends under his weight, and his fingers claw for the edge of the cement ledge. He frantically fights against gravity, his arms shaking under the pressure. He turns his head in a silent plea, his eyes wide with fear seconds before he falls, his body hitting the cement below with a dull thud.
“Shit!” I peer over the edge.
Smoke shakes his head. “I’ll never understand why these morons run up.”
“Only one way down.” My eyes are transfixed on Benito’s prone body splayed out in the alley between the buildings.
Smoke looks me over. “Fuck, brother, you’re bleeding out all over.”
I lean against the ledge and grip my side. A deep burning sensation rips through me, and I’m suddenly weak as shit.
Smoke anchors my arm over his shoulder, and I gladly lean on him for support. We slowly make it down the five flights, then into Eduardo’s apartment.
Martina jumps to her feet, reaches out her arms, and the room spins. Then nothing.
CHAPTER 23
MARISOL
Two days later, I’m waiting impatiently in Diesel’s apartment for his arrival from the hospital.
“Thanks for waiting with me,” I say to both Maxie and Marisol.
“It’s been a crazy few days.” Marisol shakes her head. “Benito holding you at gunpoint.”
“Then falling to his death.” I shiver. “I still can’t process it all.”
“I nearly shit when Benito aimed that gun at your head,” Maxie adds.
My heart jacks up at the thought, then I lower my eyes. “Still can’t believe Eduardo stepped up. Literally put himself in the line of fire.”
Marisol reaches over and squeezes my hand. “How’s he doing?”
“Thankfully, the bullet didn’t hit any organs, but he did lose a fair amount of blood. My mother has been in touch with the hospital here, and she’s having him transported to the medical center in San Diego at the end of the week.
“I still can’t believe Benito’s dead.” I rub my palms over my denim shorts. “I catch myself looking over my shoulder, expecting him to pop up.”
“He’s gone now, hon,” Marisol says. “He can’t hurt you or anyone else anymore.”
“And you don’t have to worry about fighting Saturday night. With all you’ve been through, and with Diesel . . .”
Her voice fades, and I finish her sentence, “I don’t know what I have with Diesel, but hopefully, whatever it is, we can remain friends.”
“Friends?” both women say in unison.
“Do you realize how many times you two do that?” I joke.
They look at each other and laugh as the sound of heavy footsteps and loud male voices fills the hallway. A few seconds later, the door swings open, and Blood enters the apartment, followed by Smoke and a very slow-moving Diesel.
