“Anyone ever with him at the drops?”
“Nah, man. He came alone. Except sometimes he had his woman with him.” A slimy grin creeps up on his face. “She was hot as fuck and he let me borrowher as payment from time to time, if you know what I mean.” Sergio snickers, gradually getting into an annoying laughing fit.
Bullet lets out a heavy sigh in frustration. “Did Grizzly ever mention a name? Who he worked for?”
Sergio’s expression turns studious like he’s really trying to think.
“Don’t hurt yourself, pal,” Bullet jests.
“I’m pretty sure whoever he works for is involved in some shit. But like I said, he always came alone.”
“What kind of shit?” Bullet grinds his teeth.
“I don’t know, dude. Like trafficking, I guess. Women maybe. It’s a good business. Earns a lot of fucking dough.”
Bullet and I exchange glances, then I uncross my arms from my chest getting ready to move on him for that sleazy comment. But as my boot drags an inch, the photo I know so well—too well, slips from my pocket and slowly floats across the air. It lands directly at the base of Sergio’s worn-out shoes.
My beautiful Gracie smiles up at the world, up at me, and my breathing increases with my heart stammering inside mychest ready to pop out at any given moment. My Gracie, who I keep locked inside my heart so tightly, is out in the world for everyone to see.
Sergio bends down, picking up her photo, the one I took of her on our porch swing, and holds her in his slimy fucking hands. My blood boils, my vision reddening with each second his sneer grows bigger. It’s the same one I thought Danika had seen.
I had showered that morning, forgetting to put the picture back into my pocket. Every day she’s with me, tucked safely against my heart and how it managed to slip out, I’ll never know.
Bullet says something to me, probably words of encouragement, trying to calm me down but I don’t hear them because my predatory stare is locked on the asshole who dared touched Gracie.
“Damn. She yours? She is one fine piece of ass. Mind if I have a go with her when you’re done?”
Do it. He touched her. End him. He deserves to rot in the hell. Fucking do it.
Kill him.
Sergio goes still with terror in his eyes.
Do. It.
“Hush!”
That’s it. The thin thread holding my sanity together is snipped like a taut piece of string. The wood from my bat, the very same wood I felt beneath the palm of my hand plenty of times, is ripped out from the strap on my jeans, and I’m on him like a moth to a flame.
With one menacing blow, my bat connects with Sergio’s face. The crack of bones breaking loud enough that if the music wasn’t playing, anyone inside could hear. But everything’s silenced and the voice inside my head screams with guilt-free rage.
Blow after blow, the foul act feeds my mind, cursing me to keep going. Blood splatters across my face, letting me taste the metallic iron on my tongue as the howl of Sergio’s agonizing screams echo through the night.
That’s it. Kill him.
A roaring thunderous yell slivers its way from my throat until I can’t anymore. Until Bullet forcefully tries ripping me off Sergio, to stop my bat I’m currently imploding into his skull. But he’s useless when I’m like this.
Nothing can stop me.
As soon as I’m about to bring down my bat onto Sergio’s already battered, bloody mess of a face once more, a sudden breeze kisses my cheek, surrounding my entire being. The voice haunting my thoughts slowly fades, growing weaker. My vision returns, and Bullet’s voice behind me becomes audible.
My chest rises and falls searching for air back into my lungs, and when everything returns, I’m able to realize the extent of what I’ve just done. Sergio lies in a pool of his own blood. The once white snow stained with crimson and brain matter near his body.
I had done that. My own hands. The same hands that once touched Gracie.
I drop my bat covered with Sergio’s blood and DNA. My staggering breaths escaping quickly—too quickly—that I can feel the blood pooling to my feet.
“Hush, brother.”
