Heading to their various spots, they all warily eye Angel’s machete’s gleaming blade on his desk. We know he never keeps it far from his side. Witness him sharpening it on a wet stone every morning, no different than a nun saying prayers.
Even my black soul softens, seeing the way his new bride squeezes back into the safety of him as the burly killers file past to take a space around the room. She’s frightened, and he wants to annihilate everyone for making her feel scared.
The temperature in the room drops to glacial as Angel’s cold eyes track every man, daring them to look too long at what is his.
Ellie’s the last to enter with freshly printed papers in one hand, and Ezekiel-Jane’s purse tucked under her arm.
“I need your I. D’s.” She slaps the official-looking form onto the desk, handing Ezekiel-Jane her purse. Easy shoots her a wary glance, fishing for her I.D. before handing it to her.
Angel hands his over, which she takes a cursory glance.
Nodding, she asks, “Ezekiel-Jane Love, do you freely agree to this union with Angel Oscar Cruz?
“Yes,” her voice is soft, clear and full of dread.
My brows shoot up at her last name. I look at my friend, who didn’t miss that last name either.
“Angel?”
I see him hesitate. I feel more than see Rocco, who’s standing next to me, shift uncomfortably. So, he knew she was a Love. I know he has a connection to the family through his abuela. No wonder he stepped up earlier.
Enough of the guys have noted the delay. Tension is thick with the anticipation of Angel possibly repudiating the woman. Some of these sickos can’t wait to tear her apart — all of them holdovers.
Angel bristles visibly. “Yeah.” Gritted out hard, the word lands like a boulder inside the tomblike room.
“It’s done. You both need to sign.” She hands them both a pen. Then they fuss about her stealing his pens for all of two minutes before he says the thing that stumps me like a park ranger putting out a fire with his boot.
“Get Saban. So we can get this over with.” Stepping back to the side with Rocco, so she’s not in my direct line of sight, I cross my arms over my chest, girding myself to see her so soon after the kiss we shared.
Damn, she smells like me. I can see she’s a little subdued. She makes a point of not looking in my direction. Still, that shit grates — more than I like to admit.
“Print your names so I can get the exact spelling.” She instructs. The soft lilt of her native land has never quite left her.
“Why?” Easy asks, confusion marking her words.
“For the ring tattoos.” Saban shoots Angel awhat the fuckkind of look. Everyone treads carefully around el patron, but not this girl. She’s practically grown up in his home alongside, Lourdes, Angel’s sister and her best friend. She sees him as a big brother. He sees her as a kid sister, so she gets a pass on her sass with him. I never afford her that concession. She has me tied in enough knots.
“Jeeze Louise,” Ezekiel-Jane mutters, grabbing the clean sheet of paper Angel hands her. Theres’s a slight tremble as shewrites her name out, the only sign of the ordeal she’s had to endure. Again, respect for this little bit of a thing swells inside me. Though now knowing who her people are, I’m not surprised. The Loves are formidable, and their matriarch, Mama-Pete, is not to be fucked with. That family has run these parts since Emancipation and are known killers when it comes to anyone messing with their family. They are pitiless and will bury you and then attend your funeral right along with your family.
The success of our entire enterprise is because of her and Pa-Pete bequeathing it to Angel when they stepped down and none of their descendants wanted to take over the Southern Syndicate, their sons and daughters wanted to go straight, so they had no problem when Angel stepped forward to take over.
Saban turns to Ezekiel-Jane. “Give me your left hand. I promise to be quick.”
Easy splays her fingers wide. “Hold her arms so she doesn’t flinch, Angel. She’s tired, so she won’t be able to keep still.”
The buzz of the gun starts. Then, it’s like she’s transformed. A pure artist lost in the rhythm and flow of her work. Though the tattoos are simple, the artistry cannot be missed in the care and intricacy of the designs.
Every eye is on her while she works, and I don’t like it. Some look bored, but the doggish ones watch her with ill-concealed lust in their eyes. When they see me watching, a few drop their gazes, knowing I will put them in the ground for daring to even look at her. Others seem to have a death wish because they keep looking at her, letting me know they’ll challenge me outright for her. These are the ones I relish. I nod, letting a nasty smile paint my lips. Can’t wait.
The gun stops, and she busies herself cleaning and putting her tools away.
“Wait for me outside.” She shoots me an unreadable look, but nods at my order. She knows never to challenge me in front ofothers. They might think to claim her. I don’t have any problems laying down a few more unfortunates over her.
Angel waits until she clears the room before he turns to those gathered.
“Any business? Congratulations? Bullshit y’all need to get off your chests before I see my woman home?”
Smirking at his words, I drop my arms in case I need to pull out my Sig or bowie knife and put a dog down.
