Page 124 of At The End Of The Day

Vincent da Silva

Sunday 10.20.2019

“Babe.”

“What?” I shouted, licking the side of my thumb when some of the melted cheese splattered on it.

“Come here.”

“Where?”

“Office.”

Wiping my hands on a paper towel, I pushed the macaroni and cheese I was making for Piera aside and strolled for the hallway.

“Hurry.”

“All right,” I snapped, jogging into the office.

Dash was slouched low in the chair, the large monitor to the computer filled with tiny, one inch blocks. It wasn’t like the security system back in Georgia where the whole wall was covered in full sized screens, but it was sufficient for our needs now that there was no physical danger to…

That thought faded out and a chill sank into my core at the car pulling up to the house.

“Oh…shit,” I muttered, instinctively placing my hand on his shoulder.

“Shit!” he blasted, bounding to his feet. Pacing, his hand raked through his hair, his expression hard. “What the fuck did I do, Vin? What the fuck!” he shouted, shaking his fists.

“Look, just calm down—”

Pointing at the screen, spit flew out of his mouth with, “It’s the leader of the Lords, Vin! I fucking killed one of his people last night. I destroyed the pact. As soon as The Boss makes me a leader, I destroy everything you and Jackyl busted your ass for. You think he ain’t gonna have an issue with that?”

“Hey, look at me.” I grabbed the sides of his neck and forced him to be still. My chin dipped a bit to stare at him through my lashes. “We’ll use Ty’s jet and bounce, okay? It’s fine. Ain’t nothing gonna happen.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, babe,” he whispered.

The doorbell rang and sharp talons clawed under my skin, my sight flitting to the videos on the screen. Gazing into his eyes once more, my brows lifted.

“Just follow my lead, got it? Be cool. He was on our turf, he was starting shit. Remember that. We protected ours.”

He nodded stiffly but gulped. A few months ago, neither one of us would have even so much as batted a lash at a situation like this, but everything was different. The enemy was standing on our doorstep and our daughter was upstairs. We had to be careful.

I patted the side of his neck, placed a kiss to his forehead, and bent over, snatching the top drawer to grab the gun. Tucking it under the hem of my shirt at the front of my jeans, I didn’t bother to hide it, I wanted him to know we were on the defense.

“Pull it together. Remember who the fuck you are. Let’s go.”

“Right, right.” He pulled his Glock from the back of his jeans and copied me, following to the door.

My eyes met his dark green ones through the glass. He was glaring, his lips thin, a muscle in his jaw flexing. Wearing his colors, his chin lifted defiantly as I reached for the knob. I opened it slowly and stood there, Dash beside me as a united front.

“What’re you doing here, man? We got rules.”

His nostrils flared with a deep inhale, his focus shifting to Dash a moment. “I ain’t about beating around the bush, Vin. I’m gonna get straight to the point.”

In unison, we both reached for our pistols, gripping the handles.

His eyelids rounded with a trace of fear, his palms pumping in the air. “Ain’t no need for that, Vinny,” he urged, taking a few steps backward.

“Wachoo worried about, Red?”