Page 115 of Ethan's Sky
“W-w-what are you talking about, Santiago?” I ask, hoping my fear doesn’t show through, though inside I’m fighting to keep the panic at bay.
He shrugs a shoulder, placing a skillet on the stove top, coating the bottom with oil, then setting the burner to medium. He grabs the chicken, placing it in front of him, searching through cabinets for something.
“George told us you killed the kid in self-defense. You did what you had to do. No shame in that, Sweetheart. You hesitate now because you’re holding onto guilt for taking his life. But he wasn’t an innocent man, Sky. The fact is, if you hadn’t killed him, he would’ve killed you. He deserved what he got. I would’ve strung him up for a few days in our cellar, but your way worked too.” His face resembles disappointment, and his tone tells me he’s dead fucking serious.
“I didn’t want to kill him. He just…”
Santiago finds the spices he wants and generously seasons the chicken before placing it in the skillet. He bumps the faucet with his elbow turning the water on, and begins washing his hands, while continuing to explain.
“You may not have wanted to kill him, but don’t think for one minute what you did was wrong.He deserved it.He had been pumping young girls with drugs and turning them into prostitutes. Keeping them so fucked up on his shit, some didn’t realize what they were doing, they only knew they had to do what they were told if they wanted another hit. Your friend was one of those women.” He dries his hands, then reaches for the onion and a knife. Looking at me over his shoulder he says, “I know you don’t want to hear it, but you know it’s the truth, right?” I nod. I did know. I just didn’t think anyone else knew. Everyone in town assumed she was drugged and raped because it’s how the police report was written.
He begins slicing the onion into thin strips.
“Matthews always had a string of girls following him around town. Boss kept an eye on him for a while right before your friend was killed. The guy pretended to date the girls for a few weeks. He’d take them to parties. Drug their drinks, take photos of them, convincing them they had a great time. He would convince them to try something a little harder, fuck them, and convince them they were his one and only. Then once they were hooked, the fucker sold their time and body making him more money and keeping the girls coked out of their head. So don’t youeverfeel bad about sending that asshole to hell. We clear?”
I let Santiago’s words sink in, but there’s a part to all of this he doesn’t understand. I don’t think anyone does.Because it’s club business.
But if Santiago knows what happened, then he already knows the club’s business, so I should be able to talk to him about it. Right? I haven’t spoken to anyone about it since the night everything went down. Not even with Daddy. I was sworn to secrecy fromeveryone.
But Santiago knows more than anyone else does. And I know I can trust him.
I need to tell someone. Maybe it’ll finally help take the weight off my chest.
I start twisting the hem of my shirt in my hands. “Can I tell you something, and you swear not to tell anyone else? I don’t even know if Vincenzo knows, but I-I need to talk to someone about it, and since Daddy told you what I did---and you’ve kept his secret…I need you to keep it between us! Gabe would be pissed if I said anything.”
Santiago drops the knife, reaches under the cabinet, and pulls out a second skillet, again coating the bottom with a thin layer of oil.
“If I can keep the family secrets,” his lips curve at the corners, “I can keep your secrets. So long as you aren’t doing something to hurt yourself that is.”
“You don’t care if I want to hurt someone else?” I ask.
Santiago has the knife in his hand and stops short of cutting the bell pepper, turning to me. “Give me a name.” His face is serious, his tone deathly lethal.
“No. No. I don’t want to hurt someone else. I was only asking why you wouldn’t care if I did?”
“I don’t think you understand.Youwouldn’t hurt someone; you would give me a name and I would take care of it. But if you did hurt someone, you would need only tell me where to send the clean-up crew. Boss will take care of everything.”
Oh my God. He’s serious!
“Okay. Okay. Back up. I don’t think you understand what I’m asking.” Santiago looks at me expectantly, one hand on the knife the other now holding his phone. I throw my hands up in front of me. “What I meant was, can I tell you something about the night Chase died and you not tell anyone? Like things you may not know happened. Things I worry about.”
“You can tell me anything, Sweetheart. What’s weighing on your mind?” He turns back to his vegetables and continues slicing away.
I breathe in deep and let I out the words rushing them with my breath.
“I don’t feel guilty for killing Chase.”
“Good. You shouldn’t.”
“But I do feel guilty for all the trouble killing him caused the club.” Santiago throws the vegetables into the pan with the oil, then lightly seasons and stirs them.
“The club does what they want. It’s not your choice what they do.”
“I know. But they wouldn’t have had to do anything if I didn’t kill someone. See, my uncle disposed of the body, and the club covered up his death to make it look like he disappeared to keep from starting a war.”
“As they should have.”
“Santiago.”
