Page 38 of Retribution


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Ernesto Diaz, NBA coach

Senator Charles Rankin

Judge Mitchell Easton

Doctor Erin Ortega

Earl Johnson

There’s more. Many, many more. I understand though, that there isn’t time. We saw the news that was reporting on Papa’s house being found. Plus the other murders. I know Trey likes to take his time to stalk our victims first, to try to avoid being caught by the police. And it won’t be long before Earl’s body is found. Trey says that when a police officer is killed, that the investigation ramps up—cops don’t like cop killers.

Which means we can’t be as careful as we’d like to be. We’re going to have to kill as many on my list as possible and then disappear. We haven’t yet discussed where we’ll go, or how we’ll get there.

One thing at a time.

Trey takes the napkin, quickly scanning through the names. “Fuck, Rebecca. You’ve got high-profile people here.”

“Will that be a problem?”

Trey’s brows lower and he waves his hand back and forth. “If we had the luxury of time, then no. I know how to kill and get away with it. But fuck.” He scrapes his hand through his beard, eyes narrowed at the list again. “We’re going to have to do some reconnaissance, and I’ll see what I can hack into. Who knows, we might get lucky.”

He goes quiet as the waitress approaches with our food. I’m starving, and dig into the bacon, moaning quietly at the greasy, salty goodness. Trey watches me with hungry eyes, and it takes me by surprise when my mouth goes dry and my heart begins to beat harder.

He cuts a piece of pancake, rolling it in syrup before holding the fork out to me. He watches me intently as I close my mouth over it, slowly drawing back, licking my lips.

“Fuck,” he draws out, pupils blown.

Chuckling, I blow him a kiss, then proceed to finish my meal. I’ll be sure to take care of my man later.

My man.

I’m not sure if I should be worried that the sound of that is more appealing than frightening.

***

We decided to go for Ernesto Diaz first. Although all but one of the names on my list are high profile, Ernesto is arguably at the top. A coach for a popular NBA team, he’s based in Phoenix but owns a second home in Flagstaff. After some research, we discovered that he’s currently in residence in Flagstaff, luckily for us.

Two days is all we take to prepare. There’s now an hourglass that has taken up residence in my chest, the falling sands reminding me that we’re now running out of time. If I want my justice, it has to be now, and it has to be quick.

Ernesto’s large house sits back off the road, reminiscent of Papa’s with a wall around it. We’ve watched as some of the coach’s players come over for what smells like a barbeque, and continue as they leave, one by one.

Trey drives the Jeep off the road, taking us into the surrounding forest. The night sky is crystal clear, the stars like sharp diamonds in the inky blackness, a cool autumn breeze rustling through the branches of the many pine trees that surround us. Parking up against the wall, Trey gets out and helps me climb out over the console.

It’s the waiting for the hood of the Jeep to cool down before Trey will allow me to climb up that sets my nerves on edge. I have to psychically stop myself from chewing my nails to death. Trey pulls me into his arms when he sees a shiver go through me. Dressed all in black, we can’t wear anything as bulky as a coat, and the evening is growing steadily cooler.

After several minutes, Trey tests the temperature of the hood, then nods at me. Slinging a backpack over his shoulder, he hops onto the Jeep, reaching down to help me up. He slides a leg over the wall, then drops to the ground, and I follow suit, his arms catching me as I come over.

Opening the bag, he takes out his mask, followed by a second. I gape up at him and his mouth lifts in a smirk. “Can you just imagine his face when we are standing over him, his reflection in the mask all he can see?”

“I love it, thank you,” I murmur back, rising up on my toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “We’ll be twinsies now.”

Trey sputters. “Twinsies? The fuck are twinsies?”

Cackling back at him, I turn around, letting him fix the mask on me. When I turn back to him, his mask is in place, and we don the gloves he holds out. There’s something about seeing him in the mask that just does it for me. It’s like he’s bigger, larger than life. A monster made flesh.

Taking my hand, he leads me towards the house. Lights are blinking off, the windows going dark around the modern-style house. Ernesto must have a thing for the views, as the floor-to-ceiling windows have nothing so simple as curtains or shutters blocking them. Crouching down before one, we watch as Ernesto climbs the stairs. Lights go on above us, illuminating the yard and providing us with ample shadows where we wait. Trey sits down, pulling me onto his lap as we talk in whispers, waiting for the lights to go out and sleep to take over.

When Trey determines enough time has passed, he finds the electrical box and cuts the feeds, hopefully eliminating any house alarms. Trey’s god must be on our side because nothing sounds out as we enter the house. I’m going to need him to teach me how to use the lock picks.