"I'd love to watch them come and get it. We'll be waiting for them. They have tried to take way too much from me. I dare them to try and take more."
"You really think men like this can be stopped?"
"We've done it before. We can do it again."
I shake my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. "The people you killed were nobody compared to these men. Those were the bottom feeders. The ones after us now are the masterminds behind the whole operation. I have a feeling they won't be the only ones we have to answer to."
"How do you suggest we handle this?"
"We take it one day at a time. Increase security, be aware of our surroundings, and never let our guard down. They want us weak. One by one they will try to tear us down. We will beat them at their own game."
"It won't be the first time."
I doubt it'd be the last. We pull ourselves out of one mess only to enter another. It is the life I have tied myself to and as long as my family remains in danger, I can never step away.
Just a little longer.
They are still the only words that help me get through the hard days. Even after all this time. They aren't as comforting without Marcus here. My son has yet to tell me about one of the main men he works with, but I managed to find out anyway. I have my ways and it wasn't hard to follow his tracks, discovering one of their shared clubs. Only minutes after sitting outside did I get the confirmation I needed. He’s older now, and other thanan added scar and different colored hair, Marcus didn’t change much. His smile is still something worth stopping the world for. It has my heart beating loudly in my chest and it leaves me breathless. I couldn't get out of the car. It wasn't the right time.
I slide my phone in my pocket after ending the call with Isaiah, wishing I could be back in front of his club again, seeing the rise and fall of Marcus's chest; witnessing the blush in his cheeks and the light in his eyes brought back a part of me I had thought died long ago. Seeing him alive after watching his house catch fire eleven years ago isn’t enough. It won't be real until I'm touching him again.
I enter my office and walk toward my desk to pull out the blue pistol I'd once given to the man I love. It was never supposed to return to me without him holding it. I stroke the words engraved into the metal. "Come back to me."
The gun did, but he didn't. The more time that passes, the further away he feels. He's not mine anymore, but I'll never stop being his.
Chapter 2
Marcus
Pacing in front of my desk, I'm too anxious and wound up to focus. I hate when I get this way. My thoughts are going a mile a minute. Filled with worry, I tug on the sleeves of my jacket, trying to come up with a solution to ease my frustrations. I'm too far on edge to face any of my clients. It's hard to give them a reason for their product disappearing when I don't even know where it is.
The fury inside me continues to build up like magma pushing through the vents of a volcano. Too many people have rattled my cage in the past two months and more brass shells reappear each week. They won't stop either, but that's not what worries me the most. What happens when they finally do? How many men would I have lost by then? How many of my businesses would be destroyed, how much product would be in ruins and when would they be coming to take what's left?
"Have we found out where the shells came from?"
Germo stands tall, appearing hopeful. "We have. Turns out they belong to more than one person."
"Who?"
"Your sons and their boyfriends."
My forehead wrinkles. "How could that be? Why would someone be leaving empty casings from their guns to send me a message?" Then it clicks as I ask the question out loud—a bullet for a bullet. They were returning each shell fired the day my sons had helped take down one of the largest trafficking rings's most popular auction houses.
"I guess they want to remind us of what Miguel’s and your boys did six months ago. From what I hear, the word spread from Santana."
Trying hard not to appear affected by the mention of Miguel's name, I clench my fists and slam them into my sides. "How, when she's dead?"
"Supposedly she made a call to a lot of people once she found out, to try and save her own ass. She didn't want the blame to stay on her."
"Are we sure someone at the auction didn't happen to survive and is the one out seeking revenge?"
"Not that we're aware of. From what I hear, no man who helped run the operation or even the buyers walked out of that hotel alive."
As soon as Abraham leaves my office, I pick up my phone and select Gabriel's name from my list of contacts. He answers on the second ring.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Is that how you greet your own father?"
