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My brain was screaming at me, my mother’s words echoing over and over in my thoughts.
But what?
My spiraling worries were interrupted by shots being fired into the air. I realized that a soldier was being buried a few yards away.
The gunfire from the gun salute echoed in my mind. Nico di Cecco hadn’t hesitated when he’d shot Jason three times. And the justice system would have there be no repercussions for him murdering Jason.
Nico was free. Jason was dead.
My eyes narrowed on the soldiers’ guns as they lowered them next to their sides.
Justice.
Without thinking, I picked up my phone and looked through my contacts until I found the number I was looking for.
“Mya, it’s been a long time.” His voice was high-pitched and a little squeaky. He always sounded that way. At the group home, we’d call him Squirrel…Squirrely Ricky.
“Hey, Ricky.” I paused, and then before I could lose my nerve, “I need a favor.”
“You got it.” He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even ask how I was. That was Ricky for you.
We used to steal snacks at the local convenience stores and then sneak into the movies and stay there until curfew. It was our break from reality.
The two of us had been the newest kids at the group home, so we had stuck together. He had been in and out of juvie most of his life, so he knew the ins and outs of that lifestyle. He taught me how to survive.
We hadn’t seen each other since Jason’s funeral. I didn’t remember much from that day, but I remembered his hand on my shoulder, telling me to call him if I ever needed anything.
I didn’t have any friends, so I appreciated the gesture. Even though we didn’t run with the same crowd anymore, I heard rumors, rumors that Ricky liked to skirt the law, and if you needed something done quietly, he was your man.
Plus, he felt he owed me one. His mother had been a junkie, and when she had overdosed during her visitation hours withhim, it had been me who had found her in the bathroom of the group home, unconscious on the floor, the pills not too far from her body.
I’d called 911 and had gone to the hospital with Ricky. His mom had pulled through that day, and her dealer had died, strangely enough, from a hit-and-run later that night.
“Can you get me a gun?”
There was a long pause, and then he laughed softly without humor. He said, “Going hunting?”
“Something like that.”
“Meet me by the playground across the tracks in an hour.” It was our old hangout spot. It was a desolate playground that sat rusted and abandoned near a condemned building that had once upon a time been a school.
The playground was about a mile from where the group home had been.
“I’ll be there.”
Without another word, I drove off. I didn’t look back at the graveyard. That was behind me. What I had to do was in front of me now.
Excuses are for the useless.
There would be no more excuses now. Not for me, not for those who killed my love, and not for taking my vengeance.
CHAPTER TWO
Dario
The photos didn’t doher justice.
I would know, after all. I’d seen thousands of photos of her over the years. I collected them and liked to look through them every night while pouring myself a drink that I never got around to even tasting.