Page 122 of Faded Gray Lines

Oh, God!

Whipping my head back around, I stared in horror at the crumpled female discarded on the floor like a piece of trash. She lay on her stomach, her orange hair fanned around her.

“Sarah?” I called out, although the chances of her responding were slim to none considering the blood staining her back.

Emilio shook his head. “Good bartenders are so hard to find.”

The bastard just stood there with his arms crossed, smirking at me. Then I saw it.

A skull with half of the jaw missing on his left forearm.

As I suspected.

I’d only ever seen Emilio in long sleeves. Today, he had them rolled up to his elbows, answering a question that had plagued me since hiding against a wall in Luis’s apartment.

“It was you,” I stammered. “In Luis’s apartment—it was you. What did I do to you to deserve this?”

I didn’t expect an answer, but I guess arrogance was its own worst enemy.

He let out an amused chuckle, seemingly pleased with himself. “I knew about you and Mateo years ago. Pussy is pussy, so I let him have his fun with you.” Walking a slow gait toward me, I held my breath as he gripped the chair’s armrests and leaned down. “Until you convinced him to turn his back on his own. Then I had to do some pussy damage control.”

More pieces fell into place. “You had him arrested.”

“I’m flattered you think I wield that much power, but it was a group effort.” Stepping back, he shrugged. “I could’ve killed him. I was soft back then.”

“He trusted you!” I screamed.

His look of validation came with annoyance. “What part of I could’ve killed him did you not hear,puta? And how did I get repaid for my mercy? I got left in this piece of shit town while he lived the life of a god.”

I jumped as he fisted his hands and hit the wall.

Crooking a finger, he tapped it against his temple. “But I always think ahead. I plan. I watch. I see. And when something benefits me, I take it.”

“Did my mother benefit you?” I hissed, tired of his self-congratulatory rant.

“Ah, yes. Our little home video. I assume that’s what your phone call was about?” He leaned against the wall and laughed as I scowled. “Years ago, she asked for help getting rid of some dead weight, so I requested payment—an insurance policy, so to speak. Between you and me, I think she enjoyed it more than she wants to admit.”

“Shut up!” Spots filled my vision, and my head swam as a whimper floated up from the floor.

“Sarah,” I whispered. “She’s innocent.”

Pushing off the wall, Emilio stood over her. “That bitch stole from me—shit I’d kept for years to cover my ass. Then I went through her phone and found out she was Hector Diaz’s side piece.” I winced as he pulled his foot back and kicked her in the ribs. “Whore.”

My heart broke as Sarah collapsed again. I wanted to help her, but my mind was too focused on one thing.

“Where’s my daughter?” I shrieked.

He clucked his tongue and pulled his phone from his pocket. “It’s showtime.”

Showtime could’ve meant anything. Since he had an obvious love for preserving moments on film, maybe he was calling someone to capture my death for his future viewing pleasure.

He smiled as the person on the other end of the call answered. “It’s not quite three o’clock, but the meeting has started.”

A new wave of nausea churned my stomach.

Three o’clock.

I told my mother to meet me at three o’clock.