Page 8 of Junior Has a Secret
I step toward my father-in-law and Jay discreetly catches my elbow.Sometimes even nice guys get dead and he’s working on finding that out.
“What are you doing?”he hisses under his breath.
My eyes remain on my target, my lips curved as I contemplate all the ways I can kill papa Mendez.“Greeting my father-in-law, Jay.You should, too.”
“Lilah,” he pleads, but I ignore his desperate need to retreat, dislodging my arm from his grip—or rather, I try.Stubborn man holds on, his commitment to his job ridiculous sometimes and always at times that could end with him dead.
“Jay,” I warn, a snap to my voice that tells him he’s pushing his luck.
He squeezes my arm in protest, but unlike Kane’s father, Jay knows not to push me, and his fingers slowly loosen, falling away.
I saunter toward my prey, and fool that he is, Kane’s father stands his ground and lets me approach.Watches me, his eyes dilated with lusty anticipation that tells me he didn’t pay attention to anything I showed him about the present version of me or any other prior version over the years for that matter.He really thinks he’s winning right now, and it’s so damn amusing it’s all I can do not to laugh, but that doesn’t serve my plan to end him.He sees me, but he hasn’t really been paying attention.But he will.Oh yes, he will.
I halt in front of him.Close enough to hurt him.Jay would object and claim he’s also close enough to hurt me.Semantics that won’t lean his direction.We’re both capable of violence.Neither of us give two fucks about boundaries.He’s old.I’m small.Some might think that levels the playing field, but the old man has been hiding for reasons we clearly do not fully understand, but hiding is hiding—it’s a product of fear I do not feel.Not to mention, I know for a fact this man isn’t one to do his own dirty work.
“You look tired tonight,” I say, giving his dirt and grime a curled lip.“Working late?”
“You might say that.”He lifts the rustic black jacket and shows off his weapon, a threat that’s supposed to draw fear and a racing heart
“Glock 19,” I say, smirking, unfazed.He’s not going to shoot me here.He can’t even force me to go anywhere with him.Not unless he wants to experience the end of his life in jail.Which isn’t an ideal outcome in my book.Inside a cell, he’d still be connected, still cause trouble.It’s in the world’s best interest, Kane specifically, that his father finds his way to dead and in the dirt.I’m done walking around fears of the cartel invading our lives.We’ll deal with the cartel Kane’s way, after his father is done with absolute finality.“It’s a big gun,” I add.“Hard to conceal, but reliable.It doesn’t jam.”
“I’m surprised you know.”His hands settle under his jacket, on his hips, ensuring I have sight of that weapon I’d really like to take from him, but I restrain myself.For now.“How often do you really use your weapon, Agent Love?”he asks, a taunt in his tone.
The words on the tip of my tongue hang there with the eagerness my blade does his chest but scaring a man who’s clearly not above hiding from danger, isn’t in my best interest.“Did you stop by to congratulate us on being the First Family of New York City now?”
“There is, indeed,muchto celebrate tonight.Where’s my son?”
“He’ll be here soon.Why don’t we go upstairs and have a drink while we wait?”
To his credit, he doesn’t immediately react, but there’s a subtle stiffening of his spine that tells me he’s aware he’s in dangerous territory.His lips twitch.“I think it’s enough for Kane to know I came by.”
“Reconsider,” I urge.
“Why?”
“You know the answer, but if you just need to hear it from me directly, fine.I’m your path to peace and if I were honest, much more.If we can sit and share a drink without it turning south, Kane might just be willing to do the same.And again,” I pause for effect, before adding, “much more.”
He studies me under veiled lids, a few heavy beats passing before his pride hands me a golden shovel, the one I plan to bury him with.“Let’s go upstairs.”
I don’t waste any time.I lean over, punch the elevator call button and the doors open immediately.I motion him forward, and when he steps inside, I join him, caging him with my presence.I key in the code and punch in our floor and when I face forward, Jay is about to step inside.I hold up my hand.“No.Stay.”
His eyes go wide, panic in their depth, as if he’s really all that stands between me and death.He doesn’t seem to get that Kane’s father could easily kill one of our men to make a statement.The consequences, however, of killing me would be brutal.
The doors shut between me and Jay and I hope like hell inside all of his desperate desire to make himself a martyr he calls Kane.
I’m going to need him to bury the body.
Chapter Eight
The elevator car is small.The hatred between me and Roberto is not.
We turn to face each other, our eyes locking, the depth of his anger, spiraling in his stare.“You look like your mother.”There’s a taunt to those words.
The statement isn’t a compliment nor a simple observation.It’s intended trickery meant to get into my head, and make me question his involvement in her death.He’s trying to scare me.This man really has a death wish.As for my mother and his involvement, I wouldn’t be surprised.Pocher uses everyone to serve his needs.I have much to say on that topic but not here, not in this elevator.“She was a delicate flower.I’m a cactus.Bitchy and thirsty for what my badge says I can’t have.”
“Must suck to be limited by that badge.”
It’s not a question and I’m not about to deny those limitations.“Me and my badge get on just fine.”