Page 4 of The True Garza

Catch me if you can, Lonny Bridge.

You turn me on, Lonny Bridge.

One day, the agent assigned to assist me on the case went missing. For several days we searched for him. Then, one night, I came home and found his head on my coffee table.

They tried to kill my contract, to pull me off the case and put me under protection. But after losing an agent to that psycho, I was determined to take him down.

And I did. It took weeks of cat-and-mouse-games; but eventually, he played right into the trap I’d set for him.

Three weeks after that, my fiancé broke off our engagement. He told me “the one that got away” was back in town and wanted him back—that they’d grown up together and were “soulmates,” but she’d left town for another man. And now that she was back, he couldn’t marry me knowing he was still in love with her.

It would’ve made such a sweet second-chance love story… if only I’d been left the fuck out of it.

Apparently, everyone knew about “the one that got away,” and the soulmates who were destined to be together. Everyone except me. And no one had bothered to warn me that I was on a roller-coaster ride tonowhereand would have done well to get the hell off before I got hurt. Nope, not until my heart was shattered into a million pieces.

Three weeks later, while nursing my heartbreak and humiliation one shot of whiskey at a time, I gotthe call.

My father was dead; killed at random by a stray bullet that was discharged during a bar-brawl between two bikers from rival gangs. Just like that, my hero was gone.

It was all more than I could handle. I descended into darkness and depression; shut out everything and everyone and went off the grid.

But, eventually, they found me—many months later. I woke up one morning, and all the Bridges were standing in my rented cabin that was tucked deep in the mountains.

For days, my family tried to get through to me, to get me to come back home. But when they realized that their efforts were futile, one by one they gave up and left—except for Uncle Walter. The man I hated with every ounce of my being. The man who destroyed our family.

He had been determined to stay until I agreed to move back home to Los Angeles. The hate, vitriol, and vicious insults I threw at him just bounced right off. He didn’t budge.

I was bitter, angry, and weighted down by grief, but he soaked it all up like a sponge and wore me down until I gave in. Because, what else did I have left in Denver? My father was dead, my ex-fiancé was as good as dead to me, and the people that I thought were my friends were actually assholes who sat back and let me waste my time on a man whose heart—they all knew—belonged to someone else.

So here I am. Back in freaking LA.

A little less sad and aggrieved than I’d been months before but stillreallyfucking angry.

I set the bottle of whiskey down on the chest-of-drawers and stare at my suitcases. All day, I’ve procrastinated unpacking because I don’t want to be here. But where do I go? Where do I want to be?

Nowhere.There’s nowhere I want to be. I’m stuck on this godforsaken planet.

With rage-filled force, I kick the suitcase closest to me. Again and again and again, while biting the inside of my cheek until I taste blood.

Worn out, I crack open the whiskey and take a swig straight from the bottle.

You wanted me back, Los Angeles? Well, here I am.

CHAPTER Three

“Red Cage assholes.”

Lonny

“You’re late.”

Charles Bridge, my annoying brother, strolls into the waiting area with an air of arrogance as great as his six-foot-four frame. It irks me that my siblings and I have eyes ofexactlythesame color—earthy green with radiating waves of brown and gold. If nothing else, our eyes proclaim that we’re related.

“You’re lucky I came at all.”

“Nice to see you, too, little sis.” He smirks and clamps his hand on my shoulder. “Come with me.”

With a groan, I grab his hand and pull it off me. “Don’t touch me, dickface.”