by Evie Harper
He grins wickedly and says, “Good.”
Joey stands from the table. “We should get going now. The appointment’s in half an hour.”
I nod. “Okay.” I finish eating my last piece of bacon and drop my plate in the sink. I hurriedly move to my bedroom and wash my hands and brush my teeth.
I put on my navy-colored platform sandals on just as Joey walks in.
Standing, I brush down my quarter-sleeve, navy blouse and white cotton shorts, perfect clothes for the humid heat that will hit us when we leave this air-conditioned house.
Joey is wearing jeans and a tight black T-shirt, one that displays each prominent bulge in his upper arms. Boy, am I lucky!
“Ready?”
“Yep.” I pick up my white clutch from the dresser, which holds the fake ID Alexander got for me to give to Mr. Diaz.
When Alexander gave me the ID, I swear I would have looked like a deer caught in headlights. How does an ID happen when a picture isn’t taken? Then Alex informed me that he found a picture of me on Joey’s phone. Joey exploded at hearing this, and with good reason as, not all the pictures of me on his phone are PG. Alexander got out of that argument alive, but with a smashed iPhone. I thought that was fair.
Sitting in the passenger seat of Joey’s black Mazda Panama, I watch him continually tap his fingers on the steering wheel.
After a while, I place my hand over his tapping ones. “It’s going to be okay.”
He glances to me as he turns into the parking lot of the lawyer’s office. Anxiety fills his usually confident eyes.
He parks the car and exhales loudly. “Just promise me if anything goes wrong, if something feels off, you will get up and come straight back to me. I know you can handle yourself. You’ve definitely proven that in the last few years, but goddamn, my heart can’t take anymore.”
I laugh softly. “I promise.”
I press my lips against his in a tender kiss and then open my door and step out.
The parking lot is at the rear, so I have to walk around to the front to the main entrance.
When I walk through the glass doors, I see a reception desk and a woman with carefully created curls in her long, black hair sitting behind it. I get closer and read her nametag, ‘Ana’.
She peers up at me from her computer and smiles.
“Hi, my name is Sonia Garcia and I have a ten o’clock appointment with Mr. Diaz.”
The woman’s smile falters, but for only a moment before she replies, “Thank you for coming in, Miss Garcia. Please take a seat while I make sure Mr. Diaz is ready for you.”
I nod and take a seat in a grey chair in the waiting area.
Two minutes later, a balding, large man in a suit stares straight at me and greets me. “Miss Garcia, please come through this way.”
With a smile, I stand. “Thank you.”
I follow the man to his office. As soon as I enter the room, my palms begin to sweat, and my face heats up. Immediately, I skim the walls for the painting. Spotting three paintings, my mind races. Did Alexander say which painting? Shit!
The man offers me a seat opposite his mahogany desk. I thank him and take it.
The room is painted white with bookcases and cabinets placed around the room, most on either side of a painting. It would have been so much easier to pick a painting if only one had nothing in front of it where someone would stand to open a safe!
Mr. Diaz's desk holds a large computer screen and printer with piles of papers and files scattered across the top. Nothing seems to be in any sort of order.
He pulls the keyboard toward him and clicks a few buttons and asks, “So, Miss Garcia, you are having a will drawn up today?”
“Yes,” I say with a shaky smile. My hands are trembling, and I’m desperately trying to calm my racing heart.
Mr. Diaz gives me a warm smile. “No need to be nervous. I know organizing a will can be daunting. It signifies that one day, we all die, but being able to leave our loved ones things from us will comfort them after we’re gone. You’re doing a good thing.”
I offer a grateful smile and force my shoulders to relax. I’m mortified that he noticed how nervous I am.
There’s a knock on the door followed by a panicked female voice.
“I’m so sorry to disturb you, Mr. Diaz. I need your help urgently. The kitchen has flooded somehow. I’ve tried to find where the water is coming from, but all the taps are off, and I have no idea what to do.”
Mr. Diaz jumps up from his chair and sputters, “I’ll be right back. Let me see to this quickly.”
“Please, take your time. That sounds awful,” I offer, hoping he really does take his time.
Mr. Diaz leaves his office, and the receptionist reaches in, grasps the door handle, winks at me, and closes the door.
How on earth did she flood a kitchen?
I race to the painting closest to the back end of the room. The painting is of sailing boats floating on a blue sea. It really is quite beautiful. Jesus, Alexa, move it! I lift the painting carefully not to rip it off the wall and see behind, just white wall. Not that one.
Moving on to the next picture, which is of a man sitting alone at a bar with a drink in his hand. I peek behind it and again only white wall.
Again moving on to the third painting. Third time's a charm, right? This painting is of a ship on a furious sea during a storm. I glimpse behind it and bingo, a grey safe and black dial sit in the wall.
I push the painting up, but it doesn’t budge. I pull and it opens toward me. I step back to allow it to completely open to the left. It’s then I notice this painting is bolted to the wall on the left side.
I get to work and swing the dial.
Seven. Click.
Two. Click.
Six. Click.
Eight. Clank.
The door loosens, and I pull on the heavy metal door, and it swings open to the right. My eyes instantly search the safe. The metal box is filled with files stacked on top of each other. I pull out the top three and search for the name Michael O’Connor. It’s not in the top three so I place those on the floor next to my feet and look through the next three. The second one is Michael’s.
My heart is beating heavy and panicked. I open the file clumsily trying to move as fast as I can. I pull out the papers and skim my eyes over the normal details, which would be in a will. On the third page at the bottom, I spot his sons’ names and read the whole passage thoroughly.
To my sons, William, Alexander and Matthew, I leave you the O’Connor empire. The Guerrero coastal road, the hotels in Acapulco Bay and the brothel in Magallanes. And that is all.
I know I made certain agreements, promises you might say, about revealing where your sister is, but I will be breaking it for your own good. Women are and have always been the weak link in any business. The O’Connor name is known for its strong men. Bringing a woman in will only tarnish it. So for that reason, I won’t be revealing where your sister is. Leave it alone and continue to build the O’Connor name for your own sons, and if you have daughters, do as I have done and remember our family legacy comes first.
Waves of nausea assault my body at reading how callous and cruel Michael truly is. Not only is he an absolutely disgusting asshole and worse than Marco, which is a hard feat to beat, he was never going to tell his sons where their sister was. I have no words for this type of deception. I’ve seen cruelty before, but this shocks me, and that’s hard to do these days.
I hear loud voices appear just outside the closed door.
Panicked, I hastily place the papers back in Michael’s file and place the three files back in and then bend down, pick up the first three I looked at and put them back as well.
I slam the safe door and cringe when a bang echoes around the room. I reach out and push the painting back against the wall just as the door to the room opens.
My body stills, every part of me too afraid to move except my pounding heart. I slowly glance back over my shoulder thinking I’m going to find a sho
cked and angry Mr. Diaz. But instead, a drenched and panting Mr. Diaz gives me an easy smile and points to the painting. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
He thinks I’m admiring the picture!
I take a careful, slow breath out and reply, “Yes, it is.”
He exhales heavily and says, “I’m very sorry, Miss Garcia, but we are going to have to reschedule. Somehow the staff kitchen has flooded, and I need to find where the leak is while I wait for the plumber to arrive.”
Placing my hands on my chest, I say with fabricated sincerity, “Of course, I’m so sorry about your kitchen. Just have your receptionist call me with a new appointment, and I’ll see you then.”
Mr. Diaz nods, walks me out and apologizes again for his unprofessionalism. I feel sorry for the man; he seems lovely. He just happens to have bad clients.
I walk casually out the front door and around the side of the building. I begin to jog to Joey when I know I’m out of sight.
I wrench open the car door and slide inside and look straight to Joey as he slumps back in relief.
“Joey,” I whisper, sadness seeping through my tone.
He pauses during his moment of relief to examine me and after seeing no smile on my face, his posture turns from casual to tense. “Fuck. What happened?”
“Everything went to plan. I found and read the will,” I explain quickly. “Michael didn’t keep his word. He explains in his will that his sons will get everything except the details on where and who their sister is. And how Michael can’t allow them to bring a woman in as an O’Connor heir and actually advises them to do the same if they have daughters.”
Joey leans his elbow on the window and presses his fisted hand to his now angry, thinned lips. He stares out the window and we sit in silence for a moment until finally he says something we probably all should have realized from the beginning.
“Why did we automatically believe he would stick to his word? Why didn’t we imagine he could be lying? I would have questioned my father straight away. Look at who he is.”
Joey is speaking out loud, but I get the feeling these words are meant for himself and his cousins.
Joey slams his fist down hard on the steering wheel. “Fuck!”
“Dom and Nick still might find out where she is,” I say, trying to calm him down.
Joey eyes bore into mine and all I see is fear in his.
“Things are about to get ugly, Lexi. We’re stuck in the middle of a shit storm, a war that has nothing to do with us, yet I’m terrified it’s going to be one of us who pays the price.”
Chills run through me as Joey starts the car, and we begin our journey back to Michael’s house, to where the battle is about to begin.
Chapter Twelve
Today Is A Big Day
Alexa
I’m thrown behind Joey as Matthew pulls his gun from his holster and waves it around.
“He has to die, today,” Matthew sneers, the muscles and veins in his neck strain against his skin. His body shakes furiously and his fingers turn white from the powerful grip he has on his gun.
Alexander swiftly steps toward his brother and in a deep, authoritative voice, he says, “No, we have to wait until we find our sister. You know it’s what Mother would have wanted, all of her children together.”
I continue to peek over Joey’s shoulder and watch as Matthew lowers his gun, and his body slumps back against the lounge as he sighs heavily.
I sense Joey’s body relax, so knowing it’s now safe, I step beside him. He gives me a look, which asks if I’m okay.
With slightly shaking hands, I nod and smile. I do trust Matthew, but anytime guns come out, it’s a frightening experience.
My eyes move to Matthew and Alexander, and my heart breaks for them. They appear defeated. They were excited when we walked through the door. They really thought all of this would be over today, that they could get revenge for their sister and mother, and begin their new lives, Michael-free.
I glimpse over my shoulder when I hear footsteps and see William striding quickly into the living room. I cross my arms over my chest and rub my upper arms, not looking forward to seeing the same devastated look on his face.
“Where’s Michael?” Joey asks sternly.
Will’s eyes swing to Joey. “Still at the hotel. The meeting ran over, and I told him I was heading out to grab some lunch.” His eyes then move to me and without missing a beat, he asks eagerly, “So, where is she? What’s her name?
Joey explains everything to Will. He doesn’t react like Matthew, gun blazing, wanting Michael dead, and he doesn’t react like Alexander, who cursed and yelled. No, William goes to the window and stares out to the vast ocean in silence.
We all look at each other, waiting for his reaction, for an explosion, but it never comes. Instead, he turns around calmly and offers up another plan.
“We go back to the hospital and courts in the States. This time, we use force, blackmail, whatever we have to. Father is paying people to keep this hidden. Let's weed them out with pain.”
Matthew stands quickly. “Then Father still dies today. We have other ways to find our sister. He doesn’t need to be breathing any longer than we’ve already granted him.”
Casually speaking about murder isn’t something I’m used to, but it doesn’t shock me either. I wanted Marco dead for years, would have done it myself had he not been Joey’s father. Some people in this world cannot be allowed to continue to breathe, yet even death is too good for them. And those helping Michael keep their sister a secret? I do feel bad for what will happen to them, but you pay the price for helping the devil.
William goes to Matthew, puts his hand on his shoulder and squeezes. “I understand, brother. We’re so close to ridding our lives of our father. We can almost taste it, but if we’re smart, we’ll keep him alive until we find our sister. Who knows what other walls will be thrown up. And if we do hit another roadblock and there is no way around it, then we’ll torture him until he dies and hopefully, he’ll give us the information we want.”
Alexander scoffs. “Father will never give it up under any circumstances, even torture. We were fools to think he would do it after his death. Fools,” Alexander grits out the words in a growl. “But I do agree we need to keep him around for a little while longer, in case he has destroyed the birth certificate and hospital reports.”
All three brothers look to me and Joey.
“Joseph, will you keep your word and not harm Michael until we find our sister? Will you stay and help us?”
With everything that’s happened and meeting Joey’s cousins, I’d forgotten why Joey was here, what his end goal was.
Joey glances at me and his eyes show his decision is already made, but he’s asking me for permission first. He wants to help his cousins. He wishes to stay and see this through. I smile because that makes me happy. Joey is with his blood family and they're all working together as a team. That’s something Joey’s never had. It may be a twisted mission, but this is our normal. Maybe it’s time to embrace this life. At least this time, we’re on the good side, with better men who only know how to live bad lives, but still men who fight for what’s right and fair.
I’m so sick of fighting for better, struggling against a tide that’s never going to change. Joey was born and bred into this kind of life. Constantly battling it has only weakened and separated us. I’d forgotten what I learned growing up; people die all the time, people I love. I should live as if tomorrow will be our last day.
I watched Nick and Sarah and envied their normalcy, but Joey and I have never been normal. Suburban life could destroy us even worse than a life of guns and mafia. Could we live the same day repeatedly, wake up, go to work, come home and watch television? Weekends with yard work and maybe dinners out. Could we be normal after our chaotic, ugly pasts? Or would our pasts slowly destroy us with memories of the horrors we’ve seen. Perhaps we need purpose, chaos, and travel to distract us.
Passionate nights and new kinds of days, every
day.
Acceptance.
A heavy weight lifts off my chest. We are in the best possible place for the both of us at this moment of our lives. Moments, that’s what life is about, taking them, owning them and making them count. Then hopefully one day, when we can look back at all those moments all together, they can show us a happy, lived-to-the-fullest life.
I nod to Joey with a huge smile.
He narrows his eyes on me and replies, still looking at me, "Yes. It seems like we’ll be staying.”
He then turns to his cousins. “I won’t take Michael out as long as I know you all have Alexa’s back and will keep her protected. This house, our lives, will never be safe as long as he is alive, so I’ll only let this go on for as long as I think Alexa will be secure. If I think she’s in danger, directly, or indirectly, I’ll take matters into my own hands.” Joey’s voice is loud and clear with a confidence that leaves no room for argument.
Matthew, Alexander, and William all nod and agree at the same time.
“You have our word, Joseph,” Matthew states, and then his eyes swing to me. “We can see why you love her. Alexa is caring, loyal and fiercely protective of you. We welcome her with open arms into our family. We’ll do whatever we have to do to keep her safe, and maybe one day she will think of us as family, and we’ll also be blessed with her fierce loyalty.”
Tears threaten to escape as my heart bursts with happiness. Not only at the fact that they want me here, but because of how they see me. I haven’t seen myself that way in a very long time.
I glance at Joey, who’s staring at Matthew, the corner of Joey’s lips tip up slightly and he nods in thanks, with sincerity shining in his eyes. He knows how much those words mean to me these days.
My glassy eyes find Matthew again. “Buddy, that speech just got your foot in the door,” I joke, and we all laugh.
