by Dee Garcia
“Oh my gosh, I'm so rude. Hi, I'm Callie.” She leaned forward and extended her hand to which I followed. We shook briefly and I waved her off, offering her a smile.
“No worries. I'm Eden, Gio’s sister.”
“Ahhh, so you're Eden. I've heard a lot about you.”
I glared at my brother from the corner of my eye. “All good things, I hope.”
Callie nodded surely. “Very good things, I promise.”
“I'm hurt you'd think I'd shit talk you, li’l sis,” said Gio in the most playful voice I'd heard since before he landed in the hospital.
I stuck my tongue out at him to which he flipped me off playfully.
“Anything hurting in specific today?” Callie asked.
Returning his attention to her, he shook his head. “Not really. My legs are achy, but that’s about it.”
“Have you gotten out of bed?”
“No.”
“Then that’s why they’re achy.” She gave him a knowing look. “After you have dinner, we’ll try walking the walls. How does that sound?”
“It includes you, so that sounds fantastic to me.”
Silence.
An awkward silence that confirmed it was my time to go. Leaning over, I kissed my brother’s cheek.
“I’m gonna get going.”
“No, Petal, stay,” he said, grabbing my hand as I rose to my feet.
I gave it a squeeze and smirked. “I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise.”
“Petal…” he persisted, but I shook my head and mouthed to him “Behave” as I backed away to the door.
“It was nice meeting you, Callie.”
She pivoted the stool toward me and smiled brightly. “You too.”
“Take good care of my brother?”
Her smile grew in tenfold. “Oh, I will. Have no worries.”
With that thought in mind, I let myself out of Gio’s room and started down the hallway to the elevators with a newfound sense of hope involving his recovery. That hope was now wrapped up in a small, lovely package...and her name was Callie.
It's amazing how things can change in the span of a few weeks. Had you asked me just three months ago where I saw myself today, I would've said in a perpetual standstill. It’s what I’d grown accustomed to over the last year, and after trying and ineptly failing time after time to find the catalyst that would change it all for the better, I finally came to the conclusion it simply hadn't been the right time.
But apparently, now was the time.
The frayed pieces of my life had slowly but surely begun shifting back into place. Firstly, and most importantly, was Mama and her health. She was doing well, and I mean really well, despite the weaker moments where lying down or kicking up her feet was a necessity. For the most part, she was vibrant, smiling, living. The recent incident that had landed her in the hospital was considered a freak accident of sorts, spurred on by a high intake of caffeine. Short version of the story is she’d had one too many cups of coffee that didn't sit well with her medication, thus resulting in her blood pressure skyrocketing through the roof. The doc told her to lay off the caffeine, one cup maximum per day, and if she could do away with it in its entirety, even better. He’d also suggested decaf as an alternative, but Mama wouldn’t hear of it. As she said, and I quote, “Decaf was nothing more than dirt water with coffee flavoring.”
The shop was another crucial part of my life that was finally on the mend. After those first few days of an influx in customers, thanks to Eden’s helping hand, business had picked up all the more. Royce’s still couldn't compete with the big dogs, but it was significantly better. I was able to pay my personal bills, along with whatever Mama’s retirement couldn't cover, and all the bills for the shop too. I’d also been able to up Zak’s hours. The day I showed him the new schedule, his name tacked on almost every day of the week, his face lit up with excitement and he'd actually hugged me, thanking me over and over for the opportunity. Handing him that first paycheck, hours of hard-earned work reflected in the sum, was one of the most rewarding aspects of it all.
And then there was me. Eden had steadfastly become an essential part of my life. I didn't just want her. I needed her. Needed her in a way I'd never needed anyone before, the sheer extensity of what I felt for her sometimes hard to understand. I thrived when I was with her, and I couldn't remember the last time, if ever at all, I’d felt so alive in the presence of a woman. Perhaps my own fault for not letting them, always avoiding commitment and only allowing myself to indulge physically, but then I wondered if I'd done so because my heart was waiting for Eden? Unlike the rest, she had the ability to melt the world around us and keep me focused on her, on us. While we hadn’t yet sat down and firmly slapped a label on anything, we were both well aware of what this was and where it was swiftly heading. She was mine just as much as I was hers and no label could make it any more true.
I was in between the last two appointments for the day when my phone started buzzing in my pocket. Fishing it out, my eyes scanned over the text displayed on the screen and a slow grin spread across my face.
Angel: Netflix and chill tonight?
Choking out a laugh, I rolled my eyes and quickly typed out a response beneath the counter.
Me: You know damn well there’s no such thing as Netflix, Angel. It’s all about the chill...
Angel: ;) ;)
Me: Lol. Closing up at 6. How does 7 sound?
Angel: Sounds perfect. Chinese or pizza?
Me: Either works. I’m down for whatever you want.
Angel: You. I want you…
Me: You already have me…
Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I knew it was going to be nearly impossible to wrap up the day without watching the clock, but thankfully, my last appointment strolled in at the very moment my phone buzzed again, hindering me from pulling it out and responding to the blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty who was briskly weaving her way into my heart.
An hour later, the closed sign was hung on the door and Zak was sweeping up around the shop while I cashed out the registers and shutdown the computers for the evening. We were a tad behind schedule and it didn’t dawn on me until my eyes roamed over the clock that I wouldn’t have time to drop by Mama’s before meeting Eden at my place.
“Fuck,” I muttered to myself.
Zak’s head snapped up to where I stood behind the counter, the broom frozen in his grasp. “Everything okay, boss?”
“Yeah, all’s good. Just lost track of time. Can you finish cashing this one out while I close up the bays?”
“Of course.” He started toward me. “How much ya got there?”
“Five hundred,” I said, handing him the wad of cash.
“Five hundred, got it.”
I squeezed his shoulder as he took over and headed out the front door, pulling out my phone to call Mama. It rang several times before her sweet voice filtered in through the receiver.
“Hi, Mama.”
“Hi, baby, how was your day?”
“Busy, thankfully. How are you feeling?” I asked, rolling down the first door.
“A little tired, but nothing I can’t handle.”
“Take it easy, Mama, please.”
Her smile was palpable. “I will, honey, I promise. Just finishing up dinner, then I’ll be done for the evening. Are you coming by?”
“No, um”—I cringed slightly as I rolled down the second door—“that’s what I was calling you about, actually. I have plans in about an hour, and I’m just now closing up the shop.”
“Don’t worry about me, Xander. I’m perfectly fine. You go have fun.”
“Are you sure? I can stop by real quick if you need something.”
“No, I’m good,” she said in a singsong voice. “Enjoy yourself, you deserve it.”
“Okay… I’ll drop by in the morning then before I head to the shop.”
“Mhmm. Only if you have time.”
The way she said only shot my eyebrows up curiously as I sec
ured the lock in place. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, you know… Don’t want you cutting anything short for me.”
“Seriously, Mom, what is that supposed to mean?”
“Xander Royce, I was not born yesterday. I’m well aware of what ‘I have plans’ means. You've been acting like a lovesick puppy the last few weeks. Who is she?”
Jesus Christ, here we go.
“Ma, it’s not serious yet.”
“Key word, yet. So, you mean friends with the added benefits?” she asked, her question loaded with sarcasm.
I groaned and scrubbed a hand down my face. “Mama, just stop.”
“Okay, okay, fine,” she giggled. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, you're just like your father. Can't take a joke.”
“Not true. I can take a joke just fine but I draw the line when it treads into any sort of sex talk.”
“Because your Mama never had sex, right? How else do you think you were—”
“Ma! Please!” I shouted, scrunching my eyes tightly.
She giggled again, a clanking noise resounding in the background I recognized as the ladle banging against the pot. “Just be safe, Xander.”
“Always. I love you.”
“I love you too, baby. Have fun.”
If I’d learned anything from the month in which I'd known Eden, it's that she was never late. Say our plans were for 7 p.m., then I could expect her on my doorstep by 7:01 at the latest. So naturally when 7 o'clock rolled around, I wasn't the least bit surprised to hear the telltale rumble of her bike pulling up in my driveway. As per her request, I’d ordered Chinese from this little hole in the wall a few blocks away and was setting it all up in the living room when three brisk knocks sounded on the door.
She was on me the second I flung it open, her legs cinching around my waist, hands fisting my hair. Warm lips crashed into mine fervently, luring a groan from deep in my throat as I slammed the door shut with my foot and pressed her up against it.
“Hi,” she mumbled between soft kisses that were quickly becoming far more vicious.
“How was your day?” I managed to ask.
“Long and boring.” Kiss. “How was yours?”
“Long and busy,” I smiled through her assault. “Someone’s hungry.”
She nodded with my lip between her teeth. “Fucking starving.”
“You’re insatiable.”
“Says the man who’s pinning me against the door,” she pointed out with a grin.
“You started it, Angel. I’m just finishing it.”
“I’m nowhere near letting you finish it”—kiss—“so you better take me over to that couch and call an intermission, STAT.”
“Demanding little thing. What’s next? You gonna ask me to feed you dinner?”
“Maybe, maybe not, but I do know one thing you can feed me for sure.”
“And what’s that?”
“Dessert,” she purred, a sleek set of devil horns all but piercing her scalp.
Breathing through the rush of temptation, I chuckled softly and walked us to the living room, tossing her onto the couch before our food was left to be forgotten. “Let's eat. Depending on how well you behave will determine if you’re allowed dessert or not.”
After a five-minute debate on what to watch that included scrolling through the endless categories on Netflix, we finally settled on Narcos and dug into our separate containers of beef lo mein with chopsticks and all. Not fifteen minutes into the first episode, though, Eden deposited her dinner on the coffee table and pulled the end of my noodles into her mouth. Climbing into my lap, she slurped her way to my lips, chewing and swallowing down the stolen lo mein until our mouths fused as one.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked, dropping my chopsticks into the takeout box and discarding it onto the small table beside me.
Her arms came around my neck, her body pressed flush against mine. “I'm thirsty.”
“And what can I get you to drink?”
“Water, soda, beer. Whatever you got, really.”
I curled an arm around her waist and wound a hand around her ponytail, tugging her head back. She hissed, the sound aroused, and with her neck on full display, I nipped a trail along the smooth column up to her ear, biting down on the lobe. “Pick one.”
“You.”
“Not an option.”
“It is now,” she whispered, grinding into me with one slow roll of her hips that left my dick twitching beneath my basketball shorts.
“Wasn't it you who wanted to watch this?” I asked in attempt to delay her efforts.
“Wasn't it you who said it was all about the chill?” she countered, smirking.
“Well, yeah, but…”
“But nothing… I’ve had a long ass week, missed the hell out of you. I need you, X. Please?”
A sexy pout curled her lips, long eyelashes batting over big blue puppy eyes, breaking what little resolve I had in a millisecond. That angelic little look of hers did it every single time. Every single fucking time. She knew it too, hence why she worked the hell out of it.
Knowing I was a goner, she pulled her tank top over her head and dropped it on the floor, her bra following right after. Straddling my lap with her tits on full, glorious display, I did what any sane man would do. I snatched the control off the side table and shut off the TV, drowning us in darkness. We’d Netflixed...and now we were gonna chill.
“I-I swear I didn't steal from your father! I-I don't even know who he—”
I shove the handkerchief from his breast pocket into his mouth to shut him up and pull my weapon from the holster on my thigh. “The name Vincent Scarsi doesn't ring a bell to you?”
He shakes his head frantically, and I roll my eyes, bringing the blade up to his throat. “Shall I remind you? Tall, salt and pepper hair, dark eyes that can see into your soul, always donning a Versace suit?”
He shakes his head again, his eyes glistening with unshed fearful tears, and suddenly my heart stops. I feel like I can’t breathe as I watch him trembling in horror. He’s telling the truth, my subconscious yells but the other half of me, The Silent Reaper, refuses to believe his sob story. She’s focused on the task at hand and quickly reminds me he’s not the first mark to lie. They all try to weasel their way out of the consequences, one way or another.
I stifle down the great sense of uncertainty spreading through my bones, my pulse galloping a mile per minute, and press the blade firmly against his neck, holding his stare without falter. A few seconds tick by before I finally manage to grit out, “Save the spiel for Satan, Mr. Kingston.”
Then the blade punctures his skin, ripping layer upon layer as I drag it across his throat, warm droplets of blood splattering across my face as he begins to bleed out. His eyes gloss over, and I can literally see the moment death hones in on him, grabbing ahold of his soul and severing the connection from his body. The fear he felt clings to me, seeping so deeply into my pores I have to fight the urge to scream as I walk his semi-lifeless body to the edge of the dock and release him from my grasp...
A deep-rooted, guttural sob, strangled and despaired in sound, escaped me, echoing almost violently within the confines of my shower. Even standing directly beneath the scalding spray did nothing to erase the gruesome images attacking me without mercy.
What the hell is wrong with me?
That, ladies and gentlemen, was the very same question I’d been asking myself almost every day throughout the last month, mostly because that's how long it'd taken me to get through the remainder of my list. A month for three marks. I should’ve been able to accomplish that in days’ time, yet here I was, struggling to do the job I’d done for six years without issue. Each kill proved to be harder than the last, wearing me down a little more to the point I thought I might break out in a severe anxiety attack and completely lose my mind. The joy, the thrill, the high, it was gone. All of it. Vanished into thin air without any warning at all until I was face to face with Christian Magri and
my finger froze on the trigger. Eyes wide and heart racing, his face morphed into Xander’s as I pressed the Glock to his temple, and I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t fucking kill him. It took everything in me to medialize my thoughts and remind myself that he in fact was not Xander, and that he’d robbed thousands upon thousands of dollars from my father. Only then was I able to hurdle past the fear and send a bullet flying through his skull. Just like Jasper Devereaux. Kieran Lowell was no different and Remy Kingston, well, you saw how that went…
Guilt-ridden tears trickled down my face in a steady drip, melding with the water cascading over me. Through the stream distorting my vision, I stole a glance at the tiled floor, and the puddle at my feet—now clear and translucent—evoked a howl of such agonizing remorse to rip from my chest, I had to grasp the walls to keep me upright. A lie, it was all a fucking lie. There was no evidence of a life lost, no crimson tinge swirling in each droplet that told a story of death. With the amount of lives I'd taken, I should've been dripping blood, choking on every last drop I'd shed, not cleansed of my sins like an angel reborn time and time again.
I stood frozen in the same spot, endless tears gushing from my soul as emotion after blurring emotion slammed into me, suffocating me with years of repressed sentiments and memories.
“Make it stop. Please make it stop,” I cried out, digging my nails into the stone, my voice garbled, unrecognizable.
My chest ached, my heart on the verge of shattering, my lungs struggling to fill with air. I was shaking almost uncontrollably and not because the water had run cold, but because terror had consumed me in the most debilitating fashion and I had not a clue how to exorcise the demons that possessed me. Minute by minute, I was spiraling out of control, and the worst part of it all was that there wasn’t anyone to help me. Not my father, my brothers, no one, and it was my own fault. I knew better than to fall for a mark, yet somehow, I’d done it anyway. Maybe not intentionally at first, but I should’ve sensed it coming because everything about Xander was different. From the moment I saw him straddling that bike, I felt it. What it was I couldn’t put into words, not then and certainly not now, but it should have been enough to warn me off. Should have been enough to make me consider the consequences, like how sparing his life would compromise my loyalty to my family, forcing me to harbor a forbidden secret and spout lie after lie to make them all believe I’d done my job. That right there wasn't me. I wasn't a liar. I'd become one though and truthfully, it was preferable to the alternative. Had I done my job as expected, I would not have been able to live with myself because the thought of actually driving Xander six feet under was enough to bury me alive and catapult me straight to hell.
