Just as I was settling down into one of the empty chairs, my phone chimed.
RITCHIE: What time does your flight land again?
I typed my reply and hit send.
ME: 1:00 pm on Aeromexico.
I pulled back the tab on an energy drink I had in my bag and chugged it, hoping the caffeine would keep me awake until I got on the plane. A few minutes later my dad responded.
RITCHIE: Ok, I'll be there. Fly safe, sweetheart. Bash can't wait to see you.
Holding back tears, I powered down my phone to save the battery and slumped in the chair. I still had a few hours before the check-in counters opened, and time couldn't move fast enough.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Brando
I pulled to a stop in front of East Street Ink. The two-story brick building was in a sketchy area of the island. And by sketchy, I mean it wasn't the kind of place most upstanding citizens would be caught walking around in at night. Luckily, I wasn't an upstanding citizen, and running a business there had been cheap. Those who dared knew where to find me, and business had always been good.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside. The floor creaked under my feet, and the faint smell of bleach filled my nose. I'd opened the shop just a few months prior. For a while, I'd been working out the house I'd shared with my brother, but when Jonna moved in, she wasn't happy about all the traffic in and out of the house. Being forced to adjust the way I did business was nothing compared to the way Mack had changed his entire life. He told me in a rare moment after a few too many beers that Jonna had brought light to his darkness. Knowing that a man like my brother could transform for a woman was a powerful revelation. One I didn't truly understand until my time had come.
I went through the space, flipping on the lights as I made my way to the back office. A loud crash sounded on the other side of the door that divided the front of the shop from the back. I reached under my shirt and pulled my piece from the holster. Carrying a gun was a necessity in my world. My brother and I had done what we could to cut ties and break bad habits, but that didn't mean people weren't out there still looking for payback.
I walked as softly as I could down the hall toward the direction of the noise, keeping my gun raised and ready. More shuffling sounded from behind the office door, so I slowly turned the knob, ice filling my veins, and I prepared myself for whatever I was going to find. The noisy ass fucking door creaked the second I pushed it open, "Fuck," I whispered to myself. So much for a sneak attack. So I crashed through the door with all the power I could, full of adrenaline.
"What the fuck?" Todd yelled, his eyes big as he spun around in the office chair and a soft shriek followed from a girl with bright pink hair who was straddling his lap. I stood there speechless for a second. So many things went through my mind. Todd's bare ass cheeks were no doubt touching the seat of my expensive leather chair. Was that Mindy or Misty trying to tug down her tiny tank top to cover her large breasts? Why the fuck was half the shit from my desk scattered across the floor? However, the most disturbing thought of all was that I had just crashed through that door prepared to die and I wasn't even scared.
"Get the fuck out of my office, Todd. I told you about this shit," I said, my tone showing more annoyance than anger. It was a reaction much calmer than he deserved. I returned my gun to the holster at my back, the ice in my veins quickly dissipating.
"You asshole," Todd mumbled under his breath as he moved to stand. Misty or Mindy slid off his lap, tugging her skirt down and straightening her top. There wasn't an ounce of fear in her eyes as she raked them over me from head to toe.
"Hey, I'm Missy. You must be Brando." Her ruby red lips slid into a seductive grin. I jerked my head into a nod but didn't say anything more. A second later, Todd was pushing Missy out of the office.
"Really?" I heard him saying as they disappeared down the hall. Twenty minutes later I had returned all the items on my desk, sprayed down my chair with sanitizer, and cussed Todd out some more. I technically couldn't fire him because he was my business partner. It was the only reason I put up with his shit. I'd put up the money to open the shop and paid for the entire building in cash. Todd, who also went by the racing name, Showtime, had the connections. He'd lived on the island his whole life, he was a respected racer on my brother's list, and he'd done a little inking on the side, but Todd was more of a scratcher. He had no formal training, which meant his work was rough and inconsistent. He was also more likely to leave clients angry and unsatisfied. Sometimes my time was spent trying to correct his mistakes, to do what I could to salvage the reputation of the shop. Problems like that were never good for business.
Money had also started to come up missing, not large sums but enough to be suspicious. For a while I'd been doing the books, trying to keep it all legit. When business started to pick up, I’d hired a bookkeeper. It was hard staying up until 3:00 a.m. sorting out financial shit after working all night on a piece. The most obvious person was Todd, except I didn't think he was smart enough. Besides, I would have already caught him. Three other people worked in the shop. Then there was Rosie. I hated when people thought they could get over on me.
It was time for a surveillance system.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Carina
After one ferry passage, a seventy-five-minute cab ride to Charlest
on, five hours on an airplane, and a layover in Atlanta, I'd finally made it to Guadalajara, Mexico. Compared to other trips, I was making good time. Standing in line at customs, however, had felt like torture. Each time the line inched forward, my legs trembled. The involuntary movement was gradual at first, with just an occasional twitch in my thighs, then with every advancement, I felt for certain everyone could hear my knees knocking together. Breathe, I told myself then began counting; one, two, three. Though I'd been making the same trip for almost a year, the customs agents weren't any less intimidating. While most of their faces had become familiar to me, I relied on being unmemorable to them.
My palms were sweating, so I dried them off against my cotton pants, switching my passport from one hand to the other. When my fingers grazed the scar on my thigh, I winced. The wound had healed long ago, but the skin was still tender where the nerves had separated. I'd become used to the dull ache whenever I overexerted myself. However, the pain had grown much more intense as soon as I landed. Perhaps being in the very city where I had taken a bullet meant for the man I loved had something to do with it.
When it was my turn, I stepped up to the counter and handed over my passport. The customs agent flipped it open and stared at my picture, then looked at me.
"Hi," I said with a shaky smile. The agent inclined his head sharply, then shifted his eyes back to my passport. He must have been new because I couldn't remember seeing him before. My knees shook so bad I thought they might give out. I used my suitcase handle for support and resumed counting...eighty-eight, eighty-nine, ninety.
"First time in Mexico?" He pronounced it Meh-hee-co, leaving out the X. I nodded quickly but didn't speak. "Are you staying in Guadalajara?" The agent was asking a lot of questions, more than anyone I'd ever encountered. Most barely spared me a glance as they stamped my passport and sent me along. My heart began to sink, and I worried I would get caught.
"No, I'm going to Lake Paraiso," I answered, then added, "I'm meeting friends at..." I tried to think of an event or something to beef up my story. "The art festival, Viva La Vida," I shouted a little too loudly, then smiled shyly. "I believe that's what it's called." I spent several years at the lake and new their events well. The agent stared blankly for a moment, then decided he didn't know, or maybe he didn't care. With a shrug, he picked up his stamp and slammed it down on a blank page in my passport.
"Enjoy your, erm, festival, Señorita Samantha Stephens." The agent handed me the booklet then waved me to the side and beckoned the next person forward. I wasted no time putting as much ground space between me and the customs area. Once I was out of the airport, I breathed a quick sigh of relief. Success. The mid-day sun burned bright against the cloudless sky. I shielded my eyes and looked around for my father. When I didn't seem him, I sent a text letting him know that all was well and that I was waiting outside. Then I sent off a similar message to my brother before calling him out on what I'm sure he felt was a clever move.