Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Alejandra seemed lost for words, and then she turned to me, probably trying to gauge how to answer that. When she saw she wasn’t about to get any help from me, she looked down at the table, running her fingers gently along the grain of the polished wood. A sad smile crossed her face as she told my sister quite honestly, “I am the badness your brother is involved in.”
Graceful, even in certain death.
Tonya blinked at her, brow low in puzzlement, before letting out a long sigh. She shook her head slowly and chuckled. “Well, that’s a relief.”
My sister was not what one would call subtle. “Tonya…”
Her eyes wide, she said, “What?” She looked at Alejandra, and stated, “She’s not that bad. I have to admit, I expected worse. I mean,” she snuffled, amused, “what could she have possibly done, Jay?”
I let out a humorless laugh before straightening and glaring at my sister. “You have no idea.”
Tonya looked to a pale Alejandra, reached over and patted her hand kindly. “Don’t you worry now. Jay will help you get out of trouble.” My sister looked up at me without a shadow of a doubt, in complete confidence, as if I hung the stars at night. “Won’t you, Jay?”
Alejandra smiled at my sister, grasping her fingers like a lifeline. But her smile wobbled, and when she spoke, her voice shook. “I don’t know if he can help me. I really messed up. My own family has written me off.”
Tonya responded confidently, “He will help you. It’s what he does.”
Alejandra let out a short bark of laughter, and I knew what she was thinking. She was thinking how wrong my sister was, but she declined the opportunity to correct her. And I was grudgingly grateful for it.
I shouldn’t have gone there, but I can’t help myself. I silently wonder what it would be like had I brought Alejandra to meet my sister under different circumstances. I would seat her by my side, where a woman like Alejandra belonged, and be proud to show her off. Rest my arm on the back of her chair in a display of ownership and hold her close every possible moment. Every motherfucker would know she was mine and I’d treat her like the queen she was.
The unexpected vision leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
Regardless of how much I denied it to myself, I wanted Alejandra, and not just to warm my bed. I wanted her for my own. She had a light in her eyes that called to the darkness in mine, her very presence calming. She got me, got this life, understood the way things were. It was tough for a person to be as gracious and kept together when you and yours lived off spilled blood, but Alejandra did it with ease.
I wanted her.
I wanted her so bad I ached inside.
But it was a moot point. I’d never have her, and it damn near killed me inside.
Under different circumstances.
Now, as we drive along the highway with the radio barely audible, I keep my eyes on the road, but can’t stop myself from asking, “Why didn’t you call me out?”
She glances at me from the passenger side before turning back to the window and grumbling, “What good would it have done? It’s clear your sister loves you.” She sighs softly. “I’m not about to make your life shitty just because mine is.”
“You don’t have to be afraid of me, Ana. I don’t have a hidden agenda. You don’t have to watch your back.” Her sad eyes come to rest on me, unblinking. I hold her stare a moment before turning back to the road. “I’ll stab you in the front.”
An amused scoff. “Well, that’s a relief.”
This entire situation tires me out, mentally and physically. She doesn’t understand that I am at war with myself. My rough statement comes out quiet and weary, “It fucking should be, you ungrateful bitch.”
I feel her still, likely surprised by the foul and unexpected statement, my offending words hanging in the air like a bad smell.
Has she any idea what keeping her alive would cost me?
My job. My allies. My fucking life.
It means nothing to her.
Her muteness begins to get to me. “You hungry?”
“Uh, yes. Yes, I am,” she responds carefully, quietly, as if I would be cruel enough to deny her food. And it suddenly makes me realize that her careful responses and reaction are likely because someone had been that cruel to her. But who?
“Are burgers okay?”
Blinking in thought, she nods. “Sure. I mean, I’ve never had one before, but food is food.”
I do a double take, grateful that what I said in anger hasn’t affected her too much. “You’ve never eaten a burger before?” Lips pursed, she shakes her head, and I see nothing but raw honesty in her eyes. “How is that even possible?”