Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
I hate the sense of returning to where we started, especially when it seemed Enzo was starting to come around. He was actually sweet toward me, tender. I’m not fooling myself by remembering the concern etched all over his face and dripping from his voice when he checked me over to make sure I was okay. He could have protected himself alone but threw himself over me instead. That has to mean something.
Can I make that work in my favor now?
One thing is obvious: Josef Alvarez was lying when he said he wasn’t responsible for this shooting. Who else would be?
The more I think about it, the more I wonder if all of this isn’t partly my fault. I could have told him the truth from the beginning or at any point during this whole ordeal. Clearly, all Alvarez ever cared about was the drugs. Now I understand a lot of things I didn’t before. The shooting at the airplane hangar—obviously, he figured they were bringing the drugs to the meeting and wanted them back, no strings attached. Meaning killing the people who brought them back to him.
Meanwhile, Enzo thought it was me he was looking for. I guess it’s easy to look back now and see all the mistakes and all the ways this could have been avoided. At the time, they only thought I was doing my best to survive. I never meant to get anybody killed, not even that wicked old man.
I have no doubt Enzo is going to put that together sooner rather than later. Maybe I can somehow get ahead of him. I’ll tell him the full truth, all of it. I might be able to get through to him, especially if I tell him what Alvarez was really looking for all along. If all he wants is the drugs, it’s a simple matter of returning them.
Or… if Enzo still has the drugs, which I have no doubt he would, maybe he can use them in some other way. If Alvarez is that desperate to get them back, they must be something special. I don’t know anything about that, but I remember Enzo’s reaction when he tested them. He tried to hide it, but when I look back, it’s clear something about them intrigued him. Maybe he could sell them himself or find out how they were manufactured. He could still come out of this having gained something.
No, that won’t bring his grandfather back, but it might put Enzo in a better position to get his revenge. I have no doubt that’s what sits at the forefront of his mind since it’s what I would want if the only father figure I had was suddenly assassinated in front of me. How he’s going to get vengeance for the old man.
Even though he couldn’t have been a very nice man, and he certainly made me feel like a cheap piece of trash. I’ll never forget how pitifully Enzo reacted when he knew there was nothing to be done. That the man who had raised him was gone. Just remembering it now stirs pain in my chest. It’s dangerous to think of him as a lost little boy, but I can’t help it. That’s exactly who he was at that moment.
One thing I know for sure. There’s no way he’s going to be thinking clearly. I know he’ll hate it if I try to talk sense to him, but that’s what I have to do. I have to get through to him somehow. I have to make sure he sees the big picture and doesn’t get lost in his pain and rage. Not even only for my sake but for his own. He was dangerously close to losing it out there. People don’t make smart decisions when they’re in that state of mind.
And even though he’s got me locked in here, I still care. Probably too much. I don’t want to see him hurting any worse than he already is, and I wish there was a way I could take it away. Since I know that’s not possible, all I can do is try to keep things from getting any worse.
I have no idea how much time passes. I only know the light outside the little window changes as the sun moves across the sky and the day progresses. There isn’t even that much noise coming from the rest of the house, which strikes me as odd. I imagine Enzo throwing things around, screaming, threatening to burn the whole place down unless somebody starts giving him the answers he wants. Somehow, the silence is even more frightening than what I just imagined. Too many ugly possibilities exist in that silence.
The lock clicks. My heart is going to explode. My stomach feels like I’m on my way down the first big hill of a roller coaster.