Page 99 of The Right Garza
“Okay, okay, I get it. None for me,” he grouches, holding his hands up. The man even has the gall to pout. “Nice doing business with you again, Trenton.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Trent spits. He turns with me and starts to walk off, then makes a sharp pivot, jerks forward, and freaking head-butts Stefano.
From the unexpected attack, Stefano loses his balance and topples back into the pool.
Water splashes on all of us.
Seconds later Stefano’s head bobs up, sputtering water.
“That’s for not letting me talk to my woman when I called, you fucker,” Trent growls.
Stefano laughs maniacally. “So, not my left side or my right side, huh, Lexi? But right in the middle.” He laughs some more, treading the water. “Didn’t see that one coming. Do you think it will leave a mark?”
“Ireallyhope it does,” I tell him, and he winks.
As Trent cinches me to his side and carries me out, I take one last glance at Ellie’s lifeless body on the ground and think, five days earlierthatcould have been me.
Chapter THIRTY
“Let’s just say I didn’t care.”
Lexi
I just witnessed amurder.
The murder of someone I once thought of as a friend. Someone I once shared a bed with, meals with, jokes with.
Dead.In the blink of an eye. Just like that.
I’ve also just begged for a life to be spared. Someone who will have to live with a missing limb as a regrettable reminder to never again make the mistake of making decisions with his dick, but have hislifenonetheless.
None of it feels real. Like I’m in an awful dream or having an out of body experience.
“Talk to me, Lexi,” Trent pleads.
We’re in his jeep, speeding back to L.A. Tripp is sprawled on his back in the back seat, maybe asleep, maybe not. Last I heard of him he was sweet-talking someone on the phone and telling them to send him nudes.
For some reason, I haven’t been able to get a word out for over an hour now. What happened in Vegas isthemost horrifying things I’ve ever experienced and it’s hard to come to terms with it.
One could say I’m in shock.
One side of me is gut-wrenched that Ellie ismotherfreaking dead. While the other side keeps reminding me that, five days ago, that same gun was pointed atmyhead.
Out of greed, Ellie had set me up. Me. Someone who’s only ever been kind to her. Afriendto her. Looked out for her. Saved her when she landed herself in shit. Without a care or thought for me, she’d rolled the carpet of death toward me only for it to roll right back to her.
And only because I’m lucky enough to have people who genuinely care for me—the Garzas, who I spent years shutting out. I don’t deserve them, don’t deserve their loyalty.
“I…” I start, then stop to clear my throat, my voice hoarse from being quiet for so long. “I guess I’m just trying to process—”
“You don’t process shit like that,” Tripp’s gruff voice comes at me from the backseat. “You try to ‘process’ that and it’ll swell and grow in your head like a fucking tumor. Creep into the corners of your mind and fuck you up. Depression, anxiety, paranoia. Dump you into a swamp of insanity,” he goes on. “You gotta kick and punch that shit out of your head, give it no room to breathe. Shut that shitdownimmediately and fight like hell for your sanity. Tell yourself whatever you need to justify what you saw tonight. But don’t ‘process’.Never‘process’.”
My head falls back against the headrest, and I close my eyes. Seconds later, beyond my control, a tear rolls down my cheek. And then another.
All of what Tripp just said sounds like madness. But maybe madness is what I’ll need to prevent myself from going mad.
There’s no way to undo any of what happened tonight. But Icanfight like hell to make sure it doesn’t ruin me.
A large, warm hand covers mine on my thigh, and even in the wake of a nightmare the butterflies still flutter. Making me feel things. Sweet things. Things other than sorrow and fear and remorse.
