Page 113 of Sinful Hearts
Emilio said he liked to keep a low profile in Chicago, so we slipped on the baseball caps from yesterday before shopping. He didn’t flinch at a single price tag as we shopped for a new phone and clothes. He also paid for everything in cash.
We ate tacos for lunch in the car, and now, we’re on our way to meet the baby. He called Aurora earlier, and she said they had left the hospital and were at Andre’s family’s estate.
When we reach thefamily estate, I’m reminded that while the locations and organizations may be different, so many of these crime families are similar. Like now, we’re stopped at a wrought-iron gate when we arrive.
These men aren’t only armed; they’re also wearing full tactical gear and masks. Security cameras watch us. The masked guards grip their rifles as one motions for Emilio to roll down his window.
Instead of doing that, he grabs his phone and texts.
At his lack of cooperation, a tall guard approaches us and bangs on the window with the butt of his gun.
I jump, slapping at Emilio’s shoulder, as if he suddenly went deaf and blind, not noticing the madman looking ready for murder.
To further prove his homicidal point, the man points the rifle at Emilio’s head.
“We’re outside the gate,” Emilio says into the phone. “Tell these fuckers to stand down.” He ends the call and tosses his phone in the cupholder.
The guard retreats a step seconds before the gate slowly opens.
A decked-out, bright blue golf cart with gold rims comes speeding through. Blinking, I notice Andre behind the wheel. He slams on the brakes and jumps off the cart, casually strolling toward us. You wouldn’t think the man was shot only a day ago.
Emilio waits until Andre is at his window before rolling it down.
Andre’s heavy gaze bounces from Emilio to me before returning to Emilio. He gestures to the right. “Park there. You know the drill. Andno guns.”
Emilio nods, turns the wheel, and parks on the side of the isolated road.
“Don’t tell anyone your name unless I introduce you first,” Emilio says to me, opening his door.
Okay.
Sounds very un-women’s rights, but whatever.
“What if someone asks me?” I throw out before he steps out.
He peers over his shoulder, and with a slight annoyance in his tone, he says, “I’ll do all the talking.”
“Do I pretend I’m a mute then?”
“Just let me do all the talking. Okay?”
“Okay.” I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “You do all the talking. I act like I don’t know words. Got it.” I wait until he’s out of the car and at my door before getting out.
We walk to the gate, where Andre is waiting in the golf cart. We climb in, and he guns the gas, driving down the long drive. The property is massive, sprawling with fountains and more weeping willows than I can count. Benches of different colors are beneath each tree.
It’s like we’re in a park that was designed when someone was tripping on LSD. Every few yards, I notice another armed guard. I scoot in closer to Emilio.
To get my mind off them and since Emilio still hasn’t asked, I lean forward and shout, “Niece or nephew?” to Andre.
“Niece,” Andre yells back.
I smile, peering over at Emilio, and notice a slight smirk on his lips.
Andre makes a sharp right, and Emilio wraps his arm around my shoulders to stop me from flying out of my seat.
Jesus. He’s a new dad.
Someone needs to teach him about safe driving.
