Page 3 of Tell Me No
It was a devastating blow when I finally found the photographic evidence of what happened to the girl I was contracted to find. She held out a lot longer than most of his victims, but in the end, death was a welcome reprieve from everything else she’d endured. Now my only goal is to wipe this shit stain from the face of the earth. And I’m going to do it with a smile on my face. I wish I could inflict even half of the torture he’s handed out onto him before ending his life, but it’s too risky. And I don’t take risks. Clean shots are what I pride myself on.
I take a deep breath, forcing down the adrenaline rushing through my veins and reentering my scope on Figueroa’s head. He’s been standing out behind his night club, smoking a joint with his second in command, for the last five minutes. I know the window to make my shot is closing quickly. Lining up the shot, my finger ghosts over the trigger, waiting for the moment I need. I pull the trigger the exact moment someone opens the back door and Figueroa moves a fraction of an inch, my shot barely grazing the back of his head before burrowing into the brick wall behind him.
I missed. I never fucking miss.
“Motherfucker,” I mumble, already breaking down my rifle and packing it up. I hear shouting from down below. My position is compromised and I only have seconds before they figure out where I’m perched. I swing my bag onto my back, hustling down the back of the berm I’ve been using for cover to where my bike is parked. In less than 30 seconds, I’m on the road back towards home. The earpiece I have tapped into their communication outlets is relaying their locations to me, so I’m able to avoid them easily on the back roads. That was a lot fucking closer than I ever want to be again. I’m one of many who are always trying to get a shot off at a cartel member, but it’ll be that much harder for me to find a second chance to take that piece of shit out.
I’m ten miles from home when my personal cell rings. I see Iris’s name flash on the screen and answer. “Yes?”
“Well hello, papa bear. How’s your cave?” His annoyingly cocky tone is something I’ve always come to expect when we talk.
“Something I can do for you?” I ask, ignoring his attempt at getting a rise out of me.
“Well… I have a delicate matter to discuss with you. You got a second?” Iris asks, his voice suddenly sounding anxious.
“Give me a second and I’ll be home.” I hang up without another word. What the fuck could he possibly have to talk about that is remotely delicate? Iris has always been the most immature of anyone in our old unit. He’s a good guy, don’t get me wrong. I’d trust him with my life. But life is one big party for him.
I pull through my wrought iron security gates, kicking up gravel as I make my way down the long driveway. The garage door opens as I approach and glide in easily. Closing the door behind me, I cut the engine and toss my bag onto the floor. Still straddling my bike, I pull my gloves off and dial him back.
It rings three times before he answers, mumbling something to whoever he’s with. “That was quick, daddy,” he says, the name they all call me grating against my nerves. I’m older than all of them by no less than 5 years, but I’m hardly old enough to be anyone’s dad.
“What the fuck do you need, asshole?” I ask.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I just thought you might like to know who I saw tonight,” he says, baiting me. I hate playing games.
“If you’ve got something to say, then fucking say it. I’m tired,” I snap back at him.
“Well, Helo and I went out to Charleston tonight. Just looking to blow off some steam. I finally talked him into going to that strip club on the river, Bombshells,” he goes on and on, his stories always taking a lot longer than they need to.
“Land your fucking plane, Iris. Whats the point?” I grumble.
“You’ll never believe who we saw there, Break. At first, I didn’t think it was her. Helo insisted, but I’ve never seen her all dolled up like she was,” he says.
“Who the fuck are you talking about?” I ask, wondering why he thinks I’d give a fuck about some bitch at a strip club.
“But I’d recognize those tattoos anywhere!” He says excitedly, and my blood runs ice cold. He’s not about to tell me what I think he is. There’s no way.
“What tattoos?” I ask, my voice dark and gravelly.
“Her sleeve. Eli’s work is easy to spot. Besides, how many girls do you know that have full sleeves of wildflowers and still look like a fucking smoke show?” He asks, laughing.
His description of Aurora makes my blood boil. No one on this earth should be looking at her that way. She’s too good, too perfect for anyone else.
“What the fuck are you talking about? You better make yourself crystal fucking clear right now and be very sure, Iris.” I snap, my control barely hanging by a thread.
I don’t know why that little hellion gets under my fucking skin so badly. But she’s burrowed into me, slammed through every defense I’ve built, and permanently etched herself into my stone heart.
“Breaker, I’m very sure. We talked to her. She’s a bartender there on the weekends apparently,” he says cheerfully. My mind runs through every scenario that could possibly lead to Aurora working at a strip club in any capacity. I have no rational reason as to why she would resort to that.
“A fucking strip club?!” I shout.
“Hey, hey chill, dude. She’s not on the pole or anything. She’s just serving drinks.” He’s trying to diffuse the anger rolling through me, but he won’t.
I hang up before he can say another word. Visions of her in that club, men ogling her like she’s a piece of meat, assault my mind. I try to push them away, but I can’t. They’re live and in color, playing on repeat like a fucking horror movie. I’ve avoided the coffee shop all week since my involuntary show of jealousy on Monday. Before I realize what I’m doing, I open the garage door, start my bike, and pull back out onto the road towards Charleston. It’s not that I don’t believe what Iris is telling me, but this I have to see for myself.
I know I have no claim over her. She doesn’t answer to me or anyone else, as far as I know. But obviously she needs someone to answer to. Someone to tell her the choices she’s making are stupid and dangerous. She doesn’t belong in that world. She’s so much better than that. Why can’t she see it?
By the time I get to the club, fury is rolling off me like a fucking tsunami. I’m trying to tone it down, knowing if I burst through the doors like this, somebody is gonna die tonight. Not to mention the fact that Aurora will be pissed at me, not that I care much about that. The parking lot is packed, the bass from inside seeping out onto the streets.
