Page 12 of Domino
As if Maggie’s words summoned him, Cole walks into the living room and looks up at me, an uncertain smile on his face. He reaches a hand up to me, and I take it with my free hand, gently squeezing it. His big dark eyes are so innocent, his face so gentle. He’s got such a tender spirit about him and I don’t want anything to change that. To ruin his innocence. It’s that thought that makes the decision finally take root in my mind.
“I have to go, Mags. I need to pack some things and get out of here,” I say.
“Good girl. Call me from the road. Promise me.”
“I will. And Mags?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For everything.”
“Go. You can thank me later,” she says.
“I love you.”
“Love you, too, hon. And good luck.”
Chapter Six
Domino
“Tell me what he said again,” Prophet says.
Cosmo and I are sitting at a table with the prez in the clubhouse, washing away the road dust with a cold beer. We thought he’d only be slightly disturbed, maybe just a bit pissed off. But Prophet’s face is red, his nostrils are flaring, and he looks like a man who wants to rip somebody’s head off with his bare hands. And right then, I’m pretty sure he could do it.
After taking a long swallow of his beer, Cosmo sets the bottle down and recounts the story once more. For the third time. And when Cosmo’s done, Prophet sits back, his expression dark, and a fierce scowl on his face.
“We need to teach these pricks a lesson. We’re not gonna have them thinkin’ they can just roll into our town and not pay a price for it,” he says.
“Is antagonizing them the best thing, Prez?” I ask.
His eyes shift over to me with a look that could curdle milk and I find myself wishing I hadn’t said a word.
“This is our town, kid. We have rules here. Standards. And there’s no doubt in my mind that these scumbags don’t meet our standards. You disagree?” he asks.
“I—no, you’re right.”
Cosmo shifts in his seat. “Afraid I have to agree with the kid here, Prophet. I don’t know that starting a war with these guys is in anybody’s best interest. These are the kinds of assholes who will go shoot up Blue Rock just because. I don’t want any innocents caught in the crossfire. And I know you don’t.”
Prophet drains the last of his beer and slams the bottle down on the table, then signals for Derek to bring him another. None of us say a word as he brings over a fresh round for all three of us. Prophet’s got this faraway look on his face, but his fist is clenched as tight as his jaw and I realize there’s more going on here than what he’s saying. This deal with the cartel is somehow personal for him.
“What’s goin’ on, Prophet?” I ask. “I mean, really. You seem to want to wipe the cartel out of existence. But why?”
He snatches up his bottle and drinks half of it down, seeming to ignore my question. Setting the bottle back down on the table, he looks over at me, the anger etched into every line on his face. Cosmo glances at me, and I can see that not even he seems to know what is behind Prophet’s intense hatred of the cartel.
“What is it, Prez?” Cosmo asks. “Even the kid here can see there’s somethin’ more going on here and that’s sayin’ somethin’, because he’s dumb as dirt.”
I give Cosmo the finger, but smile, knowing he’s just trying to lighten the mood in a room that’s suddenly gotten very heavy with tension. Even Prophet grins at that. He sighs and leans forward, folding his hands together on top of the table, looking at each of us in turn.
“A while back, I was with a special ops team and we were doing some covert work against the cartels. Came across a village down there who’d resisted working for the cartel and found a mass grave. Seventy-two men, women, and children had been murdered, beheaded, and tossed into the fucking pit,” he says.
Cosmo and I exchange an uneasy glance. Prophet is staring off into the distance, his mind traveling back to that day, and it’s as if he’s seeing it all playing out in front of him again. This is obviously a really painful memory for Prophet and the look on his face is one of sheer agony. It makes me feel like an utter asshole for bringing this up in the first place.
“In that village, I found that some people had been crucified. Left there, nailed to crosses, to rot in the fucking sun. There was a girl, maybe nine or ten, named Maria, among them. We’d done some work in that village before. Knew most of ’em. Good people, and Maria was a sweet kid. Really sweet fuckin’ kid. Loved Snickers and pop music. Said she wanted to be the next Britney Spears,” Prophet says.
The pain in his voice is as fresh as if this happened yesterday, not years ago. It’s the one time I’ve ever heard that kind of emotion in Prophet’s voice and I find it a bit unsettling. I didn’t think anything could rattle the man.
I still see her eyes. It was like she was lookin’ right at me. Through me. It was like she was accusing me. Askin’ me why I wasn’t there to save her,” he said, his voice low and husky. “So yeah. I hate the fuckin’ cartels and I will do everything in my power to wipe them the fuck out.”
