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a hint of a smirk toying with her lips that doesn’t come to fruition. She shakes her head.

“My grandmother’s cruelty knows no bounds,” she says.

“That’s the fucking truth,” I say, way more bitterly than I meant to.

She props her elbow on the table, rests her chin in her hand, and cocks her head to the side a little. Her mouth forms a perfect pout that makes me want to kiss her. After all this time, I still would.

“Do you ever miss it here?” she asks.

I almost laugh. She can’t be serious.

“Fuck no. My common ground here died with Charlie on our fucking kitchen floor.”

Here we go. My pent-up aggression and anger. She actually winces, and I hear a sharp intake of breath from Mona.

“Yeah, I thought you’d say something like that,” she says.

Her tone is sad, and I’m not prepared for it. The anger fades in the wake of that sound. Mentioning Charlie feels like a cheap shot, but she’s not the only one who suffered from that.

She sits back in the chair and takes another drink.

She says, “I actually didn’t expect you to agree to see me. So thank you. I just wanted to say the one thing I never did. I’m sorry.”

Those two words slam into me like a brick to the head. The last two fucking words I expected to ever come out of her mouth. Holy fucking shit. She’s grown, and rather than make my anger toward her feel validated, it makes me want her more.

I also sit back as the words slowly process through the shock of hearing them. I’ll sleep better knowing I didn’t do Charlie’s little sister wrong by leaving her, knowing that she learned from the consequences of her actions.

“I actually really appreciate that,” I tell her. “That’s the realest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

Her gaze drifts past me, and she says, “I’ve damn near lost everyone one way or another. It’s small, but I can at least admit when I fuck up.”

Those honey brown eyes find me again, and she says, “I hope you find the peace you deserve. Maybe I’ll see you around again someday. Goodbye, Izzy.”

She stands and she walks away. She never gives Mona a second glance, and she doesn’t hesitate. Fucking hell.

It occurs to me that she has learned more than a little. Walking away was always my gig. She’s put me on the other side of the coin, and the power in her move is resounding. She didn’t use that move as an escape like I used to. She just made her point and then her exit. It seems she has finally become the woman she used to pretend she was.

Noah returns with Mona’s and Lucas’s food. He sets the plates in front of them, but his eyes are on me. There’s an understanding there that I don’t expect.

“Another beer?” he asks knowingly.

I take a steadying breath.

“Yeah. Please.”

Chapter 32 Shots Fired

Frederick

I watch the mansions of the Garden District pass me by as I walk the few blocks from where I parked the Indian. My heart is hammering against my chest. It’s so loud, I wonder if they’ll hear me coming from here.

Walking helps soothe the jitters from my limbs. My stomach is in painful knots, and my throat is tight. I draw as deep breaths as I can, and remind myself – again – that this will never work if I can’t keep my shit together.

It’s late, close to ten, but Abuela has agreed to meet for an update on the Jorge deal, and general remarks on security’s operations.

Even this late, the air is muggy as hell. There’s a layer of sweat on my skin that makes my clothes stick to me. It’s aggravating, but it’s a distraction from the anxiety. At least I had the foresight to wear contacts and not my glasses. I can’t take the risk of being blinded by losing them. By the time I reach the right lot, I feel gross.

“Hey, boss, where’s the bike?” says the guard at the shack.

“In the shop,” I growl without stopping.

I am his boss, but I fucking hate being called that. It actually makes me want to punch that guy in the mouth, but that’s not why I’m here. I climb the few stairs up to the door and push it open.

The guard inside nods at me, and says, “She’s in her office.”

By now, all the guards know they don’t take my guns, so he doesn’t try to stop me. Worst decision Abuela ever made.

I’m scanning the hallways like I’m in enemy territory. I don’t see another soul, but since I have access to security details, I know there are five guards inside plus the one at the shack. There are four doors on the bottom floor, a guard on each one, and a floater.

The hallway that leads to the office has never seemed so long. I stop outside the door and look both ways again. Still no guard. It’s so quiet all I can hear is my pulse. I take a long breath and draw.

I push the door open and step inside. Abuela looks up. She starts to smile in that predatory way of hers, but then she sees the gun in my hand, and her eyes go wide. She reaches for her own gun that’s sitting on the desk beside her hand, but she’s already at a disadvantage. And I’m really fucking fast.

I put the first bullet between her eyes. It exits the back of her skull with a spray of her brains. There’s no way she’ll survive a shot from my Desert Eagle to the dome, but I put another one in her to be sure.

For a moment, I can’t do anything but stare. I wait for regret, or remorse. I don’t feel anything.

“You really should’ve known better than to gamble on me,” I tell the corpse.

I raise my gun and turn back out the

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