Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“I got you,” I say, helping him. “Oh, god, Brenden. They were going to kill you.”
“Probably,” he says, his face twisted in agony. “How did you find me?”
“Ricky told us you were back here.” I try to wipe some of the dirt from his face, but I only manage to smear the bloody mud around. “We’ll get you help. The hospital—”
“No,” Brenden says sharply. “No hospital.”
I look at Alexan, panicking. “We have to do something.”
“We’ll go back to our place,” Alexan says. He goes to Brenden’s other side and takes some of his weight. “We need to hurry, though. Someone heard those gunshots.”
“Fuck,” Brenden whispers as we move. He’s clearly in a lot of pain. “You killed them. They were Los Sombras.”
“And now they’re all dead,” Alexan says. “They can’t talk, and you shouldn’t either.”
We get him out of the alley and into the back of the car. I sit with him as Alexan drives fast away from The Hen. I briefly wonder if I should text Ricky and let him know that Brenden’s alive, but fuck it. He didn’t do shit to help my brother.
Alexan stays completely calm as he navigates back to the Inner Harbor.
Once we’re at the house, I help Brenden inside as gently as I can. I notice the front door isn’t locked, but I’m too busy worrying about my brother to think about it.
We head into the foyer, and I almost don’t notice the basket lying at the foot of the steps until I’m right on top of it.
“The fuck is that?” Brenden asks.
We stagger backward. The smell is terrible, like something rotten. Alexan pushes forward, putting himself between me and whatever the thing is. He kneels down and lifts off a cloth covering the top.
A human head is inside, and I know that face.
“Oh my god,” I say, gripping Brenden tightly. “Oh my god, oh my god.”
Jeremy Fong’s lifeless eyes stare at nothing as flies buzz around his bloody mouth.
Chapter 33
Alexan
I open the door to my safehouse and make sure it’s clear before letting Brenden come up. “It’s not much,” I tell him, gesturing at the sparsely furnished one-bedroom apartment, “but it’s close, and it’s safe.”
“It’s more than enough.” He hobbles inside, looking like absolute shit, but still alive. The doctor said he’d be fine given enough time to heal.
But he’s hunched in on himself, and I can tell the stress of what’s happening is weighing as much as the injuries.
I give him a quick tour. He ends up sitting down heavily on the couch, legs stretched out with a sigh.
I place a loaded gun on the coffee table. “You know why you’re staying here, right?”
He stares at me, his face hard. “I’m not safe right now.”
“Los Sombras is no fucking joke.” I leave the gun and step back. “I have enough problems without them trying to kick down my door.”
“I get it, don’t worry. I saw that fucking head. I’ll be fine here. You don’t even need to do this much for me.”
“We both know this is for Riley.”
He nods slowly. “I figured.”
“I’ll be back in a few hours with groceries. If you have anything specific you need, tell me then. Don’t call or text. Better yet, give me your phone.”
“Seriously?”
“Los Sombras is probably monitoring you.” I hold out my hand. “I’ll get you a burner.”
Reluctantly, he tosses it over. I power it off and shove it into my pocket for disposal with a hammer when I get back home.
“Let me ask you something,” Brenden says, adjusting himself with a grunt. He keeps one hand pressed to his ribs. “You’ve been married to my sister for a little while now. Why are you willing to kill cartel men for her?”
“You know what they say about gift horses.”
“I’m being serious right now. I get it, you’re hiding me because of Riley, but why are you going so far for her?”
“Because she’s my family now. Which means you are too.”
He grunts and shakes his head. “Bullshit. You were arranged to marry her. You don’t actually owe me a damn thing, and you have no real reason to put yourself on the line for her family. Why do you care?”
I push back against the anger that starts to bloom. This isn’t Brenden being ungrateful. I have to remember that this is a protective, worried older brother thinking about the safety of his little sister.
“I care because she’s my wife.”
He stares at me. “Do you really not understand what I’m trying to ask you here?” He leans closer and grimaces at the movement. “I want to know if you love my sister. I saw the way you looked at her. You immediately stepped in to protect her when we found that severed fucking head on your stairs. Is this just about your marriage? Or is it about more?”