Rising to my full height, I jogged back down the hall to the break room, my bare feet silent on the hard floors.
A man was standing over Maria's body. He held my shirt up away from her body, and he was staring at her tits. Without thinking, I lifted my gun, aiming where his face will be in about two seconds. "You're a sick fuck. You know that?"
His head shot up, and I noticed his eyes were such a light blue they appeared almost white, right before I stuck a bullet between them. It was almost comical, the way his head flew back on his neck but his body remained as it was for a few seconds before it finally caught up with the program and he collapsed to the floor.
Gun still in my palm, I pressed my hands to the top of my head and paced. "Think," I told myself out loud. "Think, you fucker."
But there was nothing I could fucking do to save the deal. At least not at this moment. I'd been stupid. Too worried about getting my dick wet to see the signs. So fucking certain I had everything under control.
Grabbing my cell off the table, I picked up my shoes and prepared for the phone call I would have to make to my father to tell him what had happened. He wasn't going to be happy with me.
But first I had to get the hell out of here. Preferably without the escort that was going to start looking for me any fucking moment. I knew before I shot their comrade they would hear the shot, but he was fucking disrespecting the woman I loved. And I couldn't allow him to get away with that shit.
Closing the door, I locked it and shoved my gun into the back of my pants, then pushed a metal file cabinet in front of it. It wouldn't hold them off for long, but hopefully it would be enough time that I could get the hell out of here. Eyeing the opposite wall, I rushed to the other side of the room, busted the glass out of the old window that had been painted shut, then slammed my palms down on the jagged edges. Sticking my arms out the window, I shook them outside, leaving just enough blood laying around to throw them off.
With a whispered, "Forgive me, amore," I took my shirt from Maria's body, ripped it in half, and wrapped it around my bleeding hands. Then I squeezed into the corner between another, taller, file cabinet and the wall just as there was a horrible screeching noise and the door burst open.
I watched two agents run into the room. One of them ran straight for the busted window while the other scanned the room, weapon drawn, before checking the bodies and then holstering his weapon and joining his friend at the window. He called it in on his radio as they hustled out of the room.
Once they were gone, I went to the door, checking that no one else was coming before I snuck out and jogged down the hall in the opposite direction. There was another room down here with a back door. If I could make it without being seen, I could hide along the road until Enzo came and got me. He always stayed close by during these deals, for this exact reason.
Pulling out my cell phone, I texted him, then pushed open the door and ran out into the night.
I WAS BANNED from attending Maria's funeral in Mexico, and as such, the surprise on her brother's face was expected when I walked up to stand beside him in the living room where his sister's body was laid out. The house was crowded with family and friends, talking and laughing and praying, and the smell of tamales permeated the room, making my stomach growl. But I couldn't bring myself to eat. "I'm so sorry," I told him. "This never should have happened, Rene."
"No, estúpido. It shouldn't have," he responded in his heavy accent. Hands clasped in front of him, he watched his mother as she leaned over the casket, speaking rapid Spanish to her oldest daughter, now deceased because of me.
Something strange and foreign clenched in my chest, and I had to clear my throat before I could speak. "I donated fifty thousand dollars to your family's church," I told him. "I know it won't bring her back, but I wanted to do something."
"My mother will appreciate the sentiment."
"But not you?"
"I haven't been to church in years, my friend. If I tried to go now, I'm afraid I might burst into flame the moment I walk through the doors." He tossed me a grin, strained with grief.
I stared straight ahead in the direction of the coffin, not really seeing it, though. "If you want to shoot me, I'll understand. And no one will stop you. Or blame you. I came here alone."
I felt his eyes on me. "You've got some balls, puto, that's for sure," he said. Then he sighed. "The thought has crossed my mind. More than once. But then I thought to myself, 'Luca loved my sister. Truly loved her. He would never have let this happen if he could've stopped it.' And I put my gun away."
His mother moved away from the coffin, and my love's perfect face came into view, her dark hair neatly combed until it lay silky and straight on the white silk pillow, unlike how I was used to seeing it, in wild disarray. A wave of something dark and desperate erupted inside of me, and I swayed on my feet. "I do love her," I told him, my voice thick with tears I couldn't shed. "I wanted to marry her, Rene."
"She would've been so happy," he said after a moment.
I took some time to get myself under control before I could get the rest of this out. "This... this was my fault."
"No, Luca. You couldn't have known this would happen."