J Speaks (L & J 2) (7 page)

******

A little over a week later, José strolled into Checks. I expected to see other cooks or maybe family members follow behind him, but he was alone. I was at my table in the corner so he couldn’t see me. I watched him go to the bar and say something to the bartender. He handed over a slip of paper and sauntered out. The door had barely shut behind him before I was up on my feet and grabbing the slip of paper out of the bartender’s hand. It had a phone number written on it. Just a number. Nothing else. This had to be Ernesto.

Despite what Dig and I were planning, we both had to go about business as usual. I collected at Eight Oh Eight, watched over Checks, and made deliveries to Kansas City and St. Louis. I had a brick of heroin I’d received ton
ight, that I’d be taking to Kansas City tomorrow night. I grabbed a prepay phone from my stash in the back, and called the number Dig gave me for his own burner.

“Tomorrow. Midnight at Bill’s.”

“I’ll be there, brother.”

I had to make my delivery before I
could meet Dig. One brick meant it was a sample. I was dropping it off to Cane at the barn. I hated that fucker like a bad rash. I handed over the brick, exchanged minimal words, and was walking out the door when Cane opened the asshole he calls a mouth.

“Get rid of the bitch from the back of your bike?”

I stopped halfway out the door. I felt my blood boil hearing him refer to Elle as a bitch. Hearing any mention of her pass over Cane’s lips made me want to kill him immediately. I wanted to grab the 9mm in my cut and blast his head off. I wanted to watch his blood flow down the drain in the barn. I wanted Skinny to Dexter his ass up. But I couldn’t. I took a breath, turned around, and in the steadiest voice I could manage told him, “Nah, she got too clingy and I had to let her go. You know how the cut whores can be.”

“No doubt.” No doubt my ass. All Cane knew were the bitches that wanted him for his cut. He had no idea what a woman like Elle was all about. I kept walking out the door, wiggling my fingers to stop from grabbing my shoulder. I got on my bike and headed out to Bill’s
, Gramps’ talons digging deep into my shoulder the entire ride.

******

“It’s all set. We’ll meet up with Ernesto a week from tomorrow. I’ll come through your place the day before. You still got that spare room?”

Dig
had just hung up with Ernesto. They barely exchanged twenty words, but managed to set up a meeting.

“Yeah, no problem. Where are we meeting?”

Dig passed me a piece of paper with the words AQUARIO scribbled in it. “Claims his family runs the place. Told us to meet him in back once the suns goes down, but before the place fills up. Said not to come on the bikes.” I nodded to Dig. That was a club in brown town. One of the few places MM didn’t fuck with.

“We’ll take the Suburban. You can stash your bike in my garage,” I told Dig.

“Brother, you know this is it. Once this happens, there’s no going back.”

I knew what he was telling me, and I knew I was all in. We parted ways and I headed home. Any hesitancy
I had about this plan shattered two nights ago when I’d driven past Elle’s place. She was sitting at her kitchen table that was pushed up against a window facing the street. The inside of her place was dark, only the street light illuminating her form hunched over in a chair. One hand was wrapped around a glass that I assumed had wine in it, and the other hand was covering her eyes. I watched her for a minute, unsure of what she was doing. It wasn’t until I saw her body shake that I realized she was crying at her kitchen table.

I was gutted. I
t’d been six weeks since the shooting. I imagine she was still in pain, but on her way to healing. The doctor had said she was lucky that her injuries weren’t more extensive. The damage to her stomach had been minor, and they’d got to it before anything leaked into her abdominal cavity, causing complications that would’ve put her out of commission for months rather than weeks. I knew she’d been put on antibiotics for any possible infection. The graze to her spleen would heal on its own.

As her body shook, the hand holding the glass went to her side. She held it there and I thought she was about to pull herself together. Instead, the opposite happen
ed. She bent forward in her chair, cradling her face in both hands, and she let go. Her body quaked as she sobbed. I knew it was a bad idea, but I found myself getting off the bike. It wasn’t her magnetic pull that drew me to her front door. It was guilt, remorse, desperation, and despair. In a fog, I found myself using my key, walking into her living room, and standing in the entryway of her kitchen. She didn’t even notice me.

“Elle?”

She looked up from her hands. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. “J? How did—what are you doing here?”

I knelt
on the floor in front of her. Taking her hands in mine, I told her, “I have a plan. I need to tell you my plan so I can fix this.”

Her eyes got wide. “Plan? You have a plan?” She
shot up from the chair and looked down at my kneeling form. She was shaking, but I didn’t think it was sadness anymore. It was anger. “Get out.”

I stood up. She had to hear me out.
I reached out to grab her hand, but she pulled it away and held it against her side. I watched her close her eyes and take deep breaths. Shit, I was butchering this. When she opened her eyes, she was calm—I thought.

In a low voice
, she told me again, “Get out of my apartment.” When I didn’t leave, she shoved me in the chest, but I barely moved. I watched her calm demeanor fade, and rage take its place. “Get out!” she screamed, beating her fists against my torso. “Get the fuck out! Get out of my apartment you fucking bastard! Get out!” When I still didn’t budge, she gave up and pushed past me into her living room.

I knew I had to lay it on the line. “I
’m not going to say I’m sorry. Words like that can’t convey the level of remorse I have. I didn’t want you to find out, and in the end, you found out in the worst possible way.” I took a breath before continuing. “I fucking kill people, Elle. It’s what I do. It’s what I have to do. It’s kill or be killed. A year ago I was ready to die, but you shined your light on me. I can’t go back, baby. I can’t go back to the darkness. Please, Elle, don’t make me go back to the emptiness.”

She was pacing the living room, her hands shoved in her hair. Every piece of me hurt to see her in so much pain, physically and emotionally.
Knowing I was the cause of that pain felt like a million eagle talons digging into every inch of my skin. I didn’t want to be the monster anymore. I wanted to be the man she needed me to be. But I couldn’t be that man without her. I
had
to make her listen. I couldn’t walk out of there without her at least hearing me out. I was too close to the sun to give up and just walk away.

She stopped pacing and looked at me, almost as if she
’d just realized I was standing in her living room. I wasn’t an apparition. I was there, in front of her, dying a slow death inside. I begged her, “Please. I need you.”

T
hank
you for taking the time to read this book. As a new indie author, every person who reads my writing gives me a gift for which I am eternally grateful.
I hope you enjoyed J’s POV. I had a lot of fun writing him.

Review this book on Goodreads, your blog, or your favorite retailer if you feel like it. It would mean a lot to me.

Find me on
Facebook
or
Goodreads
.
I love chatting with readers. Really I just love chatting. It’s my mom’s fault. She gave me the gift of gab. Love you Mom!

I will also give updates on book two on both websites. This book emerged out of part two of Elle and J’s story, which is well on its way. I want to get it to you as soon as possible, but I also want it to be the best it can be for you as well. So, hang in there with me, please.

Many thanks-Emily

Acknowledgements

Elena
, how can I thank you? Your positive feedback keeps me writing each word. You’ve invested yourself in these characters just as much as me. It’s an honor to call you a friend. Oh, also, I’m gonna need a place to stay when I’m in town—with my dog and cat. And you’re crossing with me, right? We’ll stop in Sabinas for some “research” with abuelita? Get some pan maybe?

As always Valerie, you are so patient with my multitude of questions. I can’t imagine not having you to go to, even for the trivial shit, like “Do I need a comma here? What about here? And here? And here and here and here...”

Lisagh, you rock. Just—you rock. I encourage you all to check her out
here
. She is a paranormal romance writer, but more than that, she is a friend who has been there with me through
it all. Especially, the moments of extreme paranoia.

David, hmmmm... David. It felt a little weird going to one of my kids who isn’t a kid anymore for help with all the gun terminology. I’m glad you learned it in the military though. Thanks for the explosives. It was so much fun writing that shit. Say hello to Jasson for me.

To Richard Polt, the typewriter man, I give many thanks for not only providing me all the info I needed for Gram’s ring, but for dividing by pi. Who casually slips dividing by pi into an email? Richard Polt does, that’s who.

Melinda, last but so so far from least. You gave me some of the best feedback possible. You didn’t sugar coat the areas that needed work, and for that I thank you. I have thick skin. I hope you will continue on this journey with me, Elle, and J. Un mil gracias!