Echo (Black Lotus #2)(33)

Doors open, I walk.

Foyer, living room, hallway.

Door.

Head and heart pound. Ears ring. Blood boils.

One hand on gun, the other on door.

Open . . . Aim . . . BANG.

I can still smell the gunpowder, see the look of fear in Bennett’s eyes, hear him gurgling and choking on his own blood. I killed a man—an innocent man—point-blank. His last words, a plea for me to not do it, still haunt me. But I did it anyway because I thought him to be the man Nina manipulated to me. I believed he killed my baby, and for that, he would die.

But it was a lie.

I shake the visions from my head and walk over to pour myself another glass of Scotch. It’s my pathetic attempt to quiet the demons in me.

The conundrum I battle with is the idea that Nina is the vile one, and that somehow I’m good. But I’m not. I’m a killer. She didn’t pull that trigger—I did. I don’t want to bathe in the same evil as she, but I do.

It was her that screwed with my head, twisting truth with lies, creating me into this monster. But a monster I am, just as she, and I allowed. Whether I intended to or not—I still allowed it.

But it isn’t just what I did, it’s what she did—or didn’t do. Leaving me to die. Not doing anything to help me. Yet tonight, she vowed she loves me and wants to do everything to save me from the path she put me on. How could she say that when she left me with two bullets in my chest, bleeding out on the floor of my loft—bullets fired by her brother?

God, her brother. The brother she was f*cking.

All he had to say was Go and she went, never coming back for me. I’ve been lied to and manipulated by many, but her betrayal has debilitated me, ripped my heart out, riven to obliteration. Raping the soul entirely. Who knew her hands could hold so much turpitude?

Everything combined is impossible to digest. The contradictions she throws out do nothing but spur confusion and animosity. My mind craves clarity on the situation, but I doubt I’ll ever get that because I doubt her sanity. Yet, the mere mention of her leaving tomorrow evokes a thrum in my chest, and that shit bedevils me the most.





I’VE BEEN TRYING my best to play the part, cooperate with the authorities, and feign my innocence, but shit is looking bad. Cal’s been sitting in jail, and it’s only a matter of time before they come after me. I can trust that Cal is keeping a tight lip, otherwise, I would’ve already been arrested. But he knows firsthand what can happen if his loyalty is compromised.

Needless to say, with everything I stand to lose, if they uncovered my involvement in the gun trafficking and my other crimes, they’d fry me. I’m a dead man walking at this point, but I’m not a man who’s going to sit back and watch his dynasty collapse. Pawns are beginning to fall, so I need to move fast.

The private charter is set to leave at 3:00am; everyone has been paid off and given the run-down. They know I own their tongues. My new identity is packed in my briefcase, bags are ready to go, and the car should be here shortly.

With a stomach filled with boulders of anxiety, I walk through the dark house to my bedroom where my unknowing wife sleeps. Eeriness looms as I walk into the room. She lies there, peaceful, completely unaware of the world she walks around in daily. Unaware about who I really am. What I really do. But if I’m going to do this, I need my family. There’s no other option because they mean everything to me. So with that, I risk it all—because they’re worth it—when I sit on the edge of the bed and gently nudge her awake.

She stirs, and when she begins to open her eyes, I take her face in my hands and kiss her. There’s no preparing for this life, the one I’ve chosen to live for nearly thirty years. But never in those thirty years have I been under surveillance like I am now.

“What’s wrong, honey?” she questions, pulling away from this uncharacteristic affection.

Remaining as calm, clear, and concise as possible so that she doesn’t freak out on me, I say, “I need you to sit up and listen to me very carefully.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“Don’t be scared. Everything is going to be okay, but I need you to listen closely because I don’t have much time.”

She sits up and gives me a nod with fear-glazed eyes.

I take her hands in mine. “I’m leaving the country,” I start when she interrupts me.

“What?”

When I place my fingers over her mouth, I stress, “I need you to not ask questions because I won’t be able to answer them. I’m begging you to trust me and know that I will do everything to keep our family together. I love you, but there’s a part of this business that isn’t legal. I’ve done some things, and now I run the risk of losing my life.” My words are partial truths, but mostly lies because there’s no point in laying it all out there. It would only put her in danger.

Her eyes widen and her face creases in confusion as she slowly shakes her head.

“This is what I need from you.”

“I don’t . . . I-I . . . ”

“Take a deep breath, hun,” I gently instruct. “You trust me?”

Her nod comes instantly, soothing some of my worry.

“Good. I need you to trust me. Never doubt me or my love, understand?”

“Of course.”

“If anyone asks about me, you tell them you don’t know where I am. You haven’t heard from me or seen me since we got into an argument over my commitment to this marriage. That if you had to guess, I’m simply hiding out in a hotel to avoid coming home.”