Page 9 of Tainted Blood
In two strides, I have his phone in my hand. In response, RJ catapults off the couch, his fists clenching by his side. He wants to take a swing at me. I can see it in his eyes. But we both know he won’t.
“Give me my fucking phone,” he bites out between clenched teeth.
This kind of volatile reaction isn’t like him. He’s the still waters to my raging tempest. But those lines darting across his forehead are new. This distraction he’s had since Grayson’s visit is out of character.
I don’t like it. And if he’s not going to give me an answer as to why, then I’ll find it myself.
Illuminating the screen, I stare down at the contact name, and the nine unanswered calls. “Rachel Marlow?” I spit the name out, my anger cranking up about ten notches. “What the hell, RJ? My whole operation just went up in flames, and you’re worried about getting your dick sucked?”
“It’s not like that.”
“No? Then explain it to me?”
“Why don’t you worry about finding your wife?” he bites back, snatching the phone out of my hand.
It’s the wrong thing to say.
Red mist clouds my eyes and uncertainty clouds my judgement as I shove him up against the wall. The dam breaks, and RJ pushes back, causing the lid to blow off what little restraint I have left. Drawing my fist back, I aim for his nose.
“I’d go for the throat myself.”
I freeze mid-swing, releasing my grip on RJ’s neck. Turning, I find my father leaning casually against the doorframe to my office, his arms crossed, wearing a look of amused boredom.
“Collapses the larynx,” he adds. “Then you get the pleasure of watching them suffocate.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand.
“You said you’d explain later.” He shrugs. “It’s later.”
Forgetting about RJ, I shove another hand through my hair. I’m irritated yet unsurprised. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“And you know I’m not accustomed to waiting.”
And I’m not accustomed to answering to anyone. Dios mio, I need time to plan. To find Thalia and somehow get her back under my roof.
“You left máma alone at a party?” I accuse, dealing my father a low blow. When he cocks a dark eyebrow, I add, “Do I have to remind you what happened last time you did that?”
A chilling smile spreads across his face. “No, that won’t be necessary... I never make the same mistake twice.”
He pushes away from the doorframe to reveal my mother standing right behind him. She’s staring at me just as intently, maybe even more so. But what I notice most is the determined lift of her chin, as if she’s stepping into old, but familiar skin.
“Mijo,” she says, baiting me with a name she hasn’t called me since I left Mexico. “Let us help you.”
I glare at my father. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing in bringing her here.
I shake my head. “Not this time—”
The crack from a single gunshot swallows the rest of my protest. It’s a stab of adrenaline straight to the chest. When the second blast sounds, we all have our guns out.
“Grayson.” RJ hurls his large frame off the wall, our fight already forgotten, but there’s another name in my head as I lead the charge.
Thalia.
My father falls into line as we cross into the lobby. When I turn to stop him from coming any further, it’s not a power play, it’s a plea. “Don’t tempt fate.” I draw his volatile stare to my mother. “Lightning can strike twice.”
His scowl hardens, but he steps back. The man may be a killer, but the mind is an unforgiving sadist. All my father’s demons are carved into three jagged words:
La Boda Roja.
