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“Nico wants me to help him sort it out,” I explain.
“Oh. All right then. I sensed some tension when I arrived. You seemed angry.”
“Yeah, because he pisses me off,” I mutter. “He and I have a rocky relationship.”
Sabrina’s expression turns mischievous. “Let me guess, exes?”
I make a face. “No.”
“Why not?” she laughs. “He’s extremely good-looking.”
“Sure. But he’s an asshole.”
“Asshole or not, a handsome man is a handsome man,” she says, waggling her eyebrows.
I’m glad she’s joking again. It means we’re past her suspicious. I finally relax, settling into the sofa.
“Enough about Nico. Can we talk about something else?” I ask.
“Okay.”
She starts telling me about her day and I listen attentively, glad I at least have her in my life for balance. Sabrina’s like my bright light in a sea of uncertainty. She’s the only thing I’ve got that isn’t tainted by my past. Two hours later, after we’ve ordered some Thai food for dinner and she’s about to leave, she suddenly looks at me.
“That man…Nicolas Ramirez?” she says carefully. “I don’t know why, but something about him makes me uneasy. Be careful, okay? He seems dangerous.”
I smile and offer her a small nod.
You have no idea, Sabrina.
CHAPTER 8
NICO
Age Fourteen
Iwas ready for death.
That’s a morbid thing for a fourteen-year-old kid to think. But I mean it wholeheartedly. There’s only so much the world can throw at you before you want to give up. These days felt empty, dark. No matter how much I tried to fight, nothing ever worked out. There was no light in my world.
It’s hopeless.
I ran away from the shelter a year ago, after I was almost assaulted by one of the directors. Since then, I’ve been living on the streets. It was hard at the start. But then I met Juan. He’s the one that helped me. Although I’m not sure if help is the right word, considering he introduced me to a life of crime.
It’s a life I should have never been exposed to. Sometimes I find it hard to believe that until a couple of years ago, I was a normal kid. I had parents, I went to school, hell I even had friends, albeit dumb ones that I barely liked. I was normal. And now I’m here, crouching down and hiding from a group of men as they search for me, intent on killing me.
I never should have done that job for Powell. It was a bad idea. Juan said so too. But he promised me enough money for three days of food. It was naïve of me to believe him. Men like Powell have no honor. I still couldn’t believe it when he snatched the files from my hands and then kicked me out. I tried to fight, and one of his goons punched me in the face. He was bigger and stronger than me.
Fighting back was hopeless. I hate that word: hopeless. It’s a substitute for the word weak. I don’t want to be weak anymore. But I also can’t keep living like this. I should have never been in this position.
My mother used to tell me that I was made for greater things. I’m not going to find those things while hiding in a ditch or an abandoned parking lot.
The sound of noises draws me out of my thoughts. Surprisingly, I don’t shake as I hear a man call for people to search the area. I’m smart enough to know when the jig is up. I can accept that I messed up. It’s very freeing, that acceptance. Death is freeing, too.
A few minutes later, I’m dragged out of my hiding spot. They take me to him, the Don, and force me to get on my knees. The Don starts to speak to me, questioning my motives. Although I’m not sure why he’s asking me, considering he already knows everything.
They try to get me to answer him, to stop looking him in the eye. But I remain steadfast. I don’t cower. I don’t say a word.
My father always said I was tactically stubborn. Bullheaded when it suits me. No one makes me do anything I don’t want to. Not even the scary Don.
