“Come join us,” Julio says, gesturing to the empty chairs at the table. There are three of them, one each for Sloane and me, and then an extra one. “I hear you’ve had quite an eventful morning, Ms. Hawthorne?” Julio asks. He bridges his hands in front of him, spearing Sloane through with an arctic gaze.

“You could say that,” Sloane answers. She looks like something out of a fucking horror show. There’s blood all over her hands and up her arms, as well as speckled all over her face. It’s all down her shirt and in her hair, too. The clipped, dry response she shoots at Julio doesn’t hide the fact that she’s not impressed by his glib remark. “We’ll be leaving soon. To take the girl to hospital.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, Ms. Hawthorne. Sophia’s a strong girl. She’ll be just fine.”

I was right. I knew he would say that, of course, but I’d perhaps hoped… I catch the look of fury on Cade’s face, and the sight of him cuts off all thought. He’s so angry that a tideline of crimson is slowly rising up his neck.

“The girl’s going to the hospital, Julio.”

The bloated Mexican tilts his head toward Cade, smiling ever so slightly. “You’re just a mouthpiece, Signor Preston. Please remember that you’re a guest in my home, huh?”

“I may be a guest, but Rebel’s on his way. What do you think he’s going to say when he gets here and his girl’s dead?”

So Rebel’s not here yet. But on his way… This could be a good thing. Sloane sees the opportunity, too, and grasps it.

“If we leave now, we can get her to a private practice in San Bernardino. I know them there. They’ll keep her off the books if I ask them to.”

Julio plants his hands face down on the table, considering them for a moment. When he looks up, there’s a cold malice in his eyes that makes me think he doesn’t give a shit what Rebel is gonna do to him when he arrives. But I’m mistaken—this look isn’t about Rebel. This look is all for me. “You lied to me, ese. I had a very enlightening conversation this morning with an acquaintance of yours.” Julio nods to Teo, who does as his master bids him and brings a single sheet of paper to the table. He puts it down in front of Julio.

“And he told me some very interesting things about you. See, I’ve thought you were here to spy for Charlie this whole time. I didn’t expect you to have come here to steal what belongs to me.”

Julio slides the paper across the table, and this time I know there’s no point in bullshitting. Rick, who I left in Anaheim fishing for information on the DEA bitch investigating Charlie, is tied to a chair, while the fuzzy silhouette of a man partially out of shot lays into him with a tire iron. I push the photo back to Julio, raising my eyebrows.

Shit. Shit, fuck, shit. I don’t really care all that much about Rick taking a beating, I have to say, but this means everything is over. The whole ploy goes up in smoke. “You got me.” I hold up my hands. “I wanted to take one of your girls. She’s currently dying in your kitchen right now, so you might as well let me have her. I’ll take the whole mess right off your hands.”

“You’re not taking shit, ese.” Julio nods to Teo; the guy comes and stands behind me, gun held loosely in his hand. In a moment, I imagine Julio’s going to tell him to blow the back of my brain out. I have to admit having Teo lurk behind me with a gun is a whole lot less appealing than Sloane doing the same thing. “Sophia isn’t my mess. Rebel bought her ass off me years ago and she’s been sticking her nose in here, riling up my girls ever since. If she dies, it’ll be because she’s a nosy bitch who gets caught up in things that don’t concern her. You, on the other hand, are going to wait here with your fine little piece of pussy until Charlie arrives. Then I’m gonna let him take care of you. He seems highly motivated toward that end. He was especially pissed off when I sent him a shot of your little friend here.”

He gestures to the image of Rick. Fucking perfect. Charlie’s probably had plenty of time to put two and two together, but seeing physical evidence that Rick’s living and breathing after he betrayed Charlie to the Wreckers…the guy’s gonna be fucking raging.

Michael’s sat through all of this with the same nonchalant acceptance he always exudes when watching something terrible play out. I’m not fooled by it, though. He’s a viper, not a rattlesnake. With him, you don’t get a warning. He stands up and casually takes a throwing knife from the waistband of his pants. Julio gapes up at him, face drawn into an angry scowl.

“Sit down, hijo. This doesn’t concern you.”

Michael doesn’t accept his advice. He flips the knife over and drives it down through Julio’s hand with lightning speed, pinning him to the table.

“Motherfucker! Teo, kill this motherfucker!” Julio’s bellow is loud enough to alert the whole fucking house. Perhaps Teo is too stunned by the blatantly suicidal action Michael’s just taken, but his pause gives me enough time to spin, grab hold of Teo’s M16, and punch the guy square in the throat. He crumples to the ground like a ragdoll. He can’t breathe. He won’t be able to breathe again, given the force I put behind that punch. Sloane screams, jumping to her feet, and now it seems like everyone is screaming.

Julio’s making enough noise to wake the dead. We’re about to have fifteen angry guards storm this room. I shoot Michael a displeased glance. “Real smooth, man.”