Page 30 of Trig

I glance down at the guy who looks mutilated. I’m not judging. I’m worried. I’m worried she’ll go all overkill again and ignore her surroundings, putting herself or me in trouble, or that she’ll panic and freeze. She’s not a killer. I don’t expect perfection. I just need her head in the game because it’ll be too late to baby her once we get inside.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do this,” I say.

“Yes, I do. I’m good.”

I look at her with concern.

“I said, I’m good,” she repeats.

I nod to her, kiss the top of both her hands, and then hand her the knife back.

“We have to keep moving,” Gabriel shouts as quietly as he can.

We all run up the front steps of the house as quickly as we can, guns drawn. My leg feels the pressure of each step as I try to keep up with them. Gabriel slowly swings open the entry door once we hit the porch. It’s dead quiet as we file inside. Two men are down the hallway, distracted while talking to each other about a recent football game. I put my gun away, sneak up from behind them, and snap one’s neck while Gabriel kills the other. All three of us continue to creep down the hallway, stopping short while pointing our guns at a door that starts to creak open next to us. Inside the doorway stands a little boy. We all freeze as we take him in.

“You have got to be shitting me,” I say in shock.

I look at his features, from his eyes to the lines on his mouth to the way he sucks his cheek in. It’s freaking me out. Nine looks at him, then back to me, and then back to him.

“Ummmmm,” is all she manages to get out.

“Bro. Is this…Is he…Would this be—” Gabriel struggles to put a sentence together.

Nine drops her gun to her side. “He looks like a mini carbon copy of you, Trig.”

We’re all standing there in a half-circle of mental fuckery, not sure where to go from here. This wasn’t part of the plan. I’m in disbelief. There is no way this kid is mine. Nope. I move my mouth around, searching for the right words but nothing comes out. Fuck! I can’t deny the boy looks just like me. He looks to be maybe a few years older than Mya. It dawns on me that many moons ago when Carmen was breaking me, Natasha forced herself on me. The thought of Natasha having my baby makes me sick. I can’t stay composed. I run my hands down my face and then I place them both on my knees. I begin to pace a little, limp and all. I’m talking to myself, trying to walk myself through what the fuck is happening.

“Ain’t no way,” I keep repeating.

Gabriel keeps giving me the ‘hurry up and process this’ look because we have shit to do. The kid just keeps staring at me quietly. Nine looks up from the kid to me.

“You guys go. Time is ticking. I’ll stay with the boy,” Nine says.

I look at her through my brows, looking for any sense of understanding.

“He might not be—” I try to say, but she cuts me off.

“I said, I got this. Now go!”

Nine turns without another word, takes the boy back into the same room, and closes the door. Gabriel and I look at each other for a brief second, shake our heads, and then we both attempt to refocus on the mission. Right then, six men stride down the hallway and halt in place when they spot us. They pull their weapons, begin to open fire, and in return, we fire back. Bullets are flying as Gabriel and I hide behind two columns for safety. We then take turns discharging bullets until we take out every last one of them. Once they’re all down, we make a run for it to Carmen’s room.

On the way here, Gabriel told us Carmen bought this house as soon as he found out we were living in Fiji. No one knows why, but he apparently has an obsession with us. Gabriel said when he’s not doing business, he’s almost always in the room that he calls his sanctuary. It’s the same room that he delivered Carmen’s female toys to. He’s sure that’s where he’ll be at this time of night. When we finally reach the room, Gabriel points at the door. We fling it open, guns drawn, and step inside not sure what to expect. Carmen’s just casually sitting on his bed, alone, gun on his thigh, smoking a cigar like it’s Saturday at the pool. His face is full of scars and permanently mutilated.

“Nice of you boys to return home. Daddy has missed you two.”

He’s always been a psycho piece of shit who doesn’t make any kind of normal sense, but this response to two men entering his bedroom with guns drawn is too calm. Even from him. We keep our guns pointed at him. We don’t move an inch because he’s strategic. Motherfucker probably has a remote-controlled bomb, booby-trap, or deadly laser ready to take us out.

“It’s over, Carmen. The games. The bullshit. You’re done,” I say as I cautiously look around.

He laughs and laughs, and then laughs some more. He picks up his gun and then waves it in the air as he speaks.

“You think I’m just going to let you come into my house, kill my men, kill me, and then what, leave?” He pauses. “That’s funny.”

“You think we need your permission? That’s funny,” Gabriel replies.

“I expected more of you, Gabriel. So much wasted potential, but with your shortcomings in Florida, I’m not surprised.” He takes a long whiff of his gun, licks the barrel, and then points it at Gabriel. “Toss your cocks around, boys. Go ahead. Just know the ego is a dangerous thing when you don’t know how to rope it in.” He then points his gun at me. “Speaking of uncontrolled egos, right about now, Natasha is probably making her way down to her son’s room. Oh, wait! Correction. I don’t want to leave you out. My apologies. He’s your son, too.” He smiles and then continues. “When Natasha sees that there’s a fox in her den, that fox being Nine, things are not going to go well. You’ve already seen what she’s capable of, and if I were you, I’d be more than a little nervous.”

“Beating someone who’s tied up isn’t really a strength or a challenge. It’s more of a bitch move, so you can fuck all the way off with that noise,” I respond.

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