Page 132 of Explosive Prejudice

“Hey!” he shouted as I hit him again, harder this time.

“You think I’m about to let you toss your life in the fucking garbage?” I pushed him hard enough that we both crashed down into the sand and began wrestling until we ended up with me on top.

“Get off of me!” Camilo growled, trying to push me off him, but I used every bit of strength I had to fight him back.

“No.” I pinned him harder to the sand, my hands on his rising chest. “Let’s say you do manage to kill Dion and get out of it alive, which is unlikely, considering he’s a fucking mobster surrounded by a shitload of armed guards, do you think I’m gonna let you go to prison?”

“Get. Off,” he hissed through gritted teeth, but I stood my ground even stronger.

“Answer my question,” I shouted, spittle hitting his face. “Are you willing to throw your life away? To leave me behind?”

“Fuck no! But what am I supposed to do?” he shouted back, dropping his hands around me and moving them to cover his face. “What the fuck am I supposed to do? He killed him. He fucking killed him—shit.” His voice broke, turning his words into a cry of pain.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned down and hugged him close. “I’m not saying Dion shouldn’t pay for what he did. He should. The son of a bitch needs to get what he deserves, but not on your account. You promised never to leave me, so keep that promise.”

“So what do I do?”

I placed my hands on his and brought them down so he could face me.

“You let me fix things for you.”

His body tensed, and he narrowed his bloodshot eyes at me. “What does that mean?”

“It means that I’m going to be the devil that I am and make sure he pays for what he did.” God be my witness, did I know how to be one. A devil. Camilo often thought he was the monster between us, but he couldn’t be more wrong. While his soul was pure and gentle, mine was dark and vengeful.

My father had taught me many things, and one of them was how to never get my own hands dirty. It was why, throughout all my years in high school, I let others do the dirty work and carry out my depravity for me. Only this time, my wrath wouldn’t be unleashed for nothing, but on devils who deserved it.

“I already have a plan,” I said, caressing his beautiful face. “But it can wait a while longer.” There would always be time for vengeance. I knew that better than anyone. What I didn’t know was solace, and it was about damn time I learned that, too.

“Tell me about him,” I said, then leaned in to kiss Camilo’s cheek. “Tell me about Iván.”

For the first time since he got that call, his eyes softened as he looked at me with—

“Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely. “Thank you for being here.”

Gratitude. That was the look in his eyes, and it gave me the courage I needed to rescue him.

No.

To rescue us.

Shay-Lee

After spending the rest of the day at the beach with Camilo, talking about Iván, we went to get some food in our system. We bought dinner at a taco food truck, then strolled to the pier, where we sat, eating together and watching the sunset. It gave us a bit of a break after twenty-four hours of hell, but the calmness of this moment ended once I told Camilo my plan.

“You better be joking.” Rolling his taco wrap into a ball, he tossed it into the garbage bin and turned to me. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“It’s a good plan, Camilo.”

He huffed as he took the cigarette he had tucked behind his ear and put it between his lips. He was about to light it when he pulled it out and pointed at me. “Ain’t no fucking way I’m going to allow it.”

Jumping from the rail I sat on, I stood in front of him. “Why not? It’s a good fucking plan.”

“It’s a suicide mission,” he hissed, and I laughed.

“Says the one who was talking about shooting Dion between the eyes just a few hours ago.”

He tilted his head at me. “You made me drop that idea, didn’t you?”

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