Page 106 of Mob Knight

Only because all of our vehicles have windows tinted as dark as they can get while still street legal. My cars technically aren’t, but no cops give me a ticket when they realize who I am. Just a friendly suggestion to lighten them. I’m not friends with any cops, so I ignore them. When we’ve been at my place and the few times we’ve stopped at hers, we’ve always made sure the blinds and curtains are closed for this reason.

“You’ll find out in fifteen minutes when he lands.”

Joder.

Fuck. Now I’m the one swearing in Spanish.

Joey pinches between her eyes, and her shoulders droop.

“He’ll know I spoke to you, but I better call and leave a message before he turns his phone back on.”

“He isn’t flying some piece of shit commercial plane. You know that. His phone is on.”

“Wishful thinking.”

“I’m calling and putting it on three-way. Take yours off speaker. This is a family matter. We don’t need Cormac panting in the background.”

I haven’t made a sound, but it didn’t take a genius to know Joey would ensure I can hear. She shakes her head at me. She won’t take it off speaker. We listen to it ring three times before a thick Spanish accent answers.

“Hola, osito.”

Little bear? Cute.

“Jocelyn también está al teléfono con su inútil novio.” Jocelyn's on the phone too along with her worthless boyfriend.

“Monita?” Little monkey?

“Sí, papá.” Yes, Dad.

The situation feels a little too fraught to call my father Daddy, especially when Cormac is right next to me.

“Mr. O’Rourke.”

“Hola, jefe.”

I don’t make my accent as accurate as I could. I hope they continue in Spanish, and Jesus believes I can’t understand all of it. He’ll speak more freely.

I get my wish as the conversation carries on in Spanish.

“Where are you, little monkey?”

“Safe.”

“I find out my daughter’s almost blown up today. Don’t play games.”

“I am safe, but I don’t want you storming over. It won’t go well for anyone.”

“Does that mean you’re well-guarded?”

“By a small army.”

All our homes are like mini compounds with armed guards patrolling. The neighbors don’t ask questions about why there’s a guard shack at every private gate in an already gated community. The walls are all brick, and high enough that people can’t see how many guards are on duty around the clock. I’m certain the neighbors would rather the top echelon syndicates didn’t swarm the communities, but who’s going to tell us no? Especially when we pay cash for each home. Millions in cash.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I went to my place with my guard. He’s Cormac’s cousin. No one outside his immediate family is my personal guard. It’s always his brother or cousins. It’d be his dad or uncles if any of the other guys weren’t available. I put the key in the lock and pushed it open an inch or two before his cousin stepped in front of me. I knew better, but I didn’t wait. The moment he opened it wider, there was a blast of heat and the loudest noise I’ve ever heard. It blew me backwards into my neighbor across the hall’sdoor, which the blast burst open. I must have hit the corner because I have stitches. A piece of wood from my door got stuck in my thigh, so I have stitches there, too.”

Each time I hear the events recited—and now in a second language—I feel rage unlike anything I’ve mustered before. I want to tear everyone connected to this to shreds. But I’ll do it slowly. I’ll draw out their agony over days—weeks if I can. I’m outwardly calm for Joey’s sake, but I’m ready to combust on the inside. The bomb that went off today will be nothing compared to when I explode. I’ll leave nothing but ash.

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