Page 38 of Vicious Savage

39

LUNA

“It’s time to move.”

A voice breaks the moment before I can answer his question. I lift my eyes and find Scarface standing there, his brows furrowed as he looks at me. Why is he here? Why is he talking to Attila? Doesn’t he work for my father?

“We need to go,” Attila says, holding his hand out to me. I rise, although I don’t understand why. I don’t know where we’re going or why. Isn’t his work here done?

“Where?” I ask, then follow up with a question about my brothers. Both men look at each other then turn back to me as TJ comes floating down the aisle, roaring that it’s time to go, go, go.

“Police are on the way,” he says, clapping his hands together. When he reaches me, he takes one look, frowns then steps toward me.

“Luna. We have to leave. You can’t stay here.”

“Why not? This is my home,” I remind him.

He tsks and shakes his head, putting his hands on his hips as he faces me. He looks like he’s getting ready to rip off a band aid.

“You can’t be here when the police arrive, Luna. There are things in this house you won’t be able to escape.”

I hold the blanket closer to my chest, my safety net, and turn toward the exit. Somehow, his words have made a difference, and I’m escorted out of the house and into a waiting black van where I sit opposite Scarface and Attila. TJ sits beside me, a meter of space between us.

We drive away from the house, down the winding road beside the clifftop, at a speed that makes my heart palpate irregularly. I may as well follow my father to his grave; death by accident. I don’t know what his death does to me. The realization that he is gone and I am now an orphan — devoid of either mother or father — flutters inside me like a bird trying to escape its cage.

“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice a hoarse whisper. I can’t look at Attila; any time I do, I see him pulling that trigger, and it grates at something deep inside me.

“Somewhere safe,” TJ says.

“Why?”

“What do you mean?” He is soft, patient with me. When these traits probably go against everything he knows.

“Why are you here? What brought you here? Where are you taking me and what do you want?”

“So many questions, little one.”

TJ gives me a small smile. It’s sad, in a way, and I wonder what he has to be sad about. I just lost my father. I lost everything. He wasn’t the best father, but at least with him around, I always knew my purpose. I always knew what to expect, I guess.

“Are you going to answer them?”

“One of us will answer your questions. Once we’re relocated and settled into a safe house.”

“In Mexico?”

“For now. As soon as the jet is ready, we’ll leave for the States.”

* * *

“Who are you?”I ask Scarface, as I come into the living room. I showered and changed and had a nap for I don’t know how long after a doctor came to check on me and literally shoved a pill down my throat. I’m feeling more like myself, although I’m still a little numb.

Scarface is sitting in front of the coffee table, cleaning out a gun. I sit on a nearby sofa and watch him as he works, wondering where everyone else is.

The house is whisper quiet, and ironically, it’s just a few miles down the road from my father’s house, also overlooking the sea. Surrounded by a massive stone wall, it’s a more modern take on Mexican architecture, and it’s beautiful. I find myself wondering who the house belongs to as I look around the room. Obviously someone with immaculate taste in decor.

”Does it matter?” Scarface responds. I lift my eyes to his and wonder again about the jagged scar running down his cheek.

“How are you here if you worked for my father?”

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