Page 16 of Wounded Wing

The stark contrast between the man I just spilled my truths to the man that is unfolding before me is enough evidence to rebuild the walls around my heart.

Chapter ten

Ángel Ladrón walks mywife out of his gym like a proper gentleman until he notices my presence. His broad shoulder brushes against Mae, pushing her aside and making her stumble. I find great enjoyment in knowing thatmon papillonis surrounded by the very monsters she claims to hate.

Poetic.

Ladrón smiles coyly at me, swaying his hips as he approaches the car door. I roll the window down, waiting expectantly to hear what the pro fighter has to say.

“AtticusfuckingLennon in the flesh, atmygym. And people say miracles don’t exist,” he jokes.

Smirking, I extend my hand through the window. “Good to see you, my friend. You’re looking well, though I must say that you looked much better last we spoke.” I lick my lips, recalling just how good he looked sandwiched between two women.

His eyes wonder, glancing subtly at Mae, who has since settled into the passenger seat and taken to looking out her window, ignoring our conversation completely.

“You have a great business model, Lennon. I’ll give ya that. Plus, it doesn’t hurt to be serviced by a beautiful woman or two after a long day, right, amigo?” he winks.

Mae’s body stiffens, clearly having heard the last bit of his statement. It’s amusing that she still reacts this way after all these years. It appears that I don’t have to do the leg work in revealing who the monsters are in her life. They seem to be doing that part all on their own.

I nod my head towards Mae, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Too right, my friend. Speaking of services, I need to take off. You know where to find me if you need to whet your appetite.”

Ángel nods his head subtly in return, pasting a friendly smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Something slips in his demeanor. The notion has my nerves firing rapidly. Something feels off about him today, but I can’t place it. He raises a hand to his forehead, offering me a two-fingered salute before he jogs backwards, the rosary around his neck glinting in the sun.

“I’ll be seeing you soon, Lennon,” he quips.

Shaking my head, I shift the car into gear. Mae’s hands clench against her thighs, undoubtedly worried about what I have planned for her. I look up to the rearview mirror and see Ángel standing by his gym’s entrance, staring the car down with his bulging arms crossed. His face no longer wearing the friendly smile he gave me, in its place is a look that only a fellow killer would recognize.

Ángel Ladrón is out for blood.

I peel the car out towards the street, throwing Mae’s head back into the headrest. Her plush lips pull into a grimace, unappreciative of my showboating as I send us passing through traffic in a blur.

“Don’t you want to know where I’m taking you,cher?” I tease.

She sits in silence, not trusting that I won’t snap and send us careening into traffic.

Tempting thought.

I flex my fingers to release the built-up tension. I gently grasp her hand into mine, using hers to control the gear shift with my aid. I glance towards my wife, watching as she worries her trembling, bottom lip between her teeth. I caress her hand with my thumb.

“Speak,petit papillon. Would you like to know?”

Her shoulders tense before she forces them to relax. “Y-yes. Yes, I would like to know where you’re taking me,” she stutters quietly.

Displeasure courses through my veins. As much as I want to break her, I don’t want a rabbit for a wife. No, I take great pleasure in forcing herintosubmission. The fact that onlyIcan do that to her, turns me into the very monster that confronted her those weeks ago. I jerk the wheel sharply, drifting around the street corner. I ease my foot off the gas pedal as we enter the industrial park.

A smirk tugs at my mouth. “I thought you would like to spend some time in your warehouse.”

Her smile is instantaneous, gratitude shining through her white teeth. She untangles our hands from the gear stick and practically throws herself from the vehicle. Her footsteps quicken the closer she gets to the steel garage door. Choosing to believe she’s excited to work on her projects instead of running away from me, I move to open my door when a vibration in the center console stops me.

Fuck!

I pop the console open, removing my cell phone to see the nameKudoflashing across the screen. My thumb slides across the flashing green phone symbol as Kudo’s polished accent fills the silence. “Good afternoon, Mr. Lennon.”

“Good afternoon to you, Kudo. To what do I owe this pleasure?” I ask, briskly.

Ren Kudo’s reach goes further than most here in the States would ever know. His Yakuza family ties, paired with his multi-million dollar business, means that making a deal with him is ideal for continued success unless you gamble your empire away. I’ve seen associates come out on top with his aid, while others have fallen to their knees, pleading for mercy. I admire that about him; he’s cutthroat on the street and ruthless in the boardroom.

A dissatisfied grunt fills my ear, clueing me in that I missed whatever the fuck he just said.

---