Page 53 of The Hate We Breathe
The biggest issue now is our status within Darrio’s organization. I scrub a hand over my face and roll the window down as I flip up the console and start searching.
“What are you looking for?” Gio glances my way.
“Cigs,” I say. “I’m craving one.”
He doesn’t hesitate in pointing me towards the glove box. Arching a brow, I pop it open and find an unopened pack of cigarettes and a lighter waiting for me. “Trying to quit?” I ask, as I unwrap and slap the new pack against my palm a few times before opening it.
“Something like that,” he quips, lips curving down. “I don’t want to taste like an ashtray when I kiss Jules.”
Pausing with a cigarette halfway lifted to my lips, I curse. I contemplate just tossing the entire pack out the window before I can finish lighting up. In the end, I simply put the cig away and shove the packet back into the glove box with movements that are too sharp.
“I didn’t say that you had to stop,” G says, his lips no longer curved down, but twitching in amusement. In lieu of an answer, I flip him the bird, which actually earns an audible chuckle from him. The first since last night.
The sound is long gone by the time we pull up outside of the Vargas house. “You want to stay here?” I ask.
Gio doesn’t answer for a long moment and that, more than anything, tells me how fucked in the head he is. Fucking Juliet had calmed him, but now, in the harsh light of day, it’s time to face the reality. Gio doesn’t have parents anymore. He never had a father, but now… now he doesn’t have his mom either.
No matter how tough you are, how grown you are, how skilled or smart, nothing hurts more than that kind of rejection.Parents are supposed to love their children unconditionally. It’s biological—or so we’ve been told.
That kind of rejection would make anyone wonder what the fuck is wrong with them even if they were never the problem. Some people just aren’t meant to be parents.
I don’t ask the question again and I don’t pressure him to get out and get this shit over with. Ten minutes later, he shuts off the car and gets out. I follow, a silent shadow for what he’s about to do. What we’re both about to do.
Together, we make our way up the front steps, the cracked foundation of the concrete walkway at the base of the rickety entrance acting almost as a line to cross. “Don’t knock,” I say quietly. “There’s no point.”
He nods and turns the knob, finding the door unlocked. We enter the house and the remains of what happened last night are obvious and all over the front room. The broken ruins of the coffee table are in splinters across the floor, with the larger pieces collected in a pile against the wall. There’s blood staining the couch and carpet. The smell of beer, iron, and bleach is rich in the air.
I’m more surprised than not to find Darrio not laid out on the couch nursing whatever wounds Gio had given him. At least it makes our job easier. “Go on and get whatever else you need,” I tell him. “I’ll check out the rest of the house.”
Gio is silent, but he follows my commands, moving towards the hallway with stiff shoulders. So, it goes. I case the small two-bedroom house. There’s an open, obviously pilfered, first aid kit on the kitchen counter and bloodied towels hanging off one of the chairs at the table. The door to the bathroom hangs open, but no sign of life. The primary bedroom is empty. Even Camila, Gio’s mom, is gone.
Half an hour after our arrival, I check my phone. The only messages I have from the last twelve hours are from the guysand Kane. As I stare at the screen, a new one comes in. A picture of Juliet dressed in all black with a waitressing apron wrapped around her hips as she stands at the familiar bar at The Dionysus Lounge.
LEX:She took the job back.
I’d expected as much,but it’s good to know a decision has been made. Whatever we do, it was never my intention to keep Juliet locked up. Now, however, I expect one of us will have to spend more time at Ma-Ri’s just to keep an eye on her. I wonder if Ma-Ri’s looking to hire any security.
The creak of a floorboard precedes Gio’s reentry to the living room. I look up, slipping my phone back into my pocket as I eye him. His shoulders are tight, but his face is expressionless as he hefts two bags—one plastic and obviously full of toiletries, the other an old camping backpack.
“That all?”
“This is all the shit I paid for,” he tells me. “I don’t want shit from him.”
I nod. I can’t blame him. “Where’s the house key?”
Gio tips his head in the direction of the hall. “I left it on the bed.”
“Then let’s get out of here.” Lex’s place is about to be real crowded.
Before the two of us make it to the door, the knob turns and it swings open. I brace myself for a fight and when Darrio Vargas himself steps inside, face a fucking mess and favoring his left side, I debate on if we’re really about to get one. For a moment, no one says a word. Gio and Darrio stare at each other, hatred gleaming in Darrio’s eyes and emptiness in Gio’s.
Darrio’s gaze flickers to the bags in Gio’s hands. “Stealing?” he growls.
“Nope.” Gio’s tone is flat. “I bought everything in these bags.”
Darrio sneers and before the tension can escalate, I step between the two of them, drawing his attention. “Go get in the car,” I order. Gio doesn’t move for a moment, but then, he seems to give in and circles the two of us, slipping out the front door and down the steps without another word.
“He’s out.” Darrio’s words are clear, concise, vile.
