Page 33 of Violent Attraction

My mom needs me right now, more than anything.

But I can’t seem to move away from the screen.

I shake my head. “I need to do this. I need to find the fucking bastards.”

“You will and I’ll fucking help you, but right now there are other things that are more important.” He’s getting angry at me, I can hear it, that still doesn’t make me stop.

“Let me do this. Just for tonight. Come the morning, I will take care of everything else.”

I look at my friend, practically begging with my eyes for him to let me do this.

Things were different for me than they were for him when it came to my father.

I actually had a relationship with him.

My father respected me, he fucking loved me.

Those are things that Leo doesn’t have with Ronaldo.

After a long second though, he finally nods, giving me this one thing.

I throw a silent ‘thank you’ in his direction and go back to the task at hand, finding the bastards that killed my father.

For the next two hours or so, I go through every piece of security footage that I have found from the truck stop we were at this morning.

We were doing a run.

It was one of the first runs that me and him had done together in a while.

Everything was going as planned. We had successfully moved a truck from a warehouse we have in Austin, filled with Colombian cocaine. Five thousand kilos were on their way to be sold and me and my dad were headed back to Austin so that he could come back to San Pedro.

The only logical explanation that I have is that we were being followed. That’s the only way the gunmen knew where to find us. Where we were vulnerable. They were probably waiting for the right moment to go through whatever they had planned.

Mine and my father’s plan after dropping off the shipment, was to drive through to Austin. But the gas gauge on the box truck we had was giving us trouble, so we needed to pull off.

It was supposed to be just ten minutes.

Ten minutes and we would be back on the road.

We weren’t even there for ten minutes before the shots started to ring out.

They took me by surprise, and when I turned, I knew my reaction time was too slow.

My father was already falling to the ground.

Blood was coating the asphalt.

I couldn’t comprehend a thing, and when I finally did, I ran over to him. I held his body as tightly as I could, trying to stop the blood from escaping.

For a few minutes, I thought that it was going to be okay. He was speaking, but his eyes wouldn’t stay open.

When I felt his body go limp, that was when I knew he was gone.

Police arrived after that.

Followed by the paramedics, but they were too late.

I was questioned about every last detail.

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