Page 86 of Bad Men

“Come home. Please.”

The cursor blinked in rapid succession, beckoning me to keep going, to finally finish the words I’d been trying to type for the better part of two months.

My thumb hovered inches over the send button. It was much closer than it had been the day before, or the day before that. It was only a matter of time before I wouldn’t hesitate. I would send her the plea and pray she replied.

I hit delete and put the phone face down on the table.

Again.

The smooth, black case stared back at me, a mockery of my cowardice. It made me wonder if I actually deserved Mia when I couldn’t send one lousy text. I’d been trying every day since she left, stabbing out the same three words with my heart in my throat. And, every day, I watched the cursor devour them all over again.

It was an addiction, a new way to torture myself. It was a reminder that I was weak; what kind of man would hesitate? What kind of mob boss feared rejection? I knew that was what it was. I was terrified she would tell me to stop messaging her. I was terrified she wouldn’t answer at all. Sending so much as a hello into the void and getting nothing in return was a different kind of rejection, one I wasn’t prepared for. The other part was pride. Reaching out to her when I hadn’t accomplished everything I promised I would felt like a failure and I didn’t want her to see that.

I glared at the skyline outside my new apartment windows. The fall colors seemed to light up the city below with vibrant life and promise. I had never much cared for autumn. I never particularly cared for any season, but it brought to mind that fateful Halloween night when Mia had drop kicked my world just by walking into that blasted party. I’d had no idea little Mia Martinez could look the way she had, but it was the days and weeks after that really had me noticing her. It was the way she was so close to her family. The way she always stood a little too close to her mother, braced as if prepared to catch the other woman if necessary. It was the way she walked into a space and everyone immediately broke into a smile and wave; Luis had been right when he’d said she had a community, people who loved her. Maybe a part of me wanted what she had, wanted that kind of love and family. A much larger part of me wanted it with her and Davien. But I continued to be the thing she should stay away from. Her absence hadn’t made me a better man. I hadn’t cleaned up my act. I was still Nero Diaz.

Enforcer.

Killer.

Gun for hire.

Only now, I had power and wealth.

I had a waterfront condo that I still wasn’t used to, a closet of fancy dress suits I hated wearing and a title that didn’t quite fit right. None of it felt right without her.

“Nero?”

Davien’s quiet murmur brought me back to the present and the man glowering at me from across the desk. I’d forgotten about him.

“Yeah, sorry.”

My best friend studied my face a long moment, dark eyes assessing the way they seemed to be doing a lot lately. “You okay?”

I shifted in my seat, his attention unnerving me. “Yeah, just thinking.”

It wasn’t a lie.

“Mia?” The mention of her name had my head coming up. My confusion must have shown on my face because he nodded in the direction of my abandoned phone. “You’ve checked your phone nine times in the last five minutes.”

Anyone else, I would have told them to mind their own business. I would have shot them just to drive the point home. But there was no point lying to Davien. The majority of our time was spent alone in a massive condo neither of us felt home in, debating whether or not to simply track her down and drag her back with us. Davien was usually pro the hunt and haul idea. His logic was to get her home and talk about the rest once we had her back. Some days, I agreed with him. Other days, I wanted to find her simply so I could yell at her for leaving without at least talking to us. On days I felt levelheaded, I didn’t blame her for leaving and knew she’d had the right idea. But now wasn’t the time to think or talk about Mia.

“What were you saying?” I asked instead.

Davien eyed me a second longer before repeating himself. “There’s word amongst the men that Joaquin is back and stirring up shit. He’s been talking to Cortez’s old crew, trying to start an uprising, or some shit like this is The Hunger Games or something.”

Joaquin had become a pain in my ass since word got out that I was taking Cortez’s seat. He’d vanished the day of the meeting, no doubt booking it underground when it became clear Cortez was getting the ax. No one had heard from him in weeks, then suddenly, out of the blue, the fucker was popping up at every turn like a bad penny and trying to stir trouble with my new crew. It was no secret he was trying to overthrow me. In a perfect world, the seat would have gone to him after Cortez’s death. Getting hand picked to replace him hadn’t earned me any favors. Just a nutcase trying to undo everything I’d worked hard to create.

“Where is he?”

“Still no location. He’s being careful, but I have guys putting feelers out. I’ll take care of him once he’s found.”

I nodded, attention pivoting towards the window once more. “Keep me posted.”

“We might have to fire the cleaning lady.”

The random statement caught me off guard. My head jerked back to the man standing solemnly across from me.

“Olga? Why?”

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