Page 78 of Domino

We all share a laugh, but agony is written into Prophet’s features. He draws in a breath and lets it out slowly. It wavers, but he manages to stuff it all down and keep pretending that he’s the perfect picture of health.

“Cosmo says everything went well today?” he asks.

I nod. “Textbook. Shockingly enough.”

“I’ll take it. About time something went our way.”

“I had the same thought, actually,” I tell him.

His smile is small and weak. “Well, good work. Cosmo says it was one hell of a shot. A shot none of us would have made.”

I shrug. “We don’t know that.”

“Stop being modest. It doesn’t suit you.”

We laugh and Ashley leans her head against my shoulder.

“How many times did they tag you, Prez? And how did they get the drop on you?”

“I was at a light, and this minivan pulls up next to me. Next thing I know, the door flies open, and some dude jumps out and opens fire. He’s back in the van and it’s peeling away before the fuckin’ light even turns green. Fuckin’ cowards. I took four bullets. Only one of them was considered serious, but even that wasn’t all that bad. It’s all good,” he says.

“I’d say it’s pretty far from good.”

“No, you’re right. It’s pretty far from good,” he agrees.

“The question is what are we going to do about it?” I ask.

He looks at Ashley meaningfully, then back to me, the question in his eyes unspoken. I look at Ashley, offering her a small smile.

“I don’t keep anything from her. She knows everything, Prez.”

Prophet nods as if he expected nothing less. And when he looks at Ashley again, I see something like respect for her in his eyes. Like Cosmo said, it takes a certain kind of woman to know what we do and either not run away screaming or call the police on us. But then, Ashley is a rare kind of woman indeed.

“Was it Zavala’s men? Do we know it for sure?” I ask.

He nods. “Yeah, it was them. The shooter told me it was compliments of Zavala himself before he pulled the trigger.”

“Fuckers. What now?” I growl.

Prophet looks at me, pinning me to my spot with just his eyes. I have a feeling I know what the next words out of his mouth will be, and I get the idea Ash does, too, because her grip on my hand tightens. An expression of worry crosses her face, but Prophet remains unflappable. And beyond that, he looks righteously pissed off.

“We’re going to war,” he says.

Damn. I hate being right all the time.

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