Page 15 of The Complete Truth Duet
Dante lurched forward, his chest colliding with Drew’s.
I didn’t move, but I was ready, every muscle I possessed coiled for action.
The brothers had been on the edge of explosion since we’d met up with them that morning. Marcos and Dante had been none too thrilled their dear old daddy had assigned two strangers to work for them. But they’d both managed to keep it in check—well, almost.
“Outstanding,” Marcos groaned as if he’d been inconvenienced.
“Listen up, motherfucker,” Dante snarled. “You’re in my house now.” He slid his drug-induced, glassy eyes to me. “I dug both your graves last night. Nice quiet little spot where the vultures can feast for days.”
Drew had always been an arrogant smartass. Swear to God, he came out of the womb with his hands raised loud and proud, flipping the doctor off. But he used to at least realize there was a time and a place for his stupidity. Clearly, prison had changed that.
“So, not underground, then?” He covered his heart with his hand. “Whew! Thank God. Few years in lockup and suddenly I’m claustrophobic as fuck.”
Dante did not seem amused—a fact he made known when, less than a second later, a gun was retrieved from the back of his pants and pressed between Drew’s eyes.
Just as fast, I dropped the toolbox and caught Marcos around the neck. If anything happened to Drew, I was ready to crack his spine without a single hesitation.
In a blink, Marcos produced his own weapon and stabbed it under the hinge of my jaw. I tightened my hold around his neck.
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa!” Drew exclaimed. “Everyone just relax.” He laughed. “This is nothing more than a little spat among family.”
Yes, with a gun to his head and another under my chin, the idiot laughed.
Suddenly, I was the one who wanted to kill him.
But that could wait…
“We are not family,” Dante seethed.
Drew lifted his arms out to his sides. It would have looked like a surrender if he hadn’t stepped closer to the gun, pressing the tip deeper into his flesh. “My last name isn’t Guerrero, but your father made me one.” Another step forward forced Dante to take one back. “Go ahead. Let word get out that you put a bullet in my skull. You’ll be begging for the birds to pick the flesh from your bones.” He dropped his hands. “You can’t touch me any more than I can touch you. So how about you get your tweaked-out ass in your car, drive away, and let me do my goddamn job.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
My lungs burned as I held my breath. This was not exactly the new start I’d been looking for that morning. It was perilously close to an end instead.
Dante stared, his trigger finger twitching each time he sniffled.
And Drew stared back, a huge shit-eating grin splitting his face, all the confidence in the world damn near suffocating me.
Finally, it was Marcos, still in my hold, who broke the tension. “We have shit to do and that does not include listening to Pop’s line of bullshit if you do something stupid, Dante. Leave them be and let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Dante didn’t immediately move, and as the seconds wore on, I feared he wasn’t going to. But then, with a quick burst of laughter, he lowered the gun.
And promptly head-butted Drew in the nose.
“Motherfucker!” Drew boomed.
My vision flashed red, and on pure instinct, I slung Marcos to the side and bolted toward Dante.
Drew threw up a hand to stop me. “Stay out of it, Penn.”
I couldn’t do that. He knew that better than anyone. He was all I had left.
However, the decision was made for me when Dante simply tucked the gun into the waist of his pants, threw one last glare at Drew, turned on a toe, and then strolled away. Marcos fell into step at his side, straightening his suit coat as they leisurely walked to the black Mercedes.
What. The. Fuck.
As their car disappeared around the corner, Drew sidled up next to me, blood pouring from his nose and soaking the front of his shirt. “I think that went well.”
I clenched my jaw. “Are you insane?”
Tilting his head back in a useless attempt to stop the bleeding, he waved me off. “Please. That guy was a pussycat. You should meet their old man. Manuel’s a beast. They go against anything he says—son or not—and he’ll snatch the spine from their bodies Mortal Combat style.”
Incredulous, I scowled at him. It only made him start laughing like the dumbass he truly was.
“That was impressive,” a woman called, joining the conversation. “I get it now.” The blonde from earlier jogged over, a towel thrown over her shoulder. She stopped in front of us and peered up at me.
Christ, she was beaut—Whatever. It didn’t matter.
I crossed my arms over my chest and aimed my gaze at nothingness over her shoulder. “Get what?”
