Page 39 of High

Thiago

The first kill was always the hardest. I knew that from experience, and by the look on Manny’s face, he’d just learned that lesson as well. I hated seeing him like this, his bottom lip jutted as he stared at our clasped hands. There was nothing I could say that would make him feel better.

I cringed when a spike of pain whipped through my body, originating from the injury on my arm. With the painkillers Ryan had given me, I’d only felt the familiar pull of stitches in it—until now. The brunt force of hitting the ground, and the feel of wetness under my shirt, told me I’d probably busted some stitches.

“Are you all right?” I asked Manny, reaching out and dragging him closer. I kept my sore arm against my side because the last thing I wanted to do was worry him.

“I think so,” he murmured, finally raising his gaze to me. “I killed him, didn’t I?”

“No, hermoso. I did. You only put a bullet in him first.” I stroked my fingers down his face and kissed his forehead.

“But I shot him in the chest. He was my friend, Thio. What did I do?” He swallowed and buried his face against my shoulder, and I let him hide there.

“You did what you needed to. You saved my life. Do you think he wouldn’t have shot me, Manny? He wasn’t your friend, no matter how much he pretended to be. He still worked for your papá, and he was planning on taking you back to that room where you’d be locked away again. You weren’t just protecting me, hermoso, you were protecting yourself.” I cupped his cheek and pressed my forehead against his. Everything about him was comforting to me, a familiarity from my life beforePapá died, before I lost that innocent part of myself. Now I was Jefe, and I did what I had to do. Killing someone wasn’t high on the list of things that upset me.

“I know. I’ve just… never taken a life.” He pressed his lips together and smiled sadly. “But I would always choose you, Thio. This isn’t one-sided.”

“I know, mi amor. Te quiero.” I kissed him gently on the lips. “I love you.”

The car began to slow and then came to a stop as the privacy window that blocked us from the driver and Rafael slid down.

Rafael cleared his throat, glancing over his shoulder at us. “We’re here, Jefe.”

“Where’s here?” Manny asked, tugging away to stare out the window at the mansion.

Odin’s house was one of luxury; two-stories tall and made from white marble and stone, it had a contemporary appearance. Several men stood on one of the upper balconies clearly engrossed in a conversation, but they stopped to watch us. Normally I wouldn’t have taken so long getting out, but I didn’t want to rush Manny. He smiled at a nearby stone water fountain featuring several dolphins on waves and seemed to take heart from it as he opened the door and slid out first. I followed, holding my hand out to Manny, who took it with a smile.

Rafael chose to walk behind us, and Arlo arrived in a second car, which pulled to a stop behind our own. He nodded at me when he got out, but I merely gritted my teeth at him. I didn’t like him being here, but we had no choice. As terrible as he would have been as the boss, he had a charming personality a lot of our business partners enjoyed, and he could talk his way out of nearly anything.

The windows to the house were wide, but the inside was hidden by black wooden blinds, and the greenery outside was well-maintained with a mixture of colorful flowers that made the front of the mansion smell nice. I picked up the scent of roses, the same kind Mamá loved.

We headed to the front door where Santiago was already waiting for us. Two men walked past him and came outside, and I knew from my last visit they would be taking our weapons to store them in the safe behind the bar. I held up my hands to show them neither Manny nor I were armed, and they went to my men instead, though only after Santiago gave them a nod.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his beefy chest, and was dressed exactly how he always was in a pair of weathered jeans and black shirt, with his leather jacket sporting the Norse Lords patch over the top. He also kept his dark hair short enough that no one would have a hope of grabbing hold of it in a fight—that wasn’t new, either.

“Hola, primo.” I grinned at him and held out my hand.

Santiago sighed and took it in a firm handshake. “Cómo estuvo el viaje hacia aqui?”

I laughed. “Pleasant.”

He nodded and stood straighter, letting his arms fall to his sides. Santi looked every bit like his mamá Maria, who in turn looked like her brother, my papá. It wasn’t hard to tell he was a Reyes, even if he chose the biker life over our cartel. “You don’t have a meeting with Odin until next week. Why are you here early?”

“Am I not allowed to have a vacation?” I gestured at Manny. “I told him how beautiful Pleasant Beach was.”

Santi’s gaze slid to Manny and he grinned. He walked down the two steps and tugged him into a hug, and they both laughed. “Emmanuel Méndez-Beltrán? Mierda. I haven’t seen you in years.”

“I think the last time you saw me was when you left San Diego,” Manny said, eyes brighter than they had been in the car. At least seeing Santi had him relaxing. I hated when he was upset. “How old was I? Thirteen? Fourteen?”

“Something like that.” Santi stepped back and studied him. “You’re skinnier.”

Manny rolled his eyes. “Gracias, pendejo.”

“Hey, there’s no need for name-calling.” Santi laughed harder before he turned his attention on me again. The happiness died from his eyes, as though the mere sight of me irritated him. I was used to being persona non grata when it came to my cousin. “Why are you here now?”

“I need to see Odin. Something happened,” I said.

He snorted. “Why am I not surprised? Something always happens with you.”