Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“What the fuck happened?” he asks as we both get into the truck.
I ignore him, pull my off shirt, and look at the sleeve. There is a small tear in the fabric where the bullet that hit Paulie tore through.
“There was a sniper in there,” I tell him as he stops at the stop light.
“Fuck. Do you know who it was?”
“No clue.” I think, trying to pull up anyone I know with that kind of background.
“Where was Ivan?” Sven asks.
“He was still on the phone, and when Paulie went down, I saw him take off.”
“What now?”
“I go home,” I mutter, not knowing if I’m pissed or relieved.
“This isn’t over,” he reminds me.
“No, it’s not, but now, we have to wait for his dad to make his move.”
“How long will that take?” he sighs.
“No idea. The first thing he’s going to want to do is figure out who took out his son…even if he knew the fucker was trying to take his seat.”
“That does not make me feel better.”
“Did you ever play with blocks when you were a kid?” I ask him.
He looks at me and shrugs. “Sure,” he mutters, obviously wondering where I’m going with my question.
“What happens when you take out the block at the bottom of the building?”
“It falls?”
“No, it gets weak, and then, when you take another, and another, the structure continues to weaken until it eventually falls to pieces.”
“How many more pieces until this is done?”
“One,” I tell him, and the rest of the car ride is silent.
Once we arrive back at the house, we tell Uncle Frank what went down, and he has the same questions we do, but I have no answers.
Sven offers for us to stay, but there is no reason for me to stay in Vegas another night, so I decline his offer but do take him up on using his plane to get back to Hawaii. While we’re getting out of his car at the airport, he gets a text and starts laughing. I don’t expect him to share it, but he tilts his phone towards me and I can’t help but grin.
Justin: Tell Hawaii sorry about his shirt.
I shake my head and move to the plane.
*
I walk into my house, and everyone sitting in the living room stops to look at me, but my eyes are on Myla, whose eyes instantly fill with tears.
“Makamae.”
She comes to me, wrapping her arms around me, and the moment I have her in my arms, a sob tears from her that rips through me.
“I’m home. I told you I would be.”
“I know!” she cries.
I tilt her head back and kiss her, absorbing her taste, letting her soak back into my system.
“I was so worried.” She holds me tighter, and I do the same.
“Nothing could keep me from you. Not even the devil himself,” I whisper into her ear.
She nods then lifts her tear-filled eyes to mine. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” I hold her face in my palms and kiss her again, the salty taste of her tears mixing in with her natural sweetness.
“Oh, God,” my mom whimpers.
Myla wipes her cheeks then steps back.
“You’re not dead?!” my sister cries.
I shake my head. “I had to take care of some business,” I explain.
“I should kick your fucking ass,” Pika yells, rushing towards me, and I brace myself, ready for impact.
“Pika, I knew all along!” Myla cries.
Pika stops halfway and looks at her.
“He came and saw me the night he went missing. I wanted to tell you guys, but I promised not to tell anyone,” she whispers.
Aye glares at her. “You cried and screamed about keeping the search going. You flipped out whenever we talked about giving up and having a funeral.”
She drops her head, looking at her feet. “I didn’t want to have a funeral. I didn’t want you guys to give up hope,” she whispers.
“This isn’t her fault. This is on me. I made her promise not to tell anyone.” I go to her and wrap my arms around her. “I didn’t want anyone to know what was going on. I couldn’t risk anyone finding out I wasn’t dead.”
“I know that we raised you to always do what needs to be done, but this is going too far. Your mom was a wreck, and your sister and brother were devastated,” my father scolds.
“Sorry, Dad, but I had to make sure that, when my son takes his first breath, nothing and no one can harm him,” I explain, and I see understanding flash in my father’s eyes.
“We thought you were dead. I believed I was going to have to plan a funeral then figure out how to get Myla through this pregnancy without her having a meltdown!” my mom shouts.
Guilt strikes me hard. She would have done it. She would have put her own pain away to make sure everyone else was taken care of.