There used to be comfort in the silence. I could sit on my couch, click through channels, and be at peace with the rain drumming my windows. But ever since I left Gwen’s, my mind has been like a bee’s nest. 

It doesn’t help that I was supposed to meet with Kay at the warehouse, but he moved it to tomorrow. So something must have changed, but what? We still need to find Richie, and the clock is ticking on Alma. Augusta said the caravan of women moves tomorrow night, so we need a damn miracle. 

There is a knock at my apartment door, and it squeaks open as Jackson steps inside. He looks like shit with stubble growing across his dark jawline and eye-bags as heavy as overstuffed luggage, ready to explode at the seams. Even his sweats and grey hoodie have seen better days.

“You look like shit,” he says, closing the door behind him.

“As do you.”

“The police detained me for twelve hours,” Jackson says. “They interrogated me like some suspect. They didn’t release me until early this morning.”

“Wait.” I furrow my brows. “You mean to tell me that when you went to the police station after dropping me off here yesterday, they kept you for twelve hours?”

“Yep.”

“Holy shit. Well, I was there too, except I got tossed in jail because fucking Celia claimed I violated the restraining order.”

“What, why?”

“It’s a long story, starting with my mom acting like my damn security guard.”

“Jesus.” Jackson rubs his eyes. “Any word on Alma?” He crosses the room and plops onto the couch beside me. 

“Yeah.”

“Really?” He sits upright. “Well, go on!”

“Augusta sent me this video…” I text it to his phone, and a few seconds later, it chimes. “They’re still in the area, and will be on the move tomorrow night, so Augusta is going to talk to Emilio about letting us extract Alma before that happens.”

A sob releases from deep within Jackson’s chest as he watches the video. Then, his watery gaze meets mine, and saliva stretches between his teeth as he cries out, “She’s alive. Thank God.” 

“We’re getting her back.”

“So what do we owe the Sisters for this?”

“Don’t worry about it. I got it covered.”

“What do you mean?”

“I said, don’t worry about it.” I turn off the TV and pivot to face Jackson. “We were supposed to meet with Kay today, but he moved it to tomorrow. Something is off, but we still need to find Richie, so Sammy will help us tail Kay to wherever they’ve got him.”

“When?” 

“Tonight. And when we extract Alma tomorrow, I think we should plant Richie there, so when he dies, police will think he was part of it.”

“We can make it look like they kidnapped him, too. That will explain all his wounds and bruises, especially why he doesn’t have nipples anymore.” 

“Yes, exactly! We can make this work to our advantage. Two birds, one stone. Get Alma out and get Richie in.”

“But no matter what, we get Alma out,” Jackson says.

“Of course. No matter what. I will die trying.”

Jackson nods while releasing a long breath. “Hopefully, it doesn’t come to that. So when do we meet with Sammy?” 

“He said he’ll call me.” I glance at my watch and stand. “Probably not until it’s dark. So I guess we kill time for now. I’m gonna take a shit.” 

“Alright, I’ll be right here.”

A few minutes later, I return to the living room to find Jackson asleep on the couch. He must be exhausted after getting questioned by the police for twelve hours. A yawn escapes my mouth, and I’m honestly depleted from the last few hours, too, so I sink onto the couch next to him and shut my eyes.

∆∆∆

Something is licking me.

When I wake up, my mother’s dog, Cha Cha, is sitting on the couch between Jackson and me, licking my arm. The atmosphere is warm as if the oven is on, and there is the scent of something broth-like in the air.

“How the fuck?” I rub my face.

“Oh, you’re awake now,” my mom says from the kitchen. “I have Cha Cha’s dinner in the oven. She eats at five o’clock.”

“Ok…” I rise from the couch, and beside me, Jackson yawns. “Ma, what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing here?” She sets the oven mitts on the counter and removes her apron. “You’re supposed to watch Cha Cha for me.”

“What now?”

“Remember? I’m going to Reno with the girls for a few days.” 

“No. When the hell did you tell me this?”

“Last week! Ay, dios mío. I swear you never listen to me.” She rubs her temples.

“Smells good.” Jackson approaches, his eyes still sleepy, and my mom's frustrated expression morphs into a smile.

“Thank you. I make Cha Cha’s food fresh from scratch. None of this store-bought caca. Only the best for my baby.”

I point to myself. “I’m your baby.”

“Don’t be jealous!” My mom plucks Cha Cha from the floor and cradles her. “Be kind to your little sister.”

“Seriously…”

“Anyway.” She shoves Cha Cha into my arms, then returns to the stove. “I thought you boys might be hungry, but all Miguel had was meat and potatoes in the fridge, so I whipped together beef stew. Seriously, mijo, you need to add variety to your diet.”

“I need protein.”

“You need more veggies,” she tuts. “But I have to go now. I put the rest of Cha Cha’s food in the fridge, and she gets a treat after dinner. Just one. And she likes to sleep on the bed, so please don’t leave her out here in the living room alone.”

“Ma, this is seriously a bad time. We’ve got a lot of shit going on.”

“You told me you could watch Cha Cha!” She wags her finger at me.

“I do not remember saying such a thing!”

“Ay, dios mio…” my mom pinches the bridge of her nose. “You’ve been so distracted lately, and I know it’s because you’re up to no good.”

“I swear, nothing is going on.”

My mom drops her hand and looks at Jackson. “Miguel thinks I can’t tell when he’s lying.”

“Yeah, his face does give it away…” Jackson agrees, and my jaw drops.

“You’re on her side!?”

“She makes good food.” Jackson shrugs.

“Anyway, I have to go.” My mom kisses Cha Cha’s head and grabs her purse. “We’re staying at an Air B&B. I left the address on the fridge.”

“You can’t leave her here.” I try passing Cha Cha back to her, but she ignores me and whips out her phone.

“Let’s take a selfie.”

“What?”

“Andale! Take a selfie with me. I look cute.” My mom stretches her arm and snuggles next to me, so I have no choice but to smile at the camera. “Ok, now one with Jackson in it.”

“Ma…”

“Deja de joder, and just do it!” my mom barks, then wedges herself between Jackson and me, a massive grin on her face. 

She snaps a few shots, and we humor her with smiles and poses. Then she kisses me on the cheeks, says goodbye, and swings open the apartment door to make her exit, but Angie is standing there. The woman looks as pale as the moon and holds the wall with one hand while the other is tucked in a sling. Beads of sweat freckle her forehead, and she’s breathing heavily.

“Jesus Christ, Angie! Shouldn’t you still be in the hospital?” I brush past my mom and guide her inside.

“Who is this?” my mom furrows her brows and closes the door behind us. 

I guess she’s staying for a few more minutes.

“Ma, this is Angie.” I motion between them. “Angie, this is my mom.”

“Nice to meet you…” Angie mumbles and eases onto the couch.

“You look like shit. Why would they discharge you so soon?” 

“They didn’t. I discharged myself.”

“What? Why!”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because of fucking Jeremiah!”

“Your ex?”

Angie’s eyes flick to my mom, then back at me. “Can I have some water or something?”

“Yeah, of course.” I head to the kitchen, but my mom intercepts with arms crossed.

“What is going on here?”

“I thought you had somewhere to be?”

“I do, but mijo, something is going on, and I don’t like it. I know how you get. You are up to no good. I just know it.”

“Ma.” I rest my hands on her shoulders and kiss her forehead. “Don’t worry about it. Go have fun with the girls in Reno.”

“But, mijo.”

“Ma. Go have fun.” I spin her around and escort her to the door. “Off you go.”

“Miguel!”

“Bye, Ma. I’ll look after Cha Cha.” I reach into my jacket hanging on the hook near the door and pull out a few hundred dollar bills. “Here, some spending money.”

“Miguel, wait!” 

“Love you. Have fun.” I close the door on her, and I know it’s a dick move shoving her out of the apartment, and she’s probably standing on the other side with hands on her hips, but she doesn’t need to be involved in my bullshit.

“Whoa…” Jackson says behind me. “Where did all that money come from?”

“What?” I whirl around and see the thousands of dollars spilled at my feet. The rest must have fallen out when I gave my mom the money. “Shit.”

“What the hell, man? That’s a lot of money.”

“Yeah…” I gather it up, but Jackson snatches a few bills.

“What’s it for?” 

“Just a quick side hustle. Don’t worry about it.”

“Wait a sec,” Angie clears her throat and wipes her brow. “Did Augusta give you all that for fucking her?” 

“Yes.”

“Hold on, what!” Jackson says, but I rise and shove part of the money back into my jacket.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

But Angie doesn’t take the hint and keeps yammering. “Augusta wouldn’t give him the information about Alma unless he gave her oral.”

“Hold the fuck on!” Jackson barks. “Miguel, did you really have sex with Augusta for this information?”

I avert his gaze. “Yes.” 

“What?” Jackson gasps, then closes his eyes briefly before looking at me. “And that’s where this money came from?”

“Yes.”

“Miguel. No…” Jackson shakes his head.

“Stop looking at me like that, man. I did what I had to.”

“At what cost?”

“It’s all right there.” I point to the cash clenched in his fist. 

“No, I mean, what else will that woman want? Someone who pays this much wants to own you.”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s helping us find Alma.”

“It does matter!” Jackson slumps onto the couch and slaps the cash onto the coffee table. “We should have gone to Sammy first.”

Angie scratches her brow. “But what I don’t understand is why she paid you. It doesn’t make sense unless Jackson is right, and she wants to own you. I should have never told you to go through with it…”

“What?” Jackson darts his gaze at her. “You encouraged him to have sex with Augusta?”

“Not exactly…” she says.

“Like you give a fuck, Angie.” I roll my eyes.“You’re just as manipulative as her.”

“Excuse me?”

“You both use sex to control and manipulate.”

“The fuck I do!”

“Have you forgotten how this whole thing started?”

“I had my reasons.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure Augusta does, too, because you’re both twisted fucks.”

Angie’s eyes widen as she reels her head back with a shake. “Don’t take your anger out on me! You’re a grown-ass man, and you chose to do it.” 

“You think I had a choice? Are you serious?” My brows fly to my hairline. “I would think that after your ex-husband put you in a mental hospital, you would understand not having any control or say in what happens to you.”

Angie gasps, “What did you say?”

Oops. Too late to take back those words. The cat is out of the bag, so I fold my arms and harden my stare. “You thought I wouldn’t play your sick game and dig up dirt on you?” 

“I ought to kill you!” Angie skyrockets from the couch but almost loses her balance.

“Alright. Alright!” Jackson steps between us, his arms out like a boxing referee. “You both did fucked up shit to each other, but now we’re here, and Alma is gone, and we need to put aside petty bullshit! Can you both do that for me and Alma?”

Smirking, I stare Angie down. “I can, but I don’t know about her. She does whatever she wants and doesn’t care who gets hurt.”

“I do care!”

“Did you even consider how fucked up it was to tell me to suck it up and fuck Augusta?”

Angie looks away, her eyes watering, but I continue.

 “That woman manipulated me and made it impossible for me to say no. How would you feel if the roles had been reversed and you felt forced to have sex with someone? It would be a MeToo situation, and you know it,” I say, but Angie won’t look me in the eyes, and after a few beats of silence, she wipes her face.

“You're right.”

“What?” 

“I’m sorry.” Angie sniffs back tears. “When you put it like that, it is messed up. All I could think about was getting Alma back, and I should have told you to tell Augusta to go fuck herself. We could have found a different way. I should have called Sammy.”

Jackson sighs and squeezes her shoulder, “It’s not all your fault. I wanted to go to Sammy first, but Miguel's stubborn ass insisted Augusta would get us faster results.”

“And she did,” I say. 

“But at what cost?” Jackson asks, and I shake my head.

“We can worry about that later.” 

“Can we?” 

“Jacks, please. Let’s put our focus on tonight," I sigh, and turn to Angie. "And for the record, Jackson is right. It's not your fault. I'm just... I don't know. Furious."

“I get it." Angie wipes her eyes, so I pull her in for a hug, and she says against my chest. "Wait, what’s happening tonight?”

“We’re going to follow Kay. If he can lead us to Richie, we can steal him back and plant him at the warehouse tomorrow when we save Alma. We need him dead since that was our deal with Augusta so that Rohan Reddy can take over, but I think Jocelyn is playing all of us.”

“Wait.” Angie holds up her hand. “Say that again about Rohan.” 

“He’s Richie’s cousin, and Augusta approved him to take over the family business.” 

“I need to process this.” Angie sinks onto the couch.

“Ok…” I look from her to Jackson and continue. “As I was saying, Augusta is getting death threats, and she said Jocelyn has been acting differently. Then, last night at the club, I ran into Jocelyn and Kay. Something felt off. Not only that, Augusta has no idea that Jocelyn took Richie. Why would she keep that a secret from her sister?”

“You’re right.” Jackson nods. “Things aren’t adding up.”

“Speaking of adding and subtracting…” Angie says. So we look at her, and it’s clear her mind is racing because her eyes search the carpet like she’s forming her thoughts carefully. “Jeremiah visited me at the hospital. It’s part of the reason I left, but when he was there, he got a phone call that I don’t think I was meant to hear.”

“Like what?”

“Jeremiah has a lot of money, and he’s never given me details about the businesses or investors he works with, but I always sensed something shady was happening under the table. At the hospital, he got a call about closing a deal with Rohan.”

“Holy shit,” Jackson and I say at the same time. 

“Yeah…”

“And you think he meant Rohan Reddy,” I ask.

“Well, who the fuck else?” Angie shrugs. “So, I need to message Franky and have her do some research to make sure. But guys, do you know what this means? If  Jeremiah is somehow part of this, we can kill three birds with one stone.” She holds up her fingers and counts them off. “We can rescue Alma and get Richie and my deadbeat ex-husband in that warehouse when shit goes down.”

“That would work.” I nod.

“Alright.” Jackson blows out a breath. “Let’s hope your friend Franky can get us the information by tomorrow.”

“Oh, she will. Franky is damn good at her job.” Angie touches her stomach and sniffs the air. “Are you making dinner?”

“My mom made beef stew,” I say.

“Well, is it ready? All I’ve had to eat is shitty hospital food, so I’m starving.”

Jackson’s hand goes to his stomach too. “And I haven’t eaten since yesterday…”

“Then let’s dig in!” I head for the kitchen.

We’re going to need our strength for what lies ahead. 

*
*
*

This was a late post, but better late than never!

I'm working on wrapping up this story for the Wattys, but I don't know how many more chaps are left. I'm guessing around 10 more 🤔 Thanks for hanging in here with me ❤️