A savory aroma floats from the kitchen as steam rises from a pot on the stove. Angie is there, chopping and preparing things, her hair in a messy bun, and I like watching her when she doesn’t realize I am. Everything hurts, so I’m tucked inside a blanket on the couch, waiting for the pain medicine to kick in and drifting in and out of sleep. 

Someone knocks at the door, causing my eyes to fly open right as I am about to doze off. It might be the doctor Augusta said she would send over, and I’m hoping they can put me into a coma so I don’t have to be in so much pain. Angie goes to the door and welcomes Jackson, Alma, and Chloe into the apartment. I wasn’t expecting them, so I groan. All I want is sleep, and I’m in no shape to entertain guests.

“Holy shit. That asshole beat the hell out of you,” Jackson says.

“It’s about time someone humbles Miguel,” Alma laughs, but Jackson gives her a look. "What?” Alma shrugs at him. “I was joking.” 

Chloe studies my bruises. “Should we be worried? I haven’t met this Kay guy, yet I’m terrified of him.” 

“No. None of you need to worry about shit.” I adjust myself to sit up and growl at the pain. 

Angie rushes from the kitchen. “Easy, Miguel.” 

“I’m fine.”

“The fuck you are. I told you to lay there and relax.” 

“Well, that’s kind of hard when we have guests over.”

Alma’s gaze flashes to Jackson. “Did you hear that, babe? Miguel said ‘we.’ As in him and Angie. I still can’t get over them being together.”

I roll my eyes. “Are we in high school?”

“Don’t spoil my fun.” Alma glares. “Anyway.” She looks around, a smile blooming across her face. “Look…”

Digging into her purse, she pulls out two palm-sized squares, then presents one to Angie and another to Chloe. They gasp simultaneously and burst into squeals, then throw their arms around Alma. Meanwhile, Jackson grins proudly, hands on his hips, watching them, but I still don’t know what’s so damn funny.

“What? What is it?”

Angie's eyes are full of tears when she comes to me. “Look.”

In her hand is a black-and-white image of a tiny little nugget. I’ve never seen a sonogram before, but there is no denying that what I’m seeing is a baby.

“It’s official.” Alma beams. “We suspected I was pregnant, but now we know for sure! And the doctor said that everything looked great. She doesn’t think the baby was harmed when I was… was…” 

She trails off, and Jackson curls his arm around her. “We’re just happy, and I don’t care if it’s a girl or a boy. I’m just happy.”

“Well, one thing is for sure,” I grunt, trying to get to my feet. Angie scolds me, but I bat her hands away, forcing myself to stand. “This baby is going to be so spoiled by Uncle Miguel.”

At this point, Angie knows how stubborn I am, so she hooks her arm around my waist and assists me as I walk to Jackson and Alma. I embrace them as best as possible, gritting my teeth against the ache burning across my torso and limbs. 

“So… Miguel,” Chloe clears her throat. “They told me about Evan, and I’m worried.”

“Don’t be.” I turn to her. “Everything will be alright.”

“I’m not so sure.” Chloe chews her lip. “I was at the hospital with Neil, and the detectives were there, and they asked me questions. Like they were digging. It freaked me out. They asked about Barry.”

“What?” 

“Yeah. His girlfriend reported him missing. The detectives asked if I knew his whereabouts or if I heard from him because his girlfriend thinks he ran off with her money to Las Vegas. They say he has a gambling addiction.”

“Good. Let them think he’s in Vegas.”

“I don’t know.” Chloe rubs her furrowed brows. “It felt like they were feeding me bullshit. Like they were testing me, and I don’t feel good about it. Especially now that I know about Evan. Do you think he talked to the cops about that night?”

“No.” I shake my head. “And we don’t have to worry about it or anything else. I… I took care of things.”

Jackson scrunches his face in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means I made a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” Alma narrows her eyes.

“Augusta wants me to work for her, so I made a few demands before saying yes, and she agreed.”

Jackson shakes his head. “You’re joking. After all the shit she's done, like blackmailing you.” 

“I wish he were kidding,” Angie says, picking at the polish on her nails. “And no, I’m not happy about it. Not after this woman manipulated him and continues to dig her claws in him.”

Alma's expression is neutral when she looks at me. “Do you think she’ll keep her word and uphold your demands?” 

“I do. When we asked her to help us find you, she did. So, as much as I don’t like the thought of being tied to her for five years, at least I know she’ll keep her word.”

“She didn’t keep her word about protecting you,” Angie scoffs.

“Come on.” I look at her. “She said she would take care of it.”

“How? Because so far, I still don’t trust that manipulative puta.”

Closing my eyes, I take a calming breath. “Angie, can we please not fight about this again?”

“Fine. Suit yourself.” Angie spins on her heels and stomps back to the kitchen.

“Five years?” Chloe says. “You’re stuck working for her for five years?” 

“Yeah.”

“I… need to process this.” Jackson sinks into a chair at the small dining table and drops his head into his hands.

“What’s to process?” Alma says. “We should be thanking him. Not giving him a hard time.”

“Thank you.” I motion to her with a nod.

Alma continues, “I hate to admit anytime Miguel is right, but that woman did pull strings to find me. Or have you forgotten, Jackson? She didn’t have to do that. So, I’m choosing to believe she’ll keep her word to Miguel, the same way she kept her word about finding me.”

A knock at the door has Angie going to it with furrowed brows. "What now!?"

"I hope it's not my mom. She has no idea I was jumped."

However, when Angie opens the door, there’s some clean-cut asshole with an expensive smile holding a medical bag. This must be Augusta's doctor. He walks past Angie, inviting himself inside, and scans the room until his eyes land on me. 

“You must be the patient.” He moves past my friends and rests his bag on the coffee table. “Sit anywhere you like, and I’ll start examining you.”

“Yeah… sure…” This guy has some nerve telling me where to sit in my own apartment, but I go back to the couch anyway.

“I pulled the medical chart from your ER visit, and it says you left without being discharged. Tisk tisk.”

“Well, they said nothing major was wrong, so I left.”

The doc looks at me like I’m a little boy who’s been naughty. “You’ve got bruised ribs, a broken arm, and several deep cuts. That’s definitely something wrong. Now take a deep breath when I tell you to.”

He slips a stethoscope around his neck and gets to work while the others stand around awkwardly watching.

One thing is for sure: Augusta kept her word about sending over a doctor. So I’ll take it as a good sign that she won’t let me down.

∆∆∆

Evening rolls around, and I feel like a bum laying on the couch all day while Angie cooks me sopita and brings me tea with pain meds. Lucky for me, she doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she’s never seemed more like herself, and it’s a glimpse into the kind of wife she must have been with Jeremiah. Yet the piece of shit threw her away.

He never deserved her.

It worked in my favor, though. In her mission for vengeance, she stormed into my life like a cyclone over a field of dandelions and turned my world upside down. And I wouldn’t change any of it... well, maybe some of it. Like the hurtful things I said and the way she manipulated me in the beginning. We're past that now, and at the moment, I want nothing more than to join Angie in the shower. Instead, I’m forced to listen to the water running while she's in there with suds trickling down her naked body, and I can't do anything about it. The doctor told me to stop over-exerting myself, and the pain meds have put me in a gelatinous state.

So here I am, a pile of bruised goop.

“Calm down, mini me…” I mutter at my dick and continue clicking through TV channels. 

Then I freeze.

The knob on the front door is turning, but only three people have a copy of my keys; Angie, Jackson, and my mom. However, my mom would knock before unlocking the door... My only defense is the TV remote in my hand, so if Kay has come to finish me off, I will do my best to chuck it at his eyeballs. 

Only it’s not Kay.

“Bernard? The fuck!”

“Good evening.” He nods and steps aside, allowing Augusta to walk in.

“How the fuck do you have a key to my apartment?” 

Augusta removes her coat and says, “I had it made the last time I was here.”

“Oh, you mean the time you came over and fucked me so you could snap blackmail photos?” 

Augusta sighs, “Honestly, Miguel, I thought we were past this?” 

“Why are you here?”

“I wanted you to know we had our meeting at the Wayfare Tavern.” Augusta eases onto the coffee table, crossing one leg over the other, blocking my view of the TV. “We have a plan. However, I don’t want you to worry about it. Instead, I need you to focus on getting through the weekend festivities before we handle Kay.”

“Are you serious?” I laugh.

"I don't see what's so amusing, Miguel."

"You barged into my apartment to tell me you can't tell me about a plan that affects me?"

“Even if I told you, there is nothing you can physically do. Your job is to heal so you’re in better shape for the party. I still need you there.”

“How am I supposed to protect you when I’m all fucked up?”

“I don’t need you to protect me. That’s why I have Bernard and his team. I need you to be my eyes and ears.”

“Well, my eyes are a little swollen at the moment. In case you didn’t know, your ogre jumped me in a dark alleyway.” 

“Always with the histrionics,” Augusta laughs. “I’m having a tailor drop by tomorrow to take your measurements. Now that you’re part of my team, I need you to look sharp. Like Bernard.”

I glance over at the man. He’s always dressed in a crisp suit tailored to his tall frame and bulky muscles. However, I had no idea it was because the she-devil required it, and suddenly, I'm picturing myself in some Gucci.

“What the hell is going on?”

Looking up, I find Angie in a towel and hair dripping with her arms folded. Augusta rises from the coffee table and drapes her coat over her shoulder.

“It's good to see you, Angelina. I was updating Miguel on some news.”

“Well, you’re not welcome here.”

“Angie,” I scold, but she ignores me.

“The last time you were here, you blackmailed him, so there is no way in hell I will allow you to come here and disrespect him again.”

“Noted.” Augusta smiles and leans in. “But just remember everything I’m doing for both of you, so don’t disrespect me.” 

Angie reels back. “I beg your pardon?” 

“I saw on the guest manifest that you’re the plus-one for Francesca,” Augusta says, brushing a few drops off Angie’s shoulders.

“And?” 

“And I have a tailor coming by to take Miguel’s measurements for the gala. I’ll have him take yours, too.”

“What for?” Angie glares.

“I think you deserve to wear a beautiful gown tailored to your curves.” She leans in again and winks. “Make Jeremiah rue the day he cast you aside.” 

This causes Angie to bristle. “No, thank you. I already have a dress picked out.”

“Fine,” Augusta laughs and heads for the door. “Oh, by the way.” She pauses. “You won’t be going back to Penthouse, Miguel.”

“What? Why?” And for the umpteenth time today, I struggle to my feet.

“Because you work for me now, and I need you available.”

“But I like working at Penthouse. I make good money there.”

“You don’t need it. I’m paying you a handsome salary. Not to mention the bonus I gave you.” Augusta looks at me with amusement in her eyes, like she’s taking pity on me for being a simpleton.

I shut my mouth. Having fuck-you money isn’t something I’m used to, and I keep forgetting how much she’s paying me to be her minion. 

She takes one last glance around the apartment and says, “This place is too small for the three of you. I’ll have my realtor drop by, too. She’ll help you find a bigger space.”

As the door closes behind Augusta and Bernard, my attention swings toward Angie. Her brows are bunched, and her mouth is parted like she’s at a loss for words. I know Augusta’s departing remarks didn’t go over her head, and she will either eat me alive or swaddle me with thank-you kisses.

"What the fuck did she mean by three of you?” 

“Um…” I swallow. “Part of the deal was that Augusta helps you get Ana back.”

“Unfuckingbelievable, Miguel! Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“No…”

“You…” Angie points, then curls her finger back into her fist and blows out a furious breath. “You asshole! Gwen was going to help me, but no. You just have to put on your cape and be a savior. Fuck you, Miguel.”

“I did it because I love you.”

“No.” She holds up her hand. “I didn’t want Ana involved in any of this shit, and now she’s involved because you just had to go to that woman for help after I told you we don’t need her!”

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

Angie glares, her eyes full of rage-filled tears. “Of course you’re not.” 

“Why must you give me so much shit for protecting you the best way I know how? I'm sick of us having the same argument over and over again!”

"Good. Be sick of it. I am too, you selfish dick!"

"Well, I might be a selfish dick, but I'm a selfish dick who would do any-fucking-thing for you."

"Except listen to me." She wipes her tears away. “And you don't even care that I’m scared of where we’re headed."

"I do care."

"I know I took us down this road, but now you’re so far up the path I can’t see you anymore, and it’s my fault. I should have never used you for my revenge. I should have never done any of this.”

“Angie....” I cup her face with my hand. “Don’t blame yourself. I’m a big boy, and I made my choices. Now, I need you to trust me. This will be a good thing. We can live a good life with the money I'll be making.”

“I don't need money to live a good life. All I wanted was to have my freedom, and Ana too."

"Angie, please trust me. Don’t think about the things that make you scared. Think about bringing Ana home and being free from Jeremiah. Think about us picking out one of those fancy condos near the ballpark.”

“No. I don't want to. I hate that you got Ana involved with the Sisters. So, right now, I need some space.”

"Angie, please don't be mad." But she yanks her hand away when I reach for her.

"I'm not just mad, Miguel. I'm sad. You've become my safe space, but right now, this doesn't feel safe." She motions between us, then turns and heads for the bedroom.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

My chest aches as she retreats down the hallway and slams the bedroom door behind her. I fudged things up big time.

Yet I still don't regret my choice.

With time, Angie will see this was the only way to unfuck ourselves.

*
*
*

Hey friends! November is National Novel Writing Month, a.k.a NaNoWriMo or NaNo, where you write 50k words in one month, and I've been deep in it, so I've been lagging on an update, lol.

However, I still wanted to put something out there while I work like a little mouse on a wheel, writing a manuscript for a completely different idea/book. Sometimes I get an itch, and NaNo is a great time to word-vomit that idea right out of my system 😂

That said, I'm still working on this book. However, since it didn't shortlist for the Wattys, it's time to wrap things up. I had extended it because of the contest rules, but now I can refocus on a conclusion. I'm hoping to have it wrapped up before the end of the year so I can move on to book 2 in the series: Death, Shaken not Stirred 🍸