Chapter 20 Nolan
NOLAN
Kane is an ex-biker with more scars than clean skin.
If anyone can understand the complications that come with working for a man like Darrio Vargas, it’s him.
From what I know of him, he once had his own Darrio to contend with in his youth.
It’s how he got some of those scars of his.
So, even though I’m set to work this afternoon, when I show up at the shop and lay out the issue, he merely nods his head towards the open garage doors where Gio is waiting in his Firebird.
“Take care of your friend, kid. I’ll be here if you need anything.”
Relief is a lifted weight off my shoulders. There aren’t many men I respect as much as I do him and I hate having to ask him for this favor, but it’s necessary. I leave the garage with my steps stronger and a new plan forming in my head.
Gio’s fight with Darrio has sped things along, but the goal hasn’t changed.
I get into the passenger side of the vehicle, glancing over as Gio cranks the engine and waits for a car to pass us by before turning onto the street.
A pair of dark sunglasses covers his eyes but doesn’t hide the bruises on his forehead or coming down around the side of his face.
Then, there’s the hole in his side. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything serious.
The bandage job Lex had done was enough and so long as he keeps it clean and taken care of, it’ll be no more than a slight scar later in life.
The biggest issue now is our status within Darrio’s organization. I scrub a hand over my face and roll the window down as I flip up the console and start searching.
“What are you looking for?” Gio glances my way.
“Cigs,” I say. “I’m craving one.”
He doesn’t hesitate in pointing me towards the glove box. Arching a brow, I pop it open and find an unopened pack of cigarettes and a lighter waiting for me. “Trying to quit?” I ask, as I unwrap and slap the new pack against my palm a few times before opening it.
“Something like that,” he quips, lips curving down. “I don’t want to taste like an ashtray when I kiss Jules.”
Pausing with a cigarette halfway lifted to my lips, I curse. I contemplate just tossing the entire pack out the window before I can finish lighting up. In the end, I simply put the cig away and shove the packet back into the glove box with movements that are too sharp.
“I didn’t say that you had to stop,” G says, his lips no longer curved down, but twitching in amusement. In lieu of an answer, I flip him the bird, which actually earns an audible chuckle from him. The first since last night.
The sound is long gone by the time we pull up outside of the Vargas house. “You want to stay here?” I ask.
Gio doesn’t answer for a long moment and that, more than anything, tells me how fucked in the head he is.
Fucking Juliet had calmed him, but now, in the harsh light of day, it’s time to face the reality.
Gio doesn’t have parents anymore. He never had a father, but now… now he doesn’t have his mom either.
No matter how tough you are, how grown you are, how skilled or smart, nothing hurts more than that kind of rejection. Parents are supposed to love their children unconditionally. It’s biological—or so we’ve been told.
That kind of rejection would make anyone wonder what the fuck is wrong with them even if they were never the problem. Some people just aren’t meant to be parents.
I don’t ask the question again and I don’t pressure him to get out and get this shit over with. Ten minutes later, he shuts off the car and gets out. I follow, a silent shadow for what he’s about to do. What we’re both about to do.
Together, we make our way up the front steps, the cracked foundation of the concrete walkway at the base of the rickety entrance acting almost as a line to cross. “Don’t knock,” I say quietly. “There’s no point.”
He nods and turns the knob, finding the door unlocked.
We enter the house and the remains of what happened last night are obvious and all over the front room.
The broken ruins of the coffee table are in splinters across the floor, with the larger pieces collected in a pile against the wall.
There’s blood staining the couch and carpet.
The smell of beer, iron, and bleach is rich in the air.
I’m more surprised than not to find Darrio not laid out on the couch nursing whatever wounds Gio had given him. At least it makes our job easier. “Go on and get whatever else you need,” I tell him. “I’ll check out the rest of the house.”
Gio is silent, but he follows my commands, moving towards the hallway with stiff shoulders.
So, it goes. I case the small two-bedroom house.
There’s an open, obviously pilfered, first aid kit on the kitchen counter and bloodied towels hanging off one of the chairs at the table.
The door to the bathroom hangs open, but no sign of life.
The primary bedroom is empty. Even Camila, Gio’s mom, is gone.
Half an hour after our arrival, I check my phone.
The only messages I have from the last twelve hours are from the guys and Kane.
As I stare at the screen, a new one comes in.
A picture of Juliet dressed in all black with a waitressing apron wrapped around her hips as she stands at the familiar bar at The Dionysus Lounge.
LEX: She took the job back.
I’d expected as much, but it’s good to know a decision has been made. Whatever we do, it was never my intention to keep Juliet locked up. Now, however, I expect one of us will have to spend more time at Ma-Ri’s just to keep an eye on her. I wonder if Ma-Ri’s looking to hire any security.
The creak of a floorboard precedes Gio’s reentry to the living room. I look up, slipping my phone back into my pocket as I eye him. His shoulders are tight, but his face is expressionless as he hefts two bags—one plastic and obviously full of toiletries, the other an old camping backpack.
“That all?”
“This is all the shit I paid for,” he tells me. “I don’t want shit from him.”
I nod. I can’t blame him. “Where’s the house key?”
Gio tips his head in the direction of the hall. “I left it on the bed.”
“Then let’s get out of here.” Lex’s place is about to be real crowded.
Before the two of us make it to the door, the knob turns and it swings open.
I brace myself for a fight and when Darrio Vargas himself steps inside, face a fucking mess and favoring his left side, I debate on if we’re really about to get one.
For a moment, no one says a word. Gio and Darrio stare at each other, hatred gleaming in Darrio’s eyes and emptiness in Gio’s.
Darrio’s gaze flickers to the bags in Gio’s hands. “Stealing?” he growls.
“Nope.” Gio’s tone is flat. “I bought everything in these bags.”
Darrio sneers and before the tension can escalate, I step between the two of them, drawing his attention. “Go get in the car,” I order. Gio doesn’t move for a moment, but then, he seems to give in and circles the two of us, slipping out the front door and down the steps without another word.
“He’s out.” Darrio’s words are clear, concise, vile.
“I know.”
“Are you sticking with him?”
“Yes.” My answer is just as fast and just as clear. It’s always been my truth. We are a team—Lex, Gio, and me.
Darrio’s low chuckle is sinister. “After all I’ve done for you?” He shakes his head as if his disappointment is something any of us gives a shit about. “You could’ve been somebody, Nolan. He’ll drag you down.”
“No, he won’t.”
“If you’re sticking with him, then you and your other boy are both out too. You don’t get no protection from me anymore.”
“We never needed your protection.”
He arches a brow as he limps around me. I turn, not letting him face my back.
A man like Darrio Vargas can be untenable at the best of times, but when his pride is wounded—he’s unpredictable.
He moves slowly, like his muscles are contracting and resisting the action.
Gio had done a number on him and there’s a big white bandage taped over his nose, most likely where G had ended up breaking it.
“You say that now,” Darrio grunts as he lowers himself onto the couch. “But you’ll soon find that I can make your lives very uncomfortable—and the life of that slut you’re passing between ya.”
The gun anchored in a holster at the small of my back beneath my t-shirt is in my hand before he’s finished speaking. Darrio goes still, half hunched as if he was in the middle of getting comfortable.
“I don’t think you’ll need a reminder after this, but I suggest you don’t speak about any woman that way—least of all her.” My voice is all gravel.
Putting up with this asshole’s moods and orders for the last three years has been nothing short of hell.
The late-night phone calls. The early days of hazing from his lackeys.
The drug dealing. The extortion. The deals.
The blackmail. I won’t allow any of it to follow us when we leave Silverwood. I won’t allow him to follow us.
“Gonna kill me with that thing?” Darrio spits the question. “Like you killed your daddy?”
My grip loosens on the trigger and I smile. “No, Darrio. I didn’t kill my father like this.” I lower the gun back to my side. “But any time you want to find out how he died, you’re welcome to come to me. Otherwise, stay the fuck away from my family. This is your only warning.”
Darrio’s face scrunches up into an ugly mask of rage, but I’m done here.
I turn and leave through the front door before he can respond.
Tucking my gun back into its holster, I hear something hard hit the closed front door as I take the steps two at a time and jog across the brown yard to Gio’s Firebird.
He’s sitting in the driver’s side, waiting.
Slapping the roof of the car, I hop in. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I say, “and go see our girl.”