Lana stared at the TV through the glass surrounding her nurse's desk. The patients, mostly victims of dementia, were lined up in a half circle formation in front of the screen in the corner. None of them knew where they were, or what was going on around them.

The clients at Sunset Boulevards were completely restricted to either their bedrooms, the visitation room, or the day room, which is where they spent most of their time. It was a white, square room with a filthy, tile floor that had seen every substance known to man. There were game pieces and old crayons thrown about, and sometimes a random playing card would be found plastered to the wall with some unknown concoction holding it in place.

Lana usually just watched TV and filed random pieces of paperwork. She was supposed to sound the alarm for an emergency, but there were never any serious altercations. In fact, there was rarely any excitement at all.

It was late afternoon, and she was ready to get off work when the phone rang at her desk.

“Hello,” she yawned.

“Are you watching soap operas again? Do you really want to waste your life stuck on those things? They're not even that good.” It was Tia, one of the doctors.

“They're not that bad.” Lana blushed.

“You wanna help with a black bag?”

“Sure.” She hung up the phone and grabbed her keys and radio. Then she walked to the hospice ward, where the patients all had respirators and feeding tubes attached to their faces. Their hair was pure white, and their twisted, yellow toenails stuck out from their short, baby-blue blankets. Lana wished they could go with dignity, at home with their families saying their goodbyes. Many of these people were good and had seen amazing things, but their families abandoned them. Lana had seen it thousands of times. People would come in and talk about how they loved their mother or their uncle, but that they can't take care of them. Then they'd sign a piece of paper and leave them there.

The family might come once or twice. Some even kept up consistent visits for years, but they all eventually gave up and forgot about the loved one. It became too distressing for the families to see their loved ones decomposing in front of the TV. Eventually, the patients would stop recognizing their family, and they'd start acting erratically. During the later stages of Alzheimer’s, patients exhibit strange behaviors. Some revert to child-like states and other simply go blank and stop talking altogether. Sometimes they wander around aimlessly, babbling nonsense.

So their families would leave them behind and they'd die alone in a nursing home.

“Lana,” Tia crept up behind her.

“Jesus.”

“Come on.” Tia showed her to a black bag stuffed with a stiff corpse laying on a gurney in the corner of the room. Tia checked her chart. “Her name was Mary Esther Young.”

“How old was she?”

“94.” Tia closed the chart.

“Amazing. I wonder how long she'd been sitting in front of that TV,” Lana said.

They began rolling the gurney to the back wall.

“Does it get to you still, handling the dead bodies?” Tia asked when the gurney was facing the thick incinerator hatch.

“I don't know. You?”

“The first corpse I saw gave me a jolt, but that was it. Every other time after that, I learned to deal with it.”

“Do you still think about it sometimes though?” Lana opened the hatch and grabbed the woman by the feet. Tia grabbed her under her arms.

“A little bit.” The body made a thud when it fell to the bottom.

Lana went white and turned away. “I think I'm gonna quit.”

“Do it then. If you can't handle it, it's not right for you. You'll internalize everything.”

“It's not that easy.”

“Aww,” she patted Lana on the back. “Come on, you'll find something. It's not worth risking your sanity over.”

“You're right, but I'm going to give it some thought.”

“Listen,” Tia moved in front of her to face her, “I watch you react like this every time you see a body. You can't take it, and that's okay, but I won't stop you if you want to wait it out.”

“All right.”

“Go home and take a nap. Have the day off tomorrow. Then come in the next day refreshed. I won't fire you. I like you, but I am going to encourage you to find another line of work.”

“Okay,” Lana said. She was tired. Her eyes were droopy and she was struggling to hold up her body. “Thank you,” she said before she walked out to her car.

Lana did wonder about what she was doing working at the nursing home. Every day was torture. She was stuck watching TV sixteen hours a day for twelve dollars an hour. Then there were the corpses. At first, she didn't mind them so much. The shock was always there, but she was able to get past it. Then she kept thinking about how terrible it would be to die like that and the bodies started getting to her.

What would happen to her if she spent her whole life watching TV at Sunset Boulevards? She wouldn't have a family or people to take care of her. She'd end up alone, staring into space for years.

But what was she supposed to do? She peeled out onto the highway. The desert stretched for miles all around. In that part of Arizona, there was nothing for hours: just the rocky ground with dying, yellow grass peeking out from the cracks. There were two places to work: the grocery store and Sunset Boulevards, and the grocery store didn't pay enough to live off of. Everyone that worked there lived off either social security or their parents.

It didn't matter anyways. She couldn't quit. She had Jim to take care of. The grocery store wouldn't take him, so he was all out of options for money. If she wanted to have a real career, she would have to move, and she didn't have enough money for all the household expenses.

She had to buy food for two people, cigarettes, and beer. Those were just the basics, and they left her with nothing. They were barely surviving. Moving would cost upwards of three thousand dollars, and there was no way she was going to have that kind of money while she was trying to support herself and one other person.

Lana felt like she should've been grateful. She had a place to go and food in her fridge. Jim was a good man. At least he never hit her. There were times when it got close, but not once did he do it. If he did, she'd be stuck there with him, yelling at her and cussing with a bottle in his hand. That was her worst fear.

She stopped at the store and picked up some spaghetti using the change in her car's ashtray, then she drove back to the trailer. They had a single-wide sitting on the edge of the highway with an old, dead garden in front where she kept trying to grow different vegetables and flowers.

She parked her car to the side of the trailer and walked in. When she opened the door, she knocked over a bottle of malt liquor that had been sitting next to the bright-orange couch and cursed. “Jim!” She walked farther into the living room, doing her best to wade through the mess of old beer cans and bottles. “Jim! You can't be doing this anymore. You gotta clean this crap up.” She wanted to bash his face in, leaving things the way he did.

He was never going to stop. They'd been living like that for a decade. Lana kicked a green bottle across the hall and it landed in her room at the foot of the bed. “Jim! Where are you?”

He was there. His old, yellow pickup was outside. “Jim!” She stumbled into the hall, unable to believe the mess she was looking at. TV dinners were sitting in a pile on one side of the couch and there were ancient clothes strewn across the hallway.

The only reason Lana stayed with Jim was because without her, he'd end up mummified in the desert with a forty-ounce bottle fused to his fingers. The man would never survive on his own, not without a steady flow of beer and cigarettes.

“Jim, you in there?” She peeked her head into the bedroom where the clothes that covered the floor were piled higher than the bed.

“Jim!”

Lana turned around to open the bathroom door and jumped back. He was so pale he was almost blue and his lips were losing color fast. The most frightening thing was the peaceful smile stamped on his fat face. Oh, he enjoyed it. She kicked him in the stomach. “Fucker!”

The needle fell out of his arm and crashed to the floor along with the spoon covered in black-amber heroin residue.

“I fucking hate you, you piece of shit. You can't do this to me.” She fell to the ground and started pounding him over and over again while she wailed at the top of her lungs, going until she was drained of all of her energy.

He didn't mind dying; he wanted to die. You don't shoot up heroin unless you've completely given up. Death was his release from the mess their life had become. Well, she couldn't let that happen. She wanted him to live so he could suffer and eventually end up drying out in the middle of the desert, sick and homeless, the way he deserved. He didn't get to go with a smile on his face.

She sat up, completely numb, and stared down at him. His stomach had grown and his eyes were ringed with pink and black circles, but he was still her dark god, a kind of poison that she couldn't escape. If she did this, she couldn't give into him, because the second she did, she'd lose the strength she would need to walk out the door and drive away. He knew what to say to make her stay. He always did.

She crouched down and swiped away a strand of black, sweaty hair away from his eyes. She still loved him, and she always would. He was her first and only, the boy she'd laid down with in the dry riverbed while they made love and planned their life out. He'd just given up.

She hated him for killing all of this, the life they were supposed to have together, and the family. They were supposed to move to Phoenix and buy a cookie-cutter house so he could become a software designer and she could work in a group home until they had their children. But he couldn't do it. He killed their dreams, and for that he had to suffer.

“You're gonna fucking live.” She pulled out her phone.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

“Piece of shit boyfriend overdosed.”

“Hold for the sheriff's office.”

“Sheriff's office, what is your emergency?”

“My boyfriend overdosed on heroin while I was at work.” Jim was smiling up at her, taunting her. He just wanted to get high and he didn't care what it did to her or their life.

“How does he look?”

“His lips are going blue,” she said. Her voice was cold with fury.

“Ma'am,” the officer said. “I need you to begin CPR. Go ahead and tilt his head back.”

“I'm a nurse; I know what I'm doing. Just send somebody to the trailer near the 440 mile marker. I'm going to concentrate on him now. If he'd dead, he's dead.” She hung up and fell to her knees. Then she punched him square in the face. “Get up!”

About thirty percent of overdose victims will snap out of it if you beat them hard enough.

He didn't move. She used two hands to compress his chest as hard as she could, hoping to break his ribs in the process. “You don't get to die.” She slammed him in the chest over and over, tears flying down her face.

She checked for a pulse. His heart was beating, but his pulse was weak. She ducked down and pressed her cheek against his greasy nose; he wasn't breathing. She tilted his head to the side and squeezed his jaw open. Then she slammed him in the back of the head as hard as she could to remove the layer of mucus that had built up in the back of his throat. A yellow glob smacked onto the tile floor.

She hadn't kissed him in over two years, and even then it was uncomfortable. She told herself this wasn't a kiss, but it was, and it was one of the most passionate kisses she'd ever given him because she needed him to live. It wasn't just because she wanted him to suffer, but also because she loved him.

She slammed her lips against his and breathed life into him, over and over again, then she slammed into his chest, wailing and begging. “You've got to live. You've got to live. I love you.” She slammed him in the chest. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” He was going to die. “I love you.”

The medics had to drag her away and out of the house. She wrenched away from them as soon as they got her outside the front door. “Are you giving him Narcan?” she asked the medic.

“Ma'am, just calm down.”

“You need to tell me what is going on,” she demanded.

She could barely see the medic's cold face with the way his head blocked the sun.

“What is going on!?” She rushed at him, and he dodged her. She fell to the ground and looked up as they carried Jim out of the trailer on a yellow gurney. He was alive with his eyes locked on her, holding his stomach. He would be cramping and vomiting with a headache a thousand times worse than any hangover. He was going to live—and he was going to suffer. That's what mattered.

The police grilled her, searched the house and accused her of being a junkie. She screamed at them and they eventually left. Then she started grabbing her things.

Most everything was trash. All her old clothes were stained and wrinkled. Some stank like old smoke. There was nothing in that house that mattered. She tried. She put up a cottage painting in the living room and bought fine dishes with roses on the rims. It was supposed to be their first love nest. It didn't matter that he smoked a little bit of weed and went out with friends, but it did matter when he started bringing home cocaine and women and he began spending all his time on the couch. The drugs started drifting in shortly after. The bong on the coffee table turned into a pile of heroin-stained aluminum foil and broken pieces of glass pipes. Then their love nest became her personal hell and she found herself living with a monster.

There was one last thing to do. He was never really going to be gone. She'd see his glazed-over eyes staring at her from the couch when she walked home from work, and smell the liquor pouring out of his mouth. The sweat-and-filth-stained air would always be stuck inside her nose, and every time she saw a cigarette sitting in a puddle, she'd think of the perpetually swollen mixtures of alcohol, bile, and cigarettes sitting in cups and bottles strewn all around the house.

If she wanted to get rid of him, she'd have to destroy everything he was—his essence—and find some closure so that she could tell herself that he was really gone.

Lana took a shovel from the decomposing shed attached to the side of the trailer and brushed the cobwebs and dust clumps off it. Then she walked into the living room and used it to throw out his old comforter, a filthy piece of tattered rags covered in every body fluid and disease known to man. It hit the dirt outside with a soft flutter. Then she went on to the beer bottles, his clothes, and all of his old records. She lined the entire trailer with everything he owned. Then she doused his things with gas and threw a lit match onto it.

As Lana drove away, unperturbed by the fact that she had just given everything up, she told herself over and over again that she was free, but even her closure ritual couldn't give her the relief she needed. Somehow, he'd find a way to creep back in. A part of her died in that trailer, and she was never going to leave.

Lana had never traveled farther west than the Sonoran Desert, a relatively green patch of dirt with dry river beds and creosote bushes sitting beneath gray mountains. She thought it was terrible. It got well over a hundred in the summer, and it never snowed. But the farther west she traveled, the worse it got. The first six hours, the heat increased until it was unbearable. She had to keep a cup of water next to her at all times. If she didn't take a drink every few minutes, her throat would go dry; longer than that and she'd start to feel faint.

Then, after about ten hours, the desert turned into nothing but mounds of yellow sand dunes, stretching for miles and miles. The heat from the sun reflected off them, turning her car into an oven that slowly started to bake her skin.

She was never leaving the desert. Even the hills past the California border were covered in boulders with tiny clumps of yellow grass sticking out from in between them, and just a few hours away from one of the largest bodies of water, she was still stuck baking in the heat. That's how it always seemed.

When she finally got her nursing license, they were surviving on ramen and fast food wages. She was so excited. She thought that she could finally have a good place, nice things, and a decent car, but her money kept disappearing. Life threw her back down onto the pavement and she was stuck at rock bottom, wading in dirty clothes and empty forty-ounce bottles.

San Diego was going to be just as much of a disappointment. All she wanted was a chance to walk a few blocks from her house so she could look out at the water. She'd only seen the ocean once when she was a little girl. Her mother saved up a few hundred dollars from waiting tables and took her on a day trip. Lana remembered how she had to drive the whole way there and back without sleeping just so she could get back to work on time.

Lana didn't want to live that way. She wanted to be comfortable, not tied to a terrible job with no savings, and no hope for the future.

There was a series of hills, sharp twists and turns through rocky terrain that led farther upward until she reached the top and she could see San Diego laying out before her. She could smell the water. It was like foam and seaweed drying out in the sun. When she saw the water, she thought she was staring at the end of the world. She'd never seen anything so big in her entire life.

She was dusty, sweaty, and unshowered with scraggly, sandy-brown hair flaring out on all ends. There was no way she would ever be a part of that world. She was a desert rat and had no place in the water.

Lana stopped at a Motel 7 sitting just outside town with a chain-link fence and a line of semis surrounding it. She parked her car where she could see it in front of the office and checked back when she opened the door. This was the kind of place where tweakers and crackheads roamed, breaking into cars and running off with everything they could find. She didn't want to let her car out of her sight. The desk clerk was a young, blond man with dreads and a pipe sitting next to him. He nodded his head in acknowledgment when she walked in.

“You looking for a room?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“60 a night. I need a credit card.”

She pulled out her prepaid card and slapped it on the desk. He stuck it under a piece of receipt tape and rolled a pen over it then handed it back to her with the keys.

“Just keep it cool.” He picked up his pipe and smoked himself further into oblivion when she walked out. She couldn't help but think of Jim wasting away on the couch with a pipe in his hand. It was sick.

Lana walked back out to her car, and leaned against the door, staring out at the long row of rooms. Hers was at the end, which meant that she would have to walk all that way. She didn't think she could do it. Her legs were ready to give out, and her hands were raw from being baked in the sun.

Lana got back in the car, backed up into the space near her room, and got out with her keys in hand. Just as she was about to open the door, she realized that she couldn't just leave her things in her car; they'd get stolen as soon as she walked inside.

“Ugh!” Her head collapsed onto the door, and she took a moment to catch her breath. Then she walked back and opened the back so she could pull out all the trash bags holding her things. Once she was certain that she had taken everything out, including the burger wrappers, she threw herself onto the bed and nearly died of exhaustion.

She checked the clock when she woke up. It was 5:30 in the morning, the worst possible time, but she needed to find work or she wasn't going to survive. Lana was going to get a job that day.

She scrubbed the desert dust off her body until her skin was raw. Then she pulled out the phone book and called every nursing agency and hospital in the city. Many of them needed help, but quite a few had lengthy interview processes that she couldn't afford. She'd only have enough money to survive for three weeks at the motel; that meant she had no time for error.

Three places told her to come in. One was a nursing home. She refused. Then there was a hospice. She regretted even calling them. Then there was a small clinic near the beach on the southeast side called Miller House. They said they were constantly busy and they needed somebody the next day. She knew they would hire her, so she tied her hair back and put on the best clothes she had that weren't stained.

Miller House was a standalone, stucco building sitting in the middle of a field near the sea cliffs. The office was dingy. The receptionist was busy fielding off the rest of the staff and the frantic patients in back—just what Lana expected. They had the hiring paperwork ready when she walked in and completed the process without asking too many questions. They were obviously desperate for somebody. The doctor that oversaw the whole thing was pale and sweaty; he had been running around helping people all day.

Lana tried to be optimistic. The pay was three times what she made at Sunset Boulevards, and the work would keep her busy, but nothing seemed real. She was still stuck at home. She didn't know what she was doing there in San Diego or what was going to happen. She was confident that she could survive, but she didn't feel like there was a future so long as she was mentally stuck in the trailer.

After some negotiation with payroll and a quick sit down with a doctor, the clinic agreed to give her the first check in a week with a small advance if she came in every day on time until then. That meant that she would have enough to get a cheap place.

California had a different currency system altogether. Her trailer was four hundred a month but a one-bedroom apartment in San Diego was $1,500not including utilities. If she was making the rate the clinic was giving her but was back in Arizona, she could've had a nice house and a new car. In California, their pay was barely enough to get by.

The receptionist looked like she was going to collapse when Lana walked in. “They need you in the back right away.” She pointed at a box of gloves and hand sanitizer next to the automatic sliding door.

“What is it?”

“Gunshot.”

“Shouldn't they be in the ER?”

“It's always packed.” She opened the doors with a button under the desk and Lana ran into the main room, which was filled with dozens of patient beds surrounded by sliding curtains.

“Move. I need this blood stopped right away,” a doctor in the back of the room called. He was treating a beast of a man on a gurney. Lana pressed down hard on his shoulder and locked eyes with him while they took out the bullet.

His screams drowned out everything. Then the clink of the lead bullet hitting the bottom of a metal basin brought Lana back to reality.

“Tramadol,” the doctor barked and motioned towards a closet on the other side of the room. Lana pulled out a vial and syringe and filled it up. It occurred to her as she shot the man up that she wasn't supposed to be doing any of this. She was just an LPN; her job didn't include bullet wound treatment. She knew how to handle everything the doctor was doing, from stitching up the patient to monitoring his blood flow, but she wasn't supposed to be doing it. Even stopping the blood and administering painkillers was beyond her capacity. She needed certifications, fingerprint clearances, stuff she simply didn't have. This wasn't legal.

When the painkiller kicked in, the man fell limp and passed out, unconscious.

“Am I going to be doing this all the time?”

“This is your job.” The doctor took off his gloves and started sanitizing his hands.

“I'm not certified for any of this.”

“Does it look like I care?”

It didn't.

“This is what we do,” he said. “If you can handle it, it's easy. Don't ask questions. We're here to save people's lives, not get into the patient's business. Do you understand me?” He was telling her to keep her mouth shut and not to go to the authorities. That might be a problem.

“Yes,” she answered. She wanted the job. It'd be some action for a change. She never did anything at Sunset Boulevards.

“Can you take out a bullet?” the doctor asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. Come to me if there's a life-threatening situation. I'm Dr. Matthews.” He walked away, leaving Lana breathless and aching for answers, but she wasn't going to get any. She was too busy. The doctor whisked a patient to the back room, presumably for surgery, while she ran around attending to the other patients.

All the patients were men. There were a lot of Natives and Mexicans with tattoos covering their bodies. Many had three, pale-blue dots meaning, 'Mi vida loca,' my crazy life in Spanish. They put them under their eyes and the place between their thumb and forefinger. There was lots of old English and cursive, some back murals, mostly of the Virgin Mary. These tattoos all had two things in common: they were gang affiliated and they were all made up of the characteristic blue-black ink Lana had seen on prison tattoos.

They were treating thugs, and not just little boys running around in baggy clothes. These were career criminals who'd been to prison. They'd been shot at before. Many of them had old knife and bullet wound scars, and most had the telltale facial features of drug use.

Lana wore a cold mask most of the day. She kept it positioned so nobody could see her features. She didn't know what was going on at the clinic, and she didn't know whether or not it was safe, so she tried to keep anyone from seeing her face. It didn't seem to make much difference. The patients were brought in screaming and babbling; they weren't looking at her face.

She learned how to handle most wounds, aside from the ones that involved major organs. At first, it was daunting, but there was a simple process to it. About halfway through her shift, she had a rhythm. By that time, things quieted down and she had a chance to take a seat. Dr. Matthews walked in while she was sitting in the break room.

“Can you do this?” He sharpened his eyes towards her.

“Yes.”

“Can you agree to never say a word about anything you see here?”

“Why?” She stood up to meet him. “I have to know what I'm getting into. Is this safe? Well-guarded? What are you doing?”

“When you're here,” he stepped towards the door, “you will not ask questions about anything. Your safety is never guaranteed, but I've been here fifteen years, and I've never been shot. That's all you get.”

“It's just....”

“Either you can or you can't handle this job, and I need to know now—no bullshit. Now can you accept this position?”

“Of course I can. We're saving lives, but this is dangerous.”

“It's not dangerous.”

She was being told that she was relatively safe and that she shouldn't ask questions. She had already treated dozens of gunshot wounds with no explanation, and that was the only information she was going to get. It was enough to keep her there, but not enough to satisfy her.

She had a lot of questions. The only patients there were thugs. The receptionist told everyone who called that they were booked. If there were men physically guarding the building, they weren't at the clinic. It was in the middle of a parking lot, and she saw most every room in the place, but the clinic was well watched. They had a camera setup that covered every inch. There were no blind spots. The cameras saw everything, and there were motion sensors outside the entrances.

Things could still happen. Men could come in with guns and kill people before security got there. She was starting to feel vulnerable.

Lana left the break room and saw a man get wheeled in with a bullet wound on his upper arm. Unlike most of the patients, he wasn't screaming, or even strained. Instead, he was holding his arm like he'd gotten a cut and needed a Band-Aid. His rough, scraggly face was angled by a long nose. He reminded her of depictions of ancient Vikings.

The floor was mostly filled with sleeping patients, so she had to help him. The doctor handed his file to her while he was treating another patient. “He's quick. I need the bed. Hurry, and don't stare.”

Why would Lana stare?

“Hurry up.” The patient's face came out from behind the curtain.

“Fine.” Lana walked in without looking at him and turned to pull some gauze out of the cupboard. When she closed the door, he was staring at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She turned back to him and moved her eyes down his arm, to where the wound was. He might not have even needed a doctor. “Do you know what you're doing?” He held out his arm so she could work on it.

“I've treated 36 patients today.”

“No. Not that,” he said. When he tilted his head up to look at her, his Nordic features made her shiver.

“What then?”

“You know what I'm talking about. Are you okay to work here? You're new, and we have to screen all the girls.” The way he looked up at her with playful eyes told her this man had authority.

“I've got it covered.” Lana stitched him up.

“Most people can't do this. I'm impressed that a girl like you can stomach it.”

“Girl like me?” She stepped back and put her hand on her hip.

“A girl that's petite and quiet. You look more like a librarian.”

“Fuck you.”

He chuckled, and let his puppy-dog eyes rest on her tits. She scoffed and grabbed a jacket from the wall so she could cover herself up. It wasn't a violation so much as the fact that she couldn't help but feel naked when she was around him.

“Aw, come on,” he said when she walked back into his patient area. “You look better the other way.”

“Do you want painkillers?” She swabbed him with rubbing alcohol.

“No.”

She was trying to threaten him. She didn't think he'd walk out without at least numbing the wound a little. That was insane and possibly dangerous. “You're really gonna leave without a shot?”

“Yeah.” He braced his thick arms against the exam table when he jumped off. “Let me repay you for this.”

“No.”

“You can't do this without letting me thank you.” It was adorable watching him sway back and forth on his feet.

“No.” She shook her head. There was no way she was going anywhere with him.

“You're new to San Diego, so you've probably never been to a fresh catch seafood place. They catch it straight out of the ocean and put it on your plate. There is nothing like it.”

“Are you trying to bribe me with food?” Lana questioned.

“I'm just trying to figure out where we're going tonight.” He was rough but articulate, and his blond hair shifted around when he talked.

“Why do you want me to go with you so badly?” Lana challenged him.

“Because you're tough.”

She tapped her foot and stared down at the tile. “I'm not having sex with you. We are not going on a date, but I do want some of that seafood.”

“Cool.” He pulled out his phone. “What's your number, Lana?”

“Wait.” She stepped back into the curtain. “How do you know my name?”

“Like I told you we keep tabs on the girls here.”

“You did an investigation on me?”

“What?” He sounded surprised. “No. My father and his friend own this place. We do background checks and keep a file on all the employees. I checked yours out yesterday. I check out all the nurses.”

“I'll bet you do.”

He leaned against the examination table, just a few feet from where she was standing in front of the divider curtain. “Are you coming with me tonight?”

“I don't even know your name.”

“Look it up in my file.” He pointed to the bright-yellow folder that was hanging above his bed.

“Fine.” She wrote down her number and gave it to him. Then when he left, she pulled out the folder; his name was Tony Carter.

Lana was sitting on the motel bed wearing a white shirt and black capris, trying to figure out whether or not she wanted to get in the car and leave San Diego. This place was worse than Arizona. She didn't mind the environment or the prices. She could even withstand the work she was doing at the clinic—if it was legal, but it wasn't.

Bullet wounds are not meant to be treated without informing the police. They check them to match up the victims to crimes. They take the bullet in for analysis and run it.

What the clinic was doing was highly illegal, and Tony had something to do with it. These guys were coming in because of drugs and gang violence. It was the only explanation. Why were they getting shot?

Tony was going to pick her up in an hour and she was frantic.

What was she doing? She left Jim stranded and homeless. Now she was going on a date. They decided that it wasn't a date, but it was a date. Tony was going to be dressed up, Mr. Slick, driving a nice car and she was going to walk out in rags.

Lana didn't care about Jim. There were times when he'd openly cheat on her, so she wasn't worried about betraying him. She was more worried about the fact that Tony was going to find her there, living out of a motel on the side of the highway. He was going to have questions about why she was there, and why she didn't have a place to stay. She wouldn't be able to explain any of it, and it was going to end up leaving her humiliated.

But she figured he'd probably let her come along for the food. She perked up, did her face and was just adding some perfume when he knocked on the door.

“Hi,” she barely cracked the door.

“You ready?

“Yeah, one second.” She eased out of the room so he couldn't see inside and walked to his black convertible. She had no idea what kind of car it was, but it looked like a show model.

After she got in, he braced against the door and hopped inside with a crash. He turned her way. “It's not a date.”

“I know it's not a date. God, just drive.” She stared up the street.

“No,” he responded playfully.

“What do you mean no?” Lana asked.

“I said no. I'm not going to drive, not until you promise that this is not a date.” For a second, she thought he was serious.

“I promise,” she said. “It's not a date.”

He threw the car out of the lot and slammed on the gas, sending them careening downhill towards a sharp twist in the road. They were about to crash into the boulder-faced hillside.

“Ah! Tony!” She grabbed his arm. “What are you doing!? You're going to kill us.”

Just a few seconds and the car would crash.

“It's okay.” The car slowed and hugged the road. Then it took the twist without compromising too much speed.

Lana looked at Tony, who was staring down at her. Then she jumped back. “You did that on purpose.”

“I did not.” They turned onto a straightaway that ran parallel to the coast, where a mist was rolling in over the water.

“How fast are you going?”

“80.”

“Jesus, are you trying to kill us?”

He turned to her with a smirk. “Look at the pretty water and go with it.”

Her cheeks went red. “Where are we going?”

“To eat seafood.”

That's all she was going to get out of him. So she held on tight while they snaked up the cliffs where the slightest wrong turn could send them flying down into the water hundreds of feet below. He sped through like it was nothing.

Eventually, the land fell once more and she was staring at a large building, lit up and sitting near the beach. Then it disappeared when they descended and stopped at a security gate.

“Why aren't we at a restaurant?”

“I said a fresh catch seafood place. I didn't say a restaurant. The best fresh seafood comes from my waters. The best place to eat it is in my estate.”

“Your estate?” She nearly jumped back.

“What? Money doesn't matter, does it?”

“It does when you're not sure where it comes from.”

He opened the window and had them buzzed in. They drove through a hedge-lined, gravel path. On either side of the grass field in front of the house, there were Greek fountains surrounded by rings of purple marigolds. They pulled to the head of a wraparound driveway and stopped in front of the entrance to the courtyard that sat in the center of the house. The building was made of thick, white stucco with wooden beams sticking out of the ceiling and an aged, red-tile roof.

“You rented this place out for the night,” Lana said when they stopped.

“Look at me.” He snatched her hand up and locked eyes with her. “I didn't rent this place out. This is my home. It's a renovated, 18^th century Spanish estate.” She looked up the walls, and at the wood beams. The roof confirmed his claim. The tile had broken away in large segments.

“You're telling the truth, aren't you?”

“Yes. Come on.”

Some unknown servant had already laid out a black carpet for them when they got out of the car. “The carpet's too much, Tony.”

“It was just something special. You know, since I'm having company. It's no big deal, really: more of a novelty.”

“It is kind of nice not having to get my shoes dirty.” Lana was wearing absorbent, black flats, and the gravel was soaking wet below the rug.

“That's why people started making these things. The old, rich people in Europe didn't want to step down from their carriages into the mud, so they had somebody go everywhere with them to hold a carpet.”

“Is that true?” Lana asked as they walked into the courtyard.

“I don't know,” he shrugged. “Just what I heard.”

“You don't belong in a place like this.” She sat down on a bench below an ash tree in the center of the courtyard.

“Where do I belong?” He was standing in front of her with his back to the moon.

Lana couldn't see his face, just his lumberjack silhouette. “In a shipyard or an oil rig, someplace rough.”

“This place is rough,” he said seriously. “Keep your head down.”

“I will, but you're not the tough guy I thought you were, Tony. Look at all this.”

“I'm worse.”

“No, you're refined. You've got this amazing house, fishermen, and waterfalls pouring down the cliffs onto your beach. Come on. You're not a thug.”

“Thugs aren't dangerous. I'm dangerous. I want you to know that.”

“I don't give a shit. This isn't a date.”

“Yes, it is.” He pulled her up off the bench by the collar and kissed her. She didn't even know it was happening till she started burning up all over. Then he pulled back and she wanted to slap him. He wasn't supposed to do that. She was supposed to be staying away from men, especially men like him. Now Lana was caught up in Tony, and she was going to have to give him what he wanted.

He was dangerous.

He let go of her collar and hooked his arm in hers. “Come on.” They walked through the main entrance, a ceramic-tiled room with a simple, Spanish chandelier hanging down from the ceiling. In the corners, there were little tables with lavish flower arrangements.

“This is tacky.” She turned to him with a mock frown.

“It costs more than the clinic. So shut up and like it.”

They walked through a pair of metal, double doors into a modern, stainless-steel kitchen. “Why are we in the kitchen?”

“I'm going to cook for you.” He walked to the cupboard and pulled out a sauté pan. Then he drizzled it with olive and set it on to heat. Once the oil was hot enough, he added minced garlic.

“You're not going to impress me.” Lana sat down on a stool near the counter in the middle of the room.

“I'm not trying to impress you. I just hate chefs.” He pulled out his cell phone and tapped away. Then he started adding vegetables to the sauté pan. “I want my food cooked with love. When somebody else makes it, all their crap gets in the mix.”

“I've never thought of that before.”

The door opened and a young man walked in holding something in butcher paper. He passed it to Tony and walked out.

“What is that?”

“Fresh-caught shelled shrimp.” He washed the shrimp and poured it into the pan then began adding a slurry of herbs and spices. He filled the kitchen with the smell of sea salt.

“Oh, that smells good.”

He started to make a pasta dish with linguine and a light sauce drizzled over the shrimp.

“I'll bet this is the only thing you know how to make.”

“No.” He turned back to her. “You tell me something and I can make it.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He pulled out a bottle of wine and poured it into two glasses. Then he passed one of the glasses to her.

She took a sip and swirled the wine around in her glass.

“No pressure. I know we kissed and all, and I like you, but I don't have any expectations.”

“Don't. My life's a mess.” She meant it. This wasn't a date.

“You live in a motel?”

Lana took a sip of her wine. “I do. I left somebody in Arizona. Just got here.” She wasn't going to give him any details.

“Ah. Well, it's better here, trust me. You'll like San Diego.”

He turned around and played around with the food. Then he started pulling plates out of the cupboard.

He grabbed the food and took her out to a covered veranda facing the water.

“It's amazing out here.” He already had a table setup outside for them.

“Hey, this life is not fun.” He sat down with her. “You don't want to be rich. Trust me. I've got bankers, investors, and lawyers trying to contact me all day every day. It's terrible.” He took a bite of the pasta.

“None of this matters, you know. I just came for the seafood.”

“Nah.”

“No. I really did. I just left my ex in Arizona. Now I'm living in a motel. You don't want to deal with me.”

“You're just a little shaken up is all. You're fine.” They drank their wine and ate their food quietly. Then when they were done, Tony popped open another bottle of red wine and they took their drinks out to the sand.

“I don't know if I can trust you.” Lana was laying down in the sand with her head sitting in Tony's lap. “I mean what do you want?”

“If I didn't want you, you wouldn't be here. I'll stick around if you want me to.”

“I want you to. This is nice.” She let him hold her on the beach before they went inside. Lana wasn't sure how she could possibly get away from Tony. He was everything she didn't need but wanted more than anything else.

Lana turned over and opened her eyes so she could watch the morning tide come in through the window near the guest room bed. The sun slammed her in the face, forcing her back. They’d both had too much to drink.

When she felt like she had enough strength, she got up and found a pair of slippers for her to wear at the foot of the bed. Tony was very respectful. He didn't come onto her. Instead, he gave her a room to sleep in.

She walked through the hall and out into a small dining room where Tony was moving around the kitchen with his shirt off, wearing an apron. He was stirring something on the stove when she walked in. “What's going on?” she asked drowsily.

“I'm making breakfast.”

“Sounds amazing.” She sat down on a stool at the kitchen bar.

“Here.” He reached into the fridge and pulled out a cup of blood-red liquid.

“What is that?” She stared at it like it was raw, blended cow meat.

“You had a lot to drink last night so I made you a virgin Bloody Mary. Keeps the hangover at bay.”

“Really?” She picked up the drink and swirled it around. The smell of the tomato juice made her want to vomit.

“Trust me. It works.” Tony threw some chopped vegetables into a frying pan. He looked back at Lana, who was resting her head on the counter, staring at the cup. “Come on. Take it.”

She picked it up, closed her eyes, and took it in one gulp. The salty, tangy flavor stuck in her throat and threatened to come back up. But once the drink hit her stomach, she woke up and the pain in her head went away. “That's terrible.” She set the glass down with a sour face.

“But it works.” He threw some eggs into the frying pan and ducked down to check something in the oven.

“What are you making?” The room smelled like charred meat.

“Couple different things.” He pulled a glass of orange juice out of the fridge and handed it to Lana.

“Come, sit down.” She noticed there were fruit bowls sitting on the table when he began setting down platters of food beside them. There was everything from eggs to pancakes—even different syrups. She had a pancake with strawberries and blueberries.

“This is amazing. So, this is a separate living space from the rest of the house?” she asked.

“I don't live in the whole estate. Many of the rooms don't have ventilation or air conditioning. This is my house.” They were in a cottage attached to the back of the main house. It was made of modern, fabricated materials—plaster, glass windows, and wood, but it still had the old, red-tile roof.

“I can't imagine living the way you do. How did you become so rich, Tony?” She took a bite of her strawberry.

“I'm an heir. It's a family fortune, but I'm the firstborn.” He took a bite of egg.

“In your family, the firstborn gets the largest share of the fortune.” She laughed and took a drink of her juice. “That is the most archaic thing I've ever heard.”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I know, but it's how things are done.”

“Old, old money.” She cut a piece of her pancake off and let it dangle on her fork in her hand. “That's it, right?”

“Yeah. Old money.” He took a bite off the head of a sausage. “I don't like questions, you know. I'm a quiet guy.”

“I don't get it.”

“So. I don't owe you an explanation; not yet at least.”

“I want to know what I'm getting myself into. That clinic....”

“Nah.” He picked his plate up and brought it into the kitchen. “This conversation is over.”

“No.”

“Whatever.” He shook his head and rinsed off his plate. Then he walked back to the table and leaned in close to her. “Are we okay?” He'd gone from abrasive to irresistible.

“Yeah.”

He pecked her on the cheek. “You're safe. You don't have to worry about anything else right now.”

“I like it here.” She looked around. “I've always wanted a little beach house at the top of a cliff.”

“I have one,” he beamed.

“You do, don't you.”

'“It has a stretch patio facing the cliffs on the second floor. It's amazing.”

“Oh, god, I have to see that.”

“You do,” he affirmed.

“But I have to get back. There are things I have to do in the city.”

“A few more hours?”

“No. It's already late. I'll give you a call.” She finished her food and got up. He grabbed his car keys and they left.

While driving into the city, Lana felt like the dream was ending and it was time to get back to reality. Girls like her didn't just get picked up by rich men, and he wasn't just any rich man. He was involved in something sinister, and she didn't want any part in it. Still, she wasn't sure she could resist him.

She couldn't.

He dropped her off with a kiss and lingered just a little bit longer with his hands wrapped around her. She had absolutely no choice in the matter; she was his and there was no way she was going to escape.

Lana rested the whole day, trying to collect her thoughts. She was still in crisis after Jim nearly died, and now she was running into a whirlwind with a man that may or may not get her killed. She couldn't come to a conclusion about what to do about Tony until the next day when she was driving to the clinic.

She was going to end her affair with Tony and try to avoid him so she could build a life for herself in San Diego. That thought was almost comforting while she moved through her day, but it also left her feeling a little unsettled. She had just spent an amazing evening in a beautiful house with a man that she couldn't stop thinking about. Lana simply couldn't walk away from that.

He was a good man too. He knew how to cook and how to dress. Any other time in her life, she would've melted at his feet. Why did she have to meet him now, when she was losing her mind, and reeling from her escape from hell?

Dr. Matthews left Lana to close the clinic that evening. It looked almost benign, with beige tile and a modern, floral painting hanging on the wall. But when Lana looked down at the tile, she noticed blood spray, and her ears were still ringing from the men howling in pain. She thought of all the men that had died there and left shivering.

Tony was leaning against a sleek, navy-blue motorcycle when she turned around after locking the doors.

“I'm not getting on that thing. I'll wriggle around and throw it to the ground.”

“No, you won't. Trust me.” He patted the shotgun seat. “It's easy. I promise.”

“You're going to drive 80 miles an hour.”

“No,” he said defensively. “I'll only go 60.”

“Oh, god.” She was trembling. “And you better slow down for the turns.”

He held his hands up. “I swear. Nice and easy.”

“I'm gonna die.” Lana stopped in front of the bike.

“Why do people ride these things?”

“You really don't know?”

“No. It's not safe.”

“Get on. I promise you won't die.”

Lana had a little trouble lifting her legs over the back of the seat, and there was nothing holding her in behind her butt. She could've easily slipped off.

“Here.” He took her hand and put it in the pocket of his leather jacket. “You put your hands in there and hold on as tight as you can.”

He threw the bike back out of its parking space and onto the road. She screamed as loud as she could. The wind was blasting her in the face; she could barely see, it was so strong. Then they curved up into the hills where they both had to move as one unit and maintain their balance.

After a while, they began to read one another instincts and they learned how to move without thinking about it. Then they reached level ground, the countryside opened up, and she felt like she was flying. Riding on a motorcycle was a completely different experience than riding in a car. Lana was exposed to everything—the wet, ocean air, the sounds of insects, and the little gusts of the wind that pushed the bike around.

They stopped in a field near a cliff. When Lana jumped off, she was shivering.

“That was amazing!”

“I do it every chance I get.” He took her hand. “Come on.” They walked towards the edge of the cliff were a small trail had been carved into the rock. It curved down along the rock wall into a sea cave where a small bank of sand offered a place to sit down.

“Private beach,” he said casually.

“I can't imagine anyone finding this thing.”

“You can't see it by land.” He picked up a pebble and tossed it into the calm water. “The cliff edge hides it and,” he pointed to rocks jutting up out of the water at the mouth of the cave, “you can't sail into here.”

“How'd you find it?”

“It's an old, family place. Everyone knows about it, but we don't know how the trail got there.”

She faced him. “What's the water like?”

“It's nice. Try it.” The water from the sea cave was cut off from the rest of the tide. Instead, it sat in a smooth basin.

Lana walked to the edge of the water. The bottom was granite, so it was soft against her feet. When she stripped and stepped in, the water engulfed her toes. It wasn't perfectly warm, but it wasn't freezing cold either. She stepped in farther towards the center of the basin to dip her head in and get her hair wet. When she turned back towards shore, Tony jumped on her and bit into her neck softly. Then he clasped his hands around her stomach.

She pulled back to the shore and sat down.

“What?” He swam towards her.

“I can't trust you. I don't even know what you do for a living.”

“I don't do anything, not currently.”

“Come on.”

He pushed back from the edge of the pool and swam deeper into the water. “There's no questions.”

“I can't do this. It's too weird.” She got out of the water and started gathering her things.

He didn't argue. Instead, he sat with his back to her and waited for her to get dressed. Then he took her up the cliff silently. “I'll call a car,” he said, leaning against the motorcycle. He was going to respect her choice quietly, without arguing like a man.

“Please do.” She couldn't stand going down the road on that thing after rejecting him, and he didn't seem very comfortable. He saw her home, though. She stared out the window while they were sitting outside the motel. Every few seconds he'd look at her out of the corner of his eyes. It made her uncomfortable.

Lana wanted to tell him to look away, but she didn't want to open things up for conversation. It was bad enough that he was sitting next to her. She didn't feel right until she finally pulled herself away and walked back into her room.

It felt unreal having a man like him swooning over her. She could fall right into it, but there was something sinister going on. The clinic, the money, and, of course, the secrecy—she might have been able to accept Tony's secret if he told her what it was, but if she didn't know what she was getting into, she couldn’t stick around.

Lana spent the next week looking for places to stay. She eventually chose an old one-bedroom apartment. It had a balcony facing the water, so she could sit outside and watch the sunset.

The manager agreed to move her in the next day after work, so she brought all her things and started getting situated. She wanted to do a lot to the house, like bring in nice couches and patterned rugs to cover the wooden floor. She'd hang up paintings and put up drapes.

When she finally signed the lease and they left her there alone, she found herself in the kitchen, going through the cupboards, and in the bedroom, looking through the closets. She was memorizing every piece of the house and making plans for it.

But she was starting from nothing except for a few trash bags with clothes and some toiletries. She picked some basic things up at the store. There was soap, a little shower curtain, and a cheap blanket-and-pillow combination. That would do her until she had another day off and she could go shopping again.

It didn't feel normal when she walked out of her room in a towel to take a shower. She was used to her cramped quarters in the trailer. It felt too open, which made her feel exposed and vulnerable. Down the hall in the kitchen, the trees were whipping against the window screen above the sink. She must've left it open.

When Lana opened the bathroom door, the creak made her jolt. She would never get used to that. Or the way that her footsteps crashed against the floor. She was going to need rugs everywhere to dampen the noise, and some furniture to take away the echo.

The water fixtures were old and tough to twist, and when she turned on the water, it came out orange at first. But it was warm, and she had a new loofa she bought to go with a vanilla-scented soap. She let herself soak, then spread the thick liquid over the sponge. It went on soft and rich and it left behind a thick lather that caressed her legs as it drifted down towards the drain.

She was just about to turn the water off when she heard a thud in the living room. She grabbed the towel and ran out into the cold air. The wind had blown the screen off the front window. She turned back, shaken by the sound, and walked into the bathroom so she could finish rinsing off.

She let the water hit her in the face before she turned it off, hoping that it would relax her. Then she shoved the curtain aside and jumped back against the tile wall, struggling to keep her balance against the slippery tub. “What are you doing here?”

“You burnt the fucking trailer.” Jim slammed her forward and cracked the tile, lodging his hand in the wall. He took it out effortlessly and stared at her with his breath like rotten meat hitting her right in the nose. “You just thought you'd leave me there to die in the desert?”

“It's what you deserved.” She tried to step past him, but something caught on her foot and she fell, first onto the sharp corner of the bathroom counter. Then her head smacked against the linoleum.

“You didn't have to do that.” He was leaning over her, covered in dirt with a layer of crust surrounding the sides of his mouth. “Why'd you do that?” He picked her up and all she could think about was that he was going to impale her somehow. Then he threw her across the hall into the bedroom.

“What are you doing to me?” she wailed. He was walking closer while she slid back until she hit the wall. “Why are you doing this!?” she was begging him.

“You left me with nothing.”

“After everything that's happened, I think I've earned a little bit of leeway.”

“Nah. You were a wretched bitch. I've been wanting to do this for years.” He crouched down to face her. “You're dead.” He spits in her face.

There was no way she could fight him. He was at least twice her size and could probably take down a bear. If Jim wanted her dead, she was going to die, and there was no stopping him.

He paced around in front of her, mumbling to himself. Then he made the sign of the cross and pulled a gun out from the back of his pants. The clap nearly blasted out her eardrums. He was on her in less than a second. A pool of black-red blood was spreading across the wooden floor underneath him.

“Come on.” She was staring at his body when a strong voice and even stronger arms pulled her up by her shoulders and wrapped a robe around her naked body. Tony walked her outside.

She sat on the front windowsill and stared at the grass in the yard.

“You've seen plenty of dead bodies before.” He leaned against the railing across from her.

“No.” She shook her head. “That one was different. We were together for ten years. I won't just get over that.”

“I'm just glad you're okay.” Tony put his arm around her, and she let her head fall on his shoulders.

“He used to be the sweetest boy, never skipped class, never failed a test. He was so shy. That's why I was attracted to him. After we left school, his mother died and he started drinking and went downhill.”

“He's not the same person that you fell in love with. Drugs and alcohol change a person. They kill what little good is left inside them.”

“But there's always the memories of how he used to be, you know? I just wish things had worked out differently for him. He could've had a good life.” Lana turned to look back in the house, but she couldn't see anything from the front window. “What am I going to do about the body?”

“Just don't worry about it for now.”

She pulled away. “How did you find me?”

“Honestly, I stopped at your work to talk to you. Then I saw that creep following you, so I came here and saw what happened.”

“You're not alone.”

“I didn't know what was going on. I wasn't taking any chances.”

Lana saw a pair of red lights pulling away from the side of the house.

“Lana, come with me tonight. I just... I know there's no more danger, but I can't stand to have you out of my sight for a second, not after that.”

“All right. Let me get a bag.”

“Screw those old clothes. I'll get you new ones. I'll get you out of this place, and buy you something nice. I don't want you running around unprotected either.”

“No. I'm an independent woman, and Tony, I haven't made a decision about you yet. Even if I did become your girlfriend, I wouldn't let you buy me everything. That's not how these things work.” She turned around and walked back into the house to grab a set of clothes.

In the bedroom, it looked like nothing had happened. There was no blood stain, no body or gun. Somebody had come in and cleared everything out while she was outside with Tony. Whoever had cleaned up the murder scene worked quickly. They were professionals.

“Ready?” Tony was behind her.

“Oh,” she whipped around. “Yeah.” He took her back to his estate in a black Escalade and drove slowly this time. Every once in a while, he would take a peek at her.

“What?” They were traveling along the cliffs.

“When that guy broke in, I was thought you were dead.”

“Did that scare you?” she asked. A guy like Tony didn't look like he'd be afraid of anything.

“Fuck yeah, it did. I want you to stick around, Lana. Try me out for a bit.”

“And if I date you, do I have to look over my shoulder all the time?”

“I just saved your life, didn't I? Don't you think—”

“I don't owe you anything, but I don't have a choice. I couldn't stay away from you if I tried.”

He squeezed her hand and went back to the road. It infuriated her, the way he played her. He knew she was going to be with him, but he waited, patiently, and let her think she had a choice in the matter. Then he'd swoop in and worship her.

He parked around the side of the house and jumped out before she could open the door. Then he grabbed her out and hurried her into a side entrance through a stucco hall. “Where are we going?” she asked as she stared up at him.

“Up here.” He burst through a double set of wooden doors and ran her up a winding, concrete staircase until they reached the top of what looked like an empty bell tower. There, he'd placed curtains in the open windows that flapped in the wind as he threw her on the bed in the center of the room and tore off his tight, white shirt. Then he reared up, straddling her on both sides with his full form showered by the candlelight.

He tore into her neck, and she thought she was going to die. Every clash against her skin sent a shudder of heat flowing into her gut where it settled and began to grow.

He reached up, ravished her lips, and dipped his tongue into her mouth. Then he pulled up with a chuckle and bit her bottom lip. He was an animal when he tore her shirt right off her chest. Then he dove down, licking, biting, and kissing her chest to a ravenous rhythm while grunting and smacking his lips.

“Oooh.” He blew out air sharply and pulled her nipple up tight. Then he met her eyes and kissed her on the lips while his hand crept around her back and he used it to undo her bra. He threw it to the floor, then started showering her nipples with a tantalizing array of kisses while his hand crept down her stomach.

The heat that started with him tearing into her neck rose every time his tongue flicked against the tips of her breasts. Then it turned to lightning when his teeth clamped down on her nipple.

“Aaah!” she cried from the shock of the sweet pain.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?”

He dug his finger into her crotch through her jeans and the heat started to press against the inside of her thighs. It sizzled while he stood up, still pinching her nipple and unzipped his pants.

“You want my dick?” He grabbed his cock by the base and swung it up and down. “You do, don't you?” He dug his hand back down into her crotch. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes.”

He lifted her legs and pulled her jeans off. Then he grabbed her by the ankles and locked eyes with her. “Yeah.” He was rubbing his cock along her lips.

“Fuck me,” she whimpered.

“What was that?” He lifted his cock and slapped down onto her clit with it.

“Fuck me!”

He drilled through her barriers and his body descended down on her as his lips crashed against hers. He was grunting, with his pelvis smacking against her butt. He knew how to hit the right spot every time, and like flint to steel, his dick flared the heat up inside her, sending it slowly spreading around her body.

“Yeah,” he gasped and stuffed his cock in deep. Then he started drilling her relentlessly. His dick slipped inside her, filling her fully. So much that it set her insides ablaze. Their bodies started to clash together, and the sensation mixed with his grunts and groans. The energy between them pulsed as his thrusts got more and more intense. Her head fell back and she gave into it, letting the fire explode as her voice bubbled out of her mouth.

“Oh God,” she gasped. The heat shot through her whole body and covered her in a warm glow that seemed to grow more and more intense until he started wailing.

He pulled out and they both exploded at once. When he fell on top of her, he trapped her in his arms, and she knew that she wasn't going anywhere.

Lana woke up with the sun all around her, carrying with it a breeze that blew through the room. Tony was laying with his arm wrapped around her, stroking her cheek. He flipped her over and straddled her, with his cock resting on her belly button. Then he reached behind to a tray cart that was sitting next to the bed and fed her a strawberry.

“That is the sexiest thing that I've ever experienced” She swallowed.

He flipped over so that he was laying down facing her. Then he picked up another strawberry. His lips curled around it when he took a bite.

“It's too bad I have to go to the clinic today.”

“I took care of it. Today is for the both of us. Assuming that's what you want, of course.”

“It is.” She pecked him on the cheek before she went to get up and get dressed. There was no fanfare. She barely had to make an announcement; he knew she was going to stay with him. He probably just wanted her to say it.

“Where did this change of mind come from?” He sat up.

“Last night. I decided that there was no way I was ever going to get away from you, so I might as well just give in and go with it.”

“Smart choice.” He ate another strawberry. Then he poured her a glass of champagne. She sat back down beside him and took a drink, letting her eyes fall down his shoulders and over his chest. “This place is amazing.”

“The tower is renovated. It collapsed decades ago and was rebuilt from the old pieces. I like coming out here when there's a storm.”

“So what do you want to do today, besides lay in bed?” Lana asked.

“Hmm,” he stroked his chin playfully and rolled on top of her, pinning her arms to the bed. Then he kissed her and moved slowly through her until they both spent their energy and collapsed on the bed together.

“We're going to a barbecue,” he announced while he stared at the ceiling. “My father's having some family and friends over at his estate.”

“What will it be like?”

“Casual. Mostly just sitting around the pool eating burgers.”

“But what's your family like?”

“Big and loud.” He laughed. “They're harmless, but they'll put you on the spot. Just brush them off. We're going for the food.”

“Fresh catch.”

“And the best beef you've ever had.” He kissed her on the cheek and stood up butt-naked while she watched him put on his jeans. “What do you say?”

“I'll go.”

“Good.” He showed her down to the room in the cottage where she slept the last time she was there. When he left, she noticed a white box sitting on the bed. Inside was an elegant sun dress with an open back; it was made out of soft, white fabric. When she put it on, it fit perfectly. She walked out into the living room where Tony was sitting, wearing a skin-tight, black shirt and jeans.

“You look wonderful.” He got up to kiss her and coyly wrapped something around her neck. She looked down to see that it was a thin, golden chain with a heart pendant.

“You said you'd stick around.” He stepped back to admire it. “I just want a reminder when I see you.”

It was simple and sweet, hardly worth the man's bravado, but that's why she liked it. It wouldn't stand out; it was just a reminder that she was with him. “I love it.”

“I thought you would.” He kissed her then led her out to the car, a white, luxury sedan with a tablet console in the center.

“How many cars do you have?” she asked when he got in.

“No questions,” he reminded her as they left the estate.

“Aw, come on.”

“I'd tell you, but I can never remember. I lease them and change them out so often, but I do have a few that I prefer.”

“Which ones?”

“Classics, corvettes, an old mustang, and I keep some antiques.”

“You mean real antiques.”

“Of course.” They passed down the cliffs with ease and started heading up the beach north of the city into hills formed from lava rocks with gaps below where the water flowed in from the ocean.

“Do you have any brothers and sisters?”

“No, but I have at least two dozen cousins and sixteen aunts and uncles.

“Jesus.”

“That's small. My grandparents were strict Catholics, never used contraception. This is a big party.”

They pulled into the wrap around the driveway of a modern, Spanish estate with a yellow, stucco façade topped with arches that gave way to a courtyard leading out onto the beach. There was tables setup in rows holding platters of food. Most of the guests were either in the courtyard sitting and talking or hanging out on the beach.

“Hey!” An old, white man with a pot belly and scraggly white hair stood up. He was dressed in designer jeans and a button up. A group of people was sitting at his table in the center of the courtyard talking. When the couple walked up, they all turned around. These were the heads of the family, older men and women all gawking at the girl that had shown up to the family barbecue with Tony.

Tony walked to the man's side and slapped him on the back “Lana, this is my dad, Richard.”

Richard pulled Lana in and hugged her. “You know, this is the first time he's brought a girl to one of these things.”

She blushed.

“Listen, we got steaks on the grill and some burgers already up just back here. Get yourselves something to drink. We've got margaritas.”

“Thank you, Mr. Carter,” Lana said.

“Call me Rick.” He took a bite of a hot dog and sat down so he could dive back into a lengthy story.

“The first time, huh?” Lana got herself a burger and started building it.

“Yeah, so what?” He grabbed a burger. “Just a fun afternoon.”

“I'm flattered.”

“Good. You should be.” He took her to a bench out on the veranda where they could see the kids playing in the water.

“When I was in Arizona, I wanted something like that, you know—a family that I could take to nice parties and a husband by my side. Instead, I worked all day and came home to filth. Now this. It doesn't make any sense. I don't know whether or not I'm off balance, chasing something crazy with you, or if it's real.”

“You know I've got your back, though. I won't let anything happen to you, Lana. It's not as crazy as it sounds. We can be happy.”

“I still don't know what I'm getting myself into.”

He took a swig of the beer he was holding and threw it into the boulders off in the distance. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“But you'll still stay with me even though I can't answer your questions.”

“I don't like it. You said you were dangerous.”

“I am, but I'll do everything I can to make sure you're safe. I want you to be with me because you want to—without reservation.”

“I want to.” Her voice broke.

“Then go along for the ride. Don't let it get you.”

She could do that. It would be easy for her to fool herself into thinking that everything was okay, at least when she wasn't at the clinic but sitting out on the beach with Tony. Then when she went back to the clinic, she'd see all the bullet victims and remember that there was a sacrifice to be made for this life. People were dying.

“I see people get hurt every day, Tony, and I'm getting involved with a man at the epicenter of the violence. I've never been more scared. If I'm in danger, or you're in danger, you have to tell me. And I can't just watch people die without an explanation.”

“I'll never talk.” The discussion was closed when he walked back up to get a drink.

He owed her an explanation. She went back up to follow him and he casually herded her around the building. There was a man screaming on his phone near the front of the courtyard.

Tony was so smooth about diverting her that it made her want to slap him. “What are you protecting me from?”

“It's time to go.” He directed her to the car and got in. Now she was getting upset. Had she not known the risks involved, she would've held her ground and demanded some answers. It wouldn't have worked. He probably would've grabbed her and put her in the car like an unruly child. He had a dangerous look in his eyes as he raced down the road.

They were flying down the cliff road when she exploded. “You need to tell me what just happened.”

He pursed his lips and took a sharp right up to a dirt road that led uphill through the rocks.

“Where are we going?” she screamed. “What is going on?”

“Will you just stop?” He slammed the dashboard. “This isn't easy. I like you, Lana. I don't want you involved. It's not safe. There are too many things that could happen. So I'm going to protect you and keep you as far away from the trouble as I can.”

“I need to know.” They reached the top of the hill and drove through a field. The road was getting patchy. She had to hold on to keep her head from slamming against the roof of the car. “Where are we going?”

“It's a long drive.” He sat back, lowered his speed, and kept quiet. She decided to do the same. She wasn't sure what he was doing, but she decided to trust him. He was going to give her an answer, and that was enough.

The field stretched for miles until there was nothing else around. They were traveling farther and farther away from the coast and into the wild. The road kept getting worse until they were both bouncing up and down, rattled by the rocks in the road.

Eventually a tan, square building came into view in the distance. It was a long way off, and big. “What is something like this doing out in the middle of nowhere?” It looked like an unmarked factory with a chain link fence and guard towers surrounding it with men walking around the perimeter holding assault rifles. None of them had uniforms, just plain shirts, and jeans.

“What is this, Tony?” She was shaking.

He squeezed her hand and stopped the car about a quarter mile away. “Listen to me. Whatever you see here, I don't want to lose you. I'm not involved. None of this is me. I hate it, and I want to be with you. Can you remember that when you go in there?” He was dead serious; he didn't want to lose her.

“I… I don't know.”

“Look at me, Lana. You're safe, but I can't have you yelling or causing a scene.”

“What's inside there, Tony?”

“Just come on.” He drove further up the road, waved his hand out the window, and a man opened the gate. Then they pulled into a gravel parking lot and stopped near the front of the building. She was still shaking, her hand firmly gripping his when they got to the front door and he waved up at the camera so they could buzz him in.

They passed through a simple, concrete hallway and stopped at a pair of double doors. Tony turned to her with wide eyes. “Don't run away from me.”

She wanted to reassure him, but the look on his face told her that that was exactly what she should've been doing. “I won't leave yet.” That last word seemed to send him reeling. He stepped back, leaned against the wall behind them, and stared down at the floor.

“I don't have anything to do with this.” He stepped forward to open the door. “You gotta understand that.”

The smell of a million skunks poured out when he opened the door. Behind it was a warehouse that seemed to stretch for miles with rows marijuana plants sitting from end to end.

“Oh my god.”

“I don't got nothing to do with it.” He flinched back and closed his eyes.

“It doesn't matter. Your father he—”

“He's a good man. He never sells hard stuff. He's not doing anything wrong.”

“I don't buy it. People are dying for this stuff. That's not acceptable.”

He turned around and walked out. She followed closely behind him, grabbed him by the arm in the hallway, and turned him around. “Hey, I'm not leaving. I just....”

“You'll leave,” he said bitterly and turned around to walk back towards the exit.

“But it just doesn't answer any of my questions.” She followed him into the car.

He started it up. “The Carter family has been dealing drugs and moonshine in San Diego for more than a century. It's just how we've always gotten along. People would get what they needed from us and they'd come to us if they had an issue. You can't trust the police to handle everything, so the Carter family stepped in where there was a need. That's how things like this get started.” He drove back through the field.

“Things like what, Tony? What is this?”

“The mafia, but you don't know what that means.”

“Then tell me,” she demanded. He swung the wheel and veered a right straight into the field then he hit the gas until the car was sitting at the top of a cliff near the edge of the water.

“When somebody gets hurt, or they mess up, we take care of them. We take care of the neighborhoods, give out food and money. We watch businesses and make sure they don't get broken into. The cops can't do the things we do, so we step in, and we fund the operation with the weed. We ship it up and down the coast.”

“But why are people dying?”

“Those are low-level drug dealers getting robbed by addicts and competing thugs. The problem is drug prohibition. When alcohol was illegal, people were dying in the streets doing the exact same thing, only it was over whiskey. Nowadays you can get whiskey wherever you want to, and they're not killing each other for it. At the time, the people thought that alcohol was something that would never be purged from society, but humans don't just imbibe alcohol. People have been getting high off everything from insects to tree sap since before man could walk. People are going to use whatever, no matter what the government does, and they're willing to die for it to keep that cycle going. The only way to stop the deaths is to stop the illegal trade.”

“The money people get from selling this stuff isn't worth the risk.”

“I agree,” he said, staring out at the water. “I hate it.”

“But you're involved.”

“No. My father's involved. When my father dies and I take over, the business will be shut down. The men will be disbanded and all of this will be over.”

“What about all the men running around in wife beaters collecting insurance from businesses?”

“The Carters aren't like that. It's peaceful. People don't just get killed without a good reason. It's mostly to protect men and their families when somebody decides to ruin their lives and go to the feds. It's too much of a risk to have them walk away, and considering what the feds will do to the people that get in trouble, it's a fair response.”

“You're justifying this. You're telling me that you're going to disband this whole operation when you take over, but you like the way your family does things. You idealize the mafia. You're even justifying the killing.”

“When a man runs out and decides that he's going to go to the feds, he's putting my father and my family at risk of losing their freedom. You're damn right I'm justifying that. I believe in protecting my people, and yes, I do like pieces of this lifestyle, but it's not worth it. If I get my way when my father dies, I'm closing the whole thing down.”

“And you don't get involved, not in any of the violence or the drug trade—nothing.”

“Nothing.” She knew he was lying.

They were halfway to Tony's house when he turned to her and asked, “Will you please stay with me tonight?”

“Of course.” She didn't want to leave him that evening, not after what she just saw.

If Tony wasn't taking any part of his family's activities, then why was he dangerous? Was there something else that he wasn't telling her? This man had too many layers to him. Every time she found something out about him, she found out that there was a completely different side to him. She could spend years trying to figure him out.

Lana wanted level ground. She wanted to know who she was dealing with, what he had to offer, and what being with him meant. She still didn't have the answers to any of those questions, and she wasn't sure she was going to get them. No matter how hard she tried to figure him out, there would always be something else she didn't know.

Lana hated uncertainty, and more than anything else, she hated having secrets kept from her. Those bullet victims were sacrificing themselves for a twisted game. Thugs always say the same thing; Lana had heard them. They all talked about making money and becoming rich off selling. Then they'd get caught up and start doing the drugs themselves. Ultimately, they'd end up homeless, and wind up in prison or dead. They were poor, young men putting their lives in danger for the false promise of having a better life.

That wasn't okay, but Tony was right. If they ended prohibition, just like Lana had heard plenty of times, they wouldn't have gun battles on the streets. There wouldn't be any of the pressure of the cops or people getting robbed, because whoever wanted to sell would be allowed to do so out in the open. There would be more weed, so there wouldn't be as much of a demand and people wouldn't be killed over a few ounces. The violence would end the second the bill was signed into law.

She couldn't justify what the Carter family was doing. That was the hardest part. When she thought of the weed, she kept thinking of Jim sitting on the couch with red eyes and his stinky feet sitting on the coffee table.

And she couldn't trust Tony when he said he wasn't involved. There were so many things she didn't know about him and he didn't want to answer any of her questions. She might just have to leave, because he told her he was dangerous and the kind of thing that his family was involved in was dangerous. She was treating the victims of that violence every day.

Still, she was in too deep. This man could take whatever he wanted. Even if she did try to walk away, he'd show up, whether it was in person or he found a way to creep into her mind. She worked at a clinic that his father owned. He'd have every opportunity to creep back in and she'd let him, because there was something so alluring about him. It was far too powerful.

She was his. She would just have to stick by him, and hope that as his layers peeled away, he didn't turn ugly.

When they got back to the estate, she had more questions, not just about Tony or what danger he'd bring, but also about the business, how it worked, and how best to keep both of them out of danger. He never wanted to think about what could happen; there'd be blood staining the desert sand, his entrails flayed out on the jagged, scorching rocks.

Or, as she got out of the car, she was trembling at the thought of fishes picking at his corpse, eating his eyes or tearing at his nose until he looked like a dead pirate clutching at a chest of Spanish doubloons. That's what this was; it was a deadly hunt for money, and even if he wasn't involved, he wound up with a bullet in his arm.

They walked into the house and she followed him into the main living area where a dinner was already setup for them, roasting in the oven. The air smelled like succulent beef and tender vegetables. He sat down on the couch and she sat next to him, resting her head in his lap while he stroked her cheek. She could see his bandage moving back and forth.

“How is it? Does it hurt?”

“No. Not unless I move around too much.”

“How did it happen?” She looked up to face him.

“I don't wanna talk about it.”

“So,” she sat up, “we're back to secrets and lies.”

“You're worried about my family, fine. I get that, but this had nothing to do with my family or the Lorrentz family.”

“The Lorrentz family.”

“It's another family in town.”

“They're at war with your family. Aren't they?”

“One guy sells for Lorrentz. The other guy sells for Carter. The two guys meet on the street they go at it like monkeys. You got Carters shanking Lorrentz’s guys in prison and people setting up Carter and Lorrentz territory. It’s the small-time dealers that are doing it, and the real family wants it stopped. They'll do anything to stop the killing.”

Lana wondered whether or not he could be killed just by being seen by some thug on the street trying to make sure everyone knew he was the guy that killed Tony Carter. If people knew who he was, and the crime family he was involved with, then that would make him a target.

“None of this matters if you won't tell me how you got shot.”

“I'm not going to tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have my reasons and I'm not going to be pushed into talking about it. It's not your business.”

“I am finding it so hard to trust you, Tony. I want to,” she raged, “I want to so badly, because I really like you, but there's too many secrets and too many lies. I want things completely out in the open, and if you can't do that....”

“You won't walk away. You couldn't even if you wanted to. But if you stay, you're going to have to accept the terms I have to offer. You can have whatever you want, but you've got to stop asking questions.”

“It's not enough, Tony. Take me home.”

“It'd be better if you stayed here tonight.” He sat back down on the couch and patted the seat next to him.

“Why?”

“There's trouble. It has nothing to do with you, but you're staying here just in case.”

“Well, I wanna go home.” She stood there stubbornly, refusing to give in. “What is happening?”

“Unless you can walk back, you're not going home tonight, and Lana, I'm gonna tell you this once.” He went serious and locked eyes with her. “Information is dangerous. You never ask questions in this world. You simply enjoy your life and keep your head low. That's how you have to live.”

“But I'm not that type. I wonder. I worry.”

“Don't,” he urged her.

“But this is real danger. The Lorrentz family.”

“It's another family in town.”

“Not as real as you think. This is just a precaution. Now sit down, do whatever, but don't give me grief.”

“All right, fine.”

Here was a man that really cared about her, and could offer her anything she wanted, and she was punishing him. It wasn't right to give him grief, but any normal woman would wonder what was happening. Why was he forcing her to stay with him? Was there trouble with a rival gang, or maybe they were beings raided by the feds?

Those were things she should know about, but all he'd say was don't ask questions. It was enough to make her lose her mind. She should've been running out the door in fear for her life. Instead, she just lying on the couch with him moving his hand down her body.

His bandage had been redressed and cleaned. It stuck out the side of his arm. “Stop.”

“What?” He was suddenly serious and starting to get up.

“I just—why did you get shot, Tony?”

“Ah, screw this. Sleep in the guest room.”

Sometime, about halfway through the night, Tony crept back up to sleep with Lana. He walked in slowly, wearing nothing and holding a pillow. She let him slip into the sheets, and even let him put his arm around her waist, but the second his hand darted out to catch her breast she said, “Okay, tell me.” She sat up in the dark with her hands on her hips.

“Tell you what?”

She turned over and threw his arm off her. “You know exactly what. You’re coming back in here with your tail between your legs. Now you’re going to tell me why you got shot.”

“No.” He turned over to face the other direction and grabbed some of the blanket away from her.

“What do you mean, no?” She tried unsuccessfully to pull the blanket away from him. “You can’t just come back in here after pulling that.

“It’s my house. Besides, I was the one that chose to leave. You didn’t kick me out. So you don’t get to say when I come back.” He turned back over and rested his arm around her with his exposed body pressed against hers. All her anger seemed to wash away, leaving an infuriatingly sweet tenderness she couldn’t help but succumb to.

The next morning, when she woke, he was snoring softly, and mindlessly rubbing her nipple. She couldn’t help but giggle at the tickling feeling. She hopped up, butt-naked, and threw on a robe from the hook on the door, along with some slippers. Then she checked her phone.

She had to be at work in one hour and she needed a paycheck, so she wasn’t going to miss going this time. She bent down to kiss Tony before leaving, and he turned over with his legs open, smiling. His cock was sticking straight up, ready for her to wrap her lips around it.

That one, juicy moment would be enough to make her want to quit her job and stay there forever. She could do it, take him in every few hours that day and lounge about with a bowl of berries while they tested the limits of what their bodies were capable of.

“Come here.” He gently rested his hand on her.

She let her head drop for a moment, her thighs tingling. Even her mouth was wet. She could just have one taste and pull back when it was getting too late, but it was trap. He wouldn’t be satisfied with her mouth, and he had a way of moving. Once she touched her, he'd slip right in. He could have whatever he wanted, and he’d take it.

“I have to go to work today.”

“No. Stay home.” He sat up on his knees and rubbed his cock against her belly. “Let’s mess around.”

“If I do that, I’ll end up spending the entire day with you in bed, and lord knows I want to, but I have to work.”

“No.” He had a menacing grin. “You don’t have to work. Ever. Never. You could lay in bed every day of your life, eating truffles and drinking champagne.”

She stepped back and turned around. “I want to make one thing clear: you will not lavish me with gifts—no cars, no diamonds. I am an independent woman.” She turned back to him and met his eyes dead on. “I will develop an independent career, use my own money, and while I will enjoy some of the things your lifestyle has to offer, I will not throw myself into it.”

“You’re going to be rich, Lana. That comes with privilege—power. You can do things, make an impact on the world, and see things most men could only dream of seeing. I won't let you deny yourself that.”

“I will do things my own way. I won’t be utilizing your resources extensively.”

“Fine, but what about living here instead of in that nasty shack?”

“No, and I’m going to assert some control in this.” She stroked the head of his cock and walked away to get ready.

“Oh, come on!” She shut the bathroom door and made good time, glad that she would have the luxury of getting a ride from what might as well have been a race car driver.

She kissed him goodbye and ran headlong into a panic. Four men were screaming their lungs out with blood pouring out of some serious lacerations. The receptionist was trying to pick up the weight. The room was full of people, and most of them weren’t going to make it.

Lana rushed to check the patient closest to her. He had an arm wound, and it wasn’t bleeding too badly, so it was going to have to wait.

“That one!” The doctor pointed to a man across the room with a bullet on his shoulder. Blood was spraying everywhere. He stopped the bleeding while she removed the bullet, which had been lodged in the bone. Then she stitched him up and changed her gloves to rush to a man screaming, with blood pouring out of his chest. It was deep, near his heart. The man wasn’t going survive without intensive surgery. She watched as his body drained itself of his blood and his dark skin turned a tinge of purple.

When she pulled the sheet over the man's head, she noticed that his face had been tattooed with a mural of an Azteca blood God devouring its victims. Lana once heard that modern men who practiced one of the many Mesoa American religions believed that murder was something to be worshiped.

“They’re stupid, all of them, for getting into this.” She passed the doctor by to treat a gushing leg injury. The floor was slick with blood and tissue, a sign of the blood bath that had been going on all day, judging by the pale doctor’s black circles.

He dealt with the organ damage while the receptionist incinerated body after body.

“They’re dumb, but it’s a part of who they are. Who are we to judge them?” The doctor stitched up an arm wound and moved a dying patient to the incinerator so the patient could watch and wait for his corpse to be burned.

“Why is this happening?” Lana struggled to contain the bleeding of a man with a stomach wound. He would need surgery, but there might not be enough time. The doctor was already trying to stitch up a foot-long knife wound that slashed into a man’s arms.

“I need blood type O!” he screamed. Lana rushed into the locker and found five containers.

“We’ve got five left. Will he survive without it?”

“We’ll have to take the chance.”

“No!” The man, a bear capable of crushing the doctor’s skull, threw himself off the bed blindly. Then he shot up and slammed the doctor to the wall by the neck. The doctor’s face was turning blue. It was the patient or the doctor, but only one survivor would emerge.

“Back off! I’m bringing it!” She grabbed a bag, a hook, and walked over to the patient. “Now sit down or you ain’t getting nothing!” She pointed toward the bed and he pulled back obediently and sat back down on the bed.

“This is a waste. You people are killing your own selves.”

She jabbed the needle in his arm and he grabbed her, “Lady, I got two felonies. They won’t even take me at McDonalds. You think I wanna do this?” He scoffed. “Now get out of my face, you stuck-up, white bitch.”

She gladly moved on and stitched up one man after the next. She lost count, but if she had to estimate, nearly fifty men died that afternoon and they just kept coming in. At some point, the clinic had to turn them away, and let them either bleed to death or find some other way to get care. It got to where Lana couldn’t look out the window, because the men were lined up outside, bleeding, caring for their friends as best they could. They were desperate to survive while they waited for their place in the clinic.

It was the most horrific thing that Lana had ever seen, men dying and wailing everywhere while the people bled out all over the pavement. Every time somebody died, Lana had to take them to the incinerator. She had to be the last person to see the men intact.

“You ever wonder what they were like?” the doctor asked while he grabbed a gurney to rush them into the OR.

“Every time, but with these guys, I already know.”

“You don’t know nothing about me or anyone else here, you dumb bitch.” I turned around to see a man with scraggly, white hair and wrinkled skin covered in tattoos. “You think I got a choice? Went down for possession of coke 20 years ago. Haven’t been able to get a job or a decent place since.”

He had a knife wound the size of her arm, but he was staring directly at her, barely reacting to the pain.

“Well get it fixed.” She began moving the tissue back into place, careful to hold back the bleeding while she did.

“You’re going to need an operation. Otherwise you’re going to bleed out. But....”

She didn't have to tell him that they would never get to him in time.

He struggled to sit up and pointed towards the medical cabinet. “Grab a stool and pull down the box on the top and bring it to me.”

“I’ve got things to do.”

“You’ll give a dying man his last wish,” he declared with authority.

She looked around. People were going to die no matter what. At least helping this man in his last hour would do some good. She used the stool to reach on top of the medical cabinet and pulled down a box covered in fine, black velvet with a golden carving of a snake eating its own tail.

She carefully brought it to the old man, who pulled out a sack of weed and what looked like an ancient, clay pipe. “Who are you?” she asked, mesmerized.

“Jean Lorrentz, retired head of the Lorrentz crime family.”

“Am I in danger?”

“Not yet. You’re Tony’s girl. He’s not involved in business, but I’d be careful. You don't wanna get seen. You should cover your face.”

The man broke up the weed like he’d been doing it every day of his life, then he loaded the pipe and took a puff without even coughing. “It’s been 25 years since I had a good bowl. Told myself it’d be the last thing I ever did. I knew I’d die here, so I figured I’d have a nurse hide some for me, along with this.” He pulled out a syringe filled with amber-colored liquid.

“Now, mind you I was part of the team that started this clinic.” He motioned for a tourniquet and she handed him one. “I get to go how I choose.”

Lana knew that assisted suicide happened all the time. It was a medical secret. There were some wounds so terrible they last for months, even years, eating away at the patient’s stamina. So it’s common practice for a nurse to give a little too much morphine. Doctors fake the death certificate and everything goes the way it’s supposed to. Every hospital in the world does it, because people need it.

But watching this man artfully string the tourniquet around his arm gave Lana a queasy feeling. He was going to overdose on heroin in front of her. When he stuck that needle in his vein, she cringed. This wasn’t assisted suicide. This was a man killing himself right in front of her. She’d never seen anyone just casually accept death, much less bring it on themselves. So far her experience with death had been completely confined to people who were going involuntarily, but this was different—sinister. No man should ever violate his natural survival instincts.

Even worse was the soft smile that came over him when the shot hit his veins and his head fell over while he drifted in an amber cloud of medicated bliss. No man could possibly have a more peaceful death. That’s why he did it.

“Stick him back in the OR.” The doctor came up behind her. “The family will want the body.”

“And they’ll be here to pick him up.” The thought of men from a rival gang coming to the clinic stopped her dead.

“It’s a neutral place and has been treated as such for more than a decade. Now hurry up. There’s a female patient and she needs buckshot removed.”

Lana rushed from person to person, saving some, losing others, and the stream of men kept on coming and coming. She wore two masks so nobody could see her face. This time, she wasn’t taking the risk. This was a war with heavy losses on both sides, and that would mean more bloodshed. Things could get worse.

“How are we going to help all of these people? What if it gets worse?” Lana was at the washing station, sanitizing her hands before she went home.

“We can’t help all of them. This room is all we have. It’s gruesome every time it gets like this. Sometimes the Carters and Lorentz have to come to take their men and dispose of them for fear anyone seeing the bodies in the parking lot, and more than one man has been left die to help the others, even when he could’ve been saved. Now,” he turned to her, “can you handle this?”

“I’m involved with Tony Carter.”

“Should a mark be put on your head or you compromise the safety of this clinic in any way, you will be let go immediately. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Go.” He ushered her out.

Lana didn't care that the blisters on her heels from running around the hospital were grating against her shoes, or that her body was screaming.

No.

She had just spent the entire day watching people lined up to die and she was going to get some answers. She raced up the cliffs and nearly drove her car off the road trying to make it past a twist. Why were those people there? What was happening? She wasn't going to believe the former leader of a rival gang. The old man could've easily been lying about whether or not she was in danger.

Words she never wanted to hear passed through her mind. War. Massacre. Blood feud.

That's what this would turn into when things came to a head. People were going to be surrounding the clinic, their bloody hands streaming against the windows, bodies filling the incinerator to capacity, all because of some stupid plants.

The entire time, she'd be running around, trying to clean up the losses of some stupid war she wasn't even supposed to ask about. Well, this was psychotic. She was ready to turn right around get out of town if she didn't get some answers.

She didn't care that they were gangsters. That was nothing. What she cared about was whether or not something was going on that would put her in danger, and no matter what anyone told her, she didn't have anything concrete that ensured her safety.

Tony could fight. He could probably handle a weapon, but if an entire troop of those men came to his door, he would die, and she'd have to live without ever knowing what it meant to be with him—to go running around naked on an island or fly in a private jet. Most of all, she would never know the joy of waking up to him for the rest of her life.

She loved him. She couldn't say it out loud. It would be the ultimate form of submission. The second she told Tony she loved him, he would have complete control of her. He could get her to do anything with a look. She couldn't love this man because he was in danger, and if she lost him she knew that she wasn't going to be the same.

The wound would grow and eat at her until she festered. Life would become meaningless, and she would just roll through the motions until she couldn't any longer. She didn't want to wait to die, sitting in front of a TV like the patients at Sunset Boulevards. She wanted to really live and experience life.

The only way she was going to live was if she stayed with Tony. Otherwise, she'd be stuck grinding away for nothing. Or she could leave, forget the whole episode, and take the heartache before it became completely overwhelming. Maybe she could leave. There would be crying fits, and some depression, but nursing jobs were in demand enough for her to get a job fast.

What if she showed up there and there were men surrounding the house, ready to burst in and kill him? The patriarch of the Lorrentz family was shot. That meant that the higher ups, the men who ran the gang, were probably being singled out and killed.

Men like that wouldn't stop at the head of the gangs. They would go for their family, their children, and most of all their sons—the heirs to their empires. Pure dread poured down and settled in her gut. They were going to go after Tony.

She didn't care about death, not if she were being truly honest with herself. Lana cared more about what happened to Tony, and if the heads of the gangs were being killed, then he was in danger. He couldn't just hide this kind of thing from her.

She would leave if she had to. She would do it. He couldn't keep her in the dark, leaving her worrying every second of every day that she'd wake up and find him cold and pale. They'd burn him in the incinerator like the rest of the bodies, or cover his body in paint and display it at an open casket.

Nobody who loves somebody the way she loved him should ever face that kind of loss. If he wouldn't tell her what was going on, she'd have to leave Tony, because every time she closed her eyes, she saw his, glazed over facing hers with pale, blue skin.

She squealed her tires, pulling into the gravel lot, and slammed on the gas right before she reached the front. He jumped out of the house before she could get out of her car. When he was on her with his arms wrapped around her shoulders, she knew that she could never leave the man.

She backed up, slapped him in the face, and screamed, “You're going to tell me why I just saw two dozen men die today.”

“No.” He turned back around and walked into the house.

“Oh, no you don't!” She grabbed his arm and he whipped around so fast she nearly fell over.

“This fight is over!” He seemed ten times larger.

“No.” She stood on the doorstep. “It's not.” That took courage with him so close to her. He was so hot she could feel it coming off him. “You have no idea what I've just been through. Death after death. We had to have somebody man the incinerator so they could constantly throw bodies in. I watched a man with his eye socket blown out screaming while we took care of the patients that needed us more than he did. He died from blood loss. We don't have any blood left at all and right now there are people swarming the clinic with theirs gut spilling out in the parking lot because they are so full they don't have enough beds for critical patients. I have never been more disturbed in my entire life.” She lifted her foot, and threw her shoe off, slamming him in the face with it. “And these shoes! Digging into my heels.” She stepped forward, barefoot, and stared the beast head on. He stepped back.

She had power over him too. He cared enough that she could hurt him, just like he could hurt her.

“Now you are going to tell me exactly what is going on.”

He turned around and walked back outside while she followed him into the ruins, down a twisting staircase that turned out to be made of ancient wood beams embedded into an adobe column.

“What are you doing?” Lana stepped forward to see him huddled over what looked like a blast door.

“Opening this.” He pressed his hands against the adobe wall beside it and the surface changed from a patch of stucco into a black tablet that ran a green line over his hand. Upon closer inspection, the surface was smooth and the tablet was displaying fake rock.

The sound of hydraulics signaled the opening of the foot-thick metallic door.

“What is this?”

He stopped and turned around, blocking the entrance. “Not one word we say in here, not one single thing you see ever leaves this chamber. Understood?”

Lana nodded her head and he stepped aside to reveal a cinderblock hall lined with glass cases holding every weapon imaginable, from assault rifles to miniature missile launchers. Lining the floor were cases and cases of grenades.

As they descended further underground, Lana noticed that the entire hall, which was more of a tunnel was filled with guns. There were also boxes of ammunition sitting on top the grenade cases. She could only imagine the kind of power these weapons were capable of. They reached another blast door at the bottom of the tunnel, and walked into another hall filled with weapons cases. On the right, there was another door, but the tunnel led further down.

“What's there?”

“Security. You will be given a direct line to them in case anything happens. You're completely safe here. There's dozens of men walking the perimeter. Motion detectors, cameras everywhere, and an arsenal large enough to an arm a militia.”

“Where does this go?” She pointed out into the tunnel.

He turned back around and started down the path. She sighed and rushed to catch up with him. There was another blast door and a tunnel with ammunition. As they walked farther down, motion-sensing lights lit up. The bottom was starting to come into view.

“Oh, this is amazing.” The bottom opened into a decorated living area. There was a modern kitchen, a bathroom, even Wi-Fi.

“I figured if I was going to build a bomb shelter, I might as well do it right. It's fully self-sustainable.”

“What is this?” Lana walked into a room sitting just off the kitchen. When the light came on, Lana found a glass case with what looked like a mechanical arm inside. Beside it were blocks of solid metal. Lana recognized copper sitting in the corner.

“This is the 3d printer, a work in progress. When I'm finished, it will use molten metal along with a top-of-the-line robotic arm capable of printing electronic components. For now, it can do everything else, from cookware to sculptures, even food.”

“Food?”

“Yep, it even bakes.”

“Why do you have all this?” Lana walked back into the living room.

“Because I might need it someday.”

“What happened?”

He sat down on the couch next to her. “Some of the Lorrentz got together and planned an unsanctioned raid. It sparked off a street war when it happened. Men called for backup and it turned into a complete massacre.”

“So what's going to happen now?”

“The heads of the families are signing a peace treaty and decrying the attack as a bunch of idiots acting against orders. It won't stop all the killing, but things will even out after a while. There will be an influx at the clinic. I will talk to my father about using another location.”

“I watched Jean Lorrentz die. If he was killed, then they might start coming after us.”

“He was shot by accident. It was a Lorrentz that did it.”

“Oh.”

“He shifted around so he could face her. “Could you please stop freaking out? You're safe.”

She shot up off the couch and leaned in. “You got shot!” She was right in his face.

“It had nothing to do with this.”

“Why!?” She screamed so hard she could feel the muscles in her neck clenching.

“It is not your business.” He remained calm, completely undaunted by her violent outburst.

“I'm leaving you if you don't tell me. I can't live like this. You keep telling me there's no danger, and that I'm fine. But I need to know that you're safe. That's all I care about, and I don't think I can live like this, worrying all the time, huddled up in a shelter. And how do I know you're safe when you won't even tell me why somebody shot you?”

“You're not leaving,” he declared definitively. “Admit it. You can't leave me.” He stood up to meet her, with his body heat so high it licked at her like tiny flames. “Admit it.” He cocked his head. “Admit you can't leave me.”

She was never going to say it.

“We both know it, Lana. You love me.” He might as well have torn off her clothes. Even worse, he could see through her.

“You love me and you know that I love you and you will never leave me. Say it.” He moved forward. “You're going to be with me. You're gonna do everything you ever wanted to do, and lay all day on that bed with me. And we are going to be happy,” his voice broke, “I am not under siege. I never will be. What you don't understand is I'm not involved. Both families know it. They won't touch me.” He gently rested his hand on her lower back. “It was the first time I ever got shot.”

“Why did you get shot?” She stepped back and threw his arm off her.

“For a woman.”

She turned around and ran out.

“Whoa!” He grabbed her arm. “Why does it bother you so much? That's the heart of it. Get it out.”

“To think that you could care about another woman so much that you'd get shot for her I—”

She had tears flying down her cherry-red face when he tilted her chin up. “I'd never get shot for that woman. Never cared about her. You can rest assured that you are the only woman I'd take a bullet for.”

He let her head rest against his chest. “I love you, Tony.” There, he had complete control of her.

“I love you too.” He pulled her in tighter while she sobbed, purging herself of the day's experience, the men, the blood, and the screams. They left her when he melted into him. With Tony, she had to give everything up. Once she did, and she told him how she felt, she could truly be with him.

“We're gonna stay together, aren't we?” he asked while they walked up above ground.

“Yes.”

He squeezed her hand. “You've never seen the world, just a small, bland corner. I'm going to show you. I'm going to give you designer gowns, every car and yacht you could imagine. Do you have any idea what I'm capable of doing, Lana?”

“I know, but I won't fully understand until we get there.”

“We are there.”

Lana turned back up the stairs for him to follow. He couldn't be fully reassured. When she met him, he had a hole in his arm. She needed to know why. Over a woman? What woman? And why would he get shot over her if he didn't really care about her? Maybe he did. It happens, but lovers never want to think about their lover’s past.

Still, he was behind her, there for the moment, and if she couldn't be certain they were safe, she would savor the moments she had. She told him she loved him and now she couldn't leave him. So she was stuck with her worries and an overpowering lover.

That night, they meshed together, sweat and passion, curled in a ball underneath the blankets. Lana just wanted to be closer to him. But she didn't feel like she could get close enough, regardless of her efforts. Tony was familiar. Lana knew every part of him, and the sound of his voice—even how he worked, but there was still a thick wall between them.

She threw the covers off and got up. Maybe she was being selfish. Maybe Lana didn't know anything about Tony's past, but there was no way he was giving it up. She pulled a bullet out of man's arm, for Christ's sake.

It wasn't just the trauma of him getting shot, or even her worries about his safety. Tony was hiding something big from her, and he had a reason for being so adamant against telling her about it. He wasn't hiding mafia business. They had a code of silence; that would make sense.

No.

He had a personal reason why he didn't want to tell her about the gunshot, and that was more insulting. He had to tell her, and she was going to get it out of him. They had time. She walked into the shower and started lathering up.

With Jean telling her to take precautions about being seen at the clinic, there was no way that Lana was going home, or even out of the house. This was the safest place she could be.

She walked out naked and poked Tony while he was sleeping. He rolled over, a huge tent sticking up out of the covers. “I need something to wear.”

He sat up. “Why?” he asked drowsily.

“I'm not going home with this crap going on. I'm staying right here.”

He hopped up with his cock sticking right out of his boxers. “Well, what size are you?”

She blushed. “Ten.”

He pulled his phone off the charger and pulled up an app. “What do you want to wear? Something casual like jeans?” He was streaming through a photo album.

“Why do have so many girl's clothes?” She ripped the phone out of his hand.

“I like my women to have nice things without having to send out for them.”

“Oh.” She wished she hadn't asked.

“Well, let me see.” She held her hand out for her phone and flicked past image after image of cocktail dresses, casual wear—anything she could think of. Her eye did stop for a moment on a casual, white dress with floral print.

“That one.” She pointed at it.

“I'll have it brought up.”

He swooped in behind her and grabbed her by the waist so he could pull her back down onto the bed where he held her tight with his back against her chest and his cock sticking between her thighs. They could just be together. They didn't just have to have sex. Tony's touch was enough joy to last a lifetime, and she knew he felt the same way, especially with the tender way he rubbed his chin against her neck.

But she couldn't be close to him the way she needed to be.

“If you're staying,” he whispered, “we get to have fun.”

“Not until you tell me why you got shot.” She got up off the bed and into the bathroom, as if she had some reason to be in there.

“Hey, I have no problem with abstinence.” He leaned against the door with his cock dangling between his legs. “I'll wait you out, but I'm not telling you and you're gonna give in. Because we both know,” he waved his cock around and looked down at it with a smirk, “you can't resist this.”

“Oh, I can resist it.” She slammed the door in his face and started hunting down a toothbrush. He didn't have any right—she needed to know, and he was right: she couldn't resist him. Lana already wanted to run out of the room and hop on top of him, but she had a mission.

Lana was going to hold out as long as she could until he finally cracked. A beast like him needed regular maintenance, or else he'd start to go wild.

The door slammed open. “Your dress is here.” He was still naked and moving his cock up and down while holding her dress up.

“Thank you.” She snatched the dress away and slammed the door. He was going to play rough, but she was going to get the better of him. Once she was dressed, she walked out and declared, “I need some time alone.”

“O-oh no. You're not getting out of it that easy. We're going to the beach house.”

“I don't know. I just don't feel like doing anything today, you know?”

“Or we could stay in bed. It's your choice, but this is my house and I'm not sure I feel comfortable leaving you alone in it.”

“Then don't leave me alone in it. I'll go into another room.”

He got up off the bed as soon as she turned to leave and grabbed her arm to face her towards him. “Can I just have this time, Lana?” He needed her just as much as she needed him.

“We can spend time together, but until I know why you got shot, I'm not going to have sex with you.”

“Resistance is futile.” He turned around and got dressed while Lana watched seductively, softly nibbling on her finger... It took all the discipline she had to pull away and walk out.

He was a confident, manipulative, and so sweet. She would've loved to wade in the cool water and lay on the sand with him. They could move through the sheets at midnight, surrounded by the ocean air, and it would be bliss, but she had a mission. She was going to find out what happened, and she was going to have to resist him to do it.

Lana opened the fridge, and grabbed herself a yogurt so she could sit down and eat while he continued to get ready. When he came down the stairs, he was wearing a pair of shorts so tight she could see everything, even the curve of his hips.

“It's not going to work.” Lana kept her eyes down at her yogurt, even though it was almost gone.

He came up behind her when she got up to throw it away and started kneading her shoulders, sending the tension out of her neck, causing her to throw her head back and moan softly.

“Okay, stop.” She struggled to pull herself away. “I told you the rules. Now stop trying to break them.”

“I just wanted to give you a massage.” He pecked her on the cheek and walked past her, staring back seductively. “What?”

She was staring at the way the fabric fit perfectly around him. “Nothing.”

He bent over to get into the fridge.

She turned away, but she could still see it in her mind’s eye. Her thighs were already tingling, and her heart was having a conniption fit. If the man didn't stop soon, he'd end up on top of her and she'd give in.

He was eating a bowl strawberries, dipped in cream, taking his time moving the ruby-red fruit through bowl. When he lifted his first strawberry to his big lips, he licked the cream off first.

She sighed. “I wanna go.”

“Well I haven't finished my breakfast yet.” He continued his attempts at seduction with the strawberries, and he wasn't letting up, so she walked back into the living room and had a seat. She picked up the big remote and mindlessly began scrolling through the channels, fuming. He should trust her.

Tony shouldn't have had to worry about whether or not she'd give away his secrets or what she'd think about him. She was going to be by his side no matter what. He should have known that, and she suspected that he did, so why was he keeping this from her?

Tony walked back into the living room holding his bowls of strawberries and cream.

“Oh, no. You're not eating that whole thing before we go. I don't want to sit here and watch.”

“Yes, you do.” He licked the tip of a strawberry and bit into it.

“I don't want to wait here all day.”

He set the bowl down and pounced on top of her. “You wanna play in the sand.”

She was so caught off guard that she yelped and fell right into his kiss.

“Or do you want to do it here?”

Her breath was racing, and all she could think about was the way he pressed against her thigh. She was pulsing, aching for it, and he was ready to give it to her, but she couldn't give up that easily.

“No.” She slid under him and struggled to stand up. “Just stop torturing me and tell me!”

“No.”

She stormed off up the stairs and into the master bedroom. She pulled out a bin of coconut wax and shoved it in her pocket. Then she walked back out to find him watching a football game. He shut it off right away and turned to her.

“I picked this out for you.” He pulled up a black one piece with a skirt around the waist.

“No.”

“What? I thought you took a vow of chastity.”

“That doesn't mean I have to wear a swimsuit for fat women that are too ashamed to show some skin. Now hand me your phone.”

He pulled it off the couch to shove it into his pocket, but he was quicker, and a lot more motivated. He pulled up the app and started scrolling through the outfits until she came across a bright-red bikini and a thin pink nightie.

“There.” She ordered them.

“Give me that.” He took his phone back and grabbed his crotch when he saw the bikini. “It might make things easier if you just went naked. I hate having to untie those things.”

“You're not getting that far.” She grabbed the remote before he could get it and turned on a chick flick. “You're never getting laid until you tell me how you got shot.”

He breathed hot air onto her neck and her body melted into the seat. “You're going to give in.”

What Lana regretted most was the fact that Tony's dishonesty had put a barrier between them. She wasn't just fighting because she wanted to know. She was fighting because in order to truly get close to him, she would have to know his secrets, his desires—everything. Otherwise they wouldn't be able to meld the way that two lovers should.

He didn't even seem to notice or care. He held her hand while they walked down the natural steps carved in the cliff to his private beach. “This isn't fun for me anymore, Tony.” She ripped her hand away.

“Why not?”

“Because you're keeping something from me.” She stopped halfway down the steps, “And it doesn't matter what it is, or why you're keeping it from me; I still know you're doing it and it's keeping me from getting close to you.”

He stepped up towards her. “Are you saying you don't want to me with me?”

“No. I—yes.”

“You want to be with me, you just can't handle not knowing, or the fact that I'm keeping a secret from you. I understand that, but you're not really going to leave. I'm banking on it, and I can't tell you why I got shot. I'm sorry.” He didn't sound sorry, or even understanding, but he was saying the right things and that meant that she felt the pressure to go along with him, and she did, but her anger level was rising.

If she asked again, it would make her look like a child throwing a tantrum. If she went along with him, she'd end going back on her promise not to have sex with him until he told her the truth. Right then that was the only piece of leverage she had and she was going to make the best of it.

When they hit the sand, he grabbed her picked her up and started running.

“Let me down!” He did.

“Come on, Lana.”

“I have to put on some sunscreen first.” She slowly undid her pants and then her zipper to reveal the top of her bikini bottoms. Then she started working on her shirt, letting it slide over her stomach before she threw it to the side.

As she pulled down her pants, he stepped in, rubbing his gigantic bulge, but she stopped him. “I told you no, and no means no.”

“Fine.”

She kept on going, ripped her skin-tight pants down over her ankles, then she threw them aside to reveal a bright red bikini and exposed skin already scorching in the sunlight. She reached down into her pants while he lay in the sand, stroking himself.

She started rubbing the lotion over her feet, and caressed her ankles. Then she moved up to her calves and decided to bend over in front of him so she could get to her thighs. As soon as she did, he slapped her butt so hard she squealed.

“You asked for it.”

She turned around, kicked sand in his face, and started running for the water. She wanted to feel what it would be like to get caught in the tide, just like when Tony took her. God, she couldn't deny it: she wanted him so bad.

She turned back to the beach to look for him and he was standing right behind her, butt-naked. He pressed his hand against her neck to push her into his kiss and she let him. She let him move himself over her thighs, she even let him undo the top strap of her bikini, but when her breasts fell out and she realized that he could take down any barrier he wanted, but he would never let her in, she pulled back.

“Still? Why are you still on this?”

“I can't give it up.”

“Have you at least tried?”

“Why should I have to? What's so important about it? It's not like it's got anything to do with the family. It's something personal, and that's bothering me. What's bothering me the most, though, is the fact that you can do whatever you want, but I have limits. I have to follow along. You can take down my barriers, but I can't take down yours. Don't you care about how that feels?”

“I think that you're taking one small thing and projecting all of your neuroses at it, and it's causing you trouble. Have fun. Be with me.”

“No, Tony. This isn't like that.” Her cheeks were red with rage. “This is important and I need you to understand that. If you can't take me seriously, then things won't work out. I'm a nurse, I sew people up for a living. I'm not a drama queen.”

“I never said you were.”

“You're acting like it.”

“Ah, screw this.” He turned around and pointed up another set of steps. “The beach house is up there.” He walked down that way and left her there to pout in the sand.

He wasn't taking her seriously. Maybe he thought she was something pretty to put his dick into. That could easily be the case. The man had probably been with thousands of women. There was no reason for him to choose her, and who keeps a secret like that from somebody they really care about?

Tony did.

And she knew that he really cared about her. He wasn't the kind of man to stick around for theatrics. If he didn't care, he would've run away by then. She wasn't just a doll for him to carry around. He did respect her, or else he wouldn't have shown her the grow-op, or the tunnels under his house. He was letting her in and she couldn't get enough. She had to know everything about him, and her insatiable desire for information was going to destroy their relationship.

She was being a baby. Everyone has something that they'd never tell anyone. She had secrets like that too, and he wasn't throwing a hissy fit trying to figure out every one of them. She was being unfair to him—ruining a day that they could've spent bonding as a couple. She didn't have any right to deprive him of that. He commanded the best and he would have it.

Lana didn't bother to put her clothes on; they were covered in sand, so she brushed them off and carried them confidently back up the steps. He won, just like he said he would, but for a good reason: there never should've been a fight in the first place, and when she finally got to the top of the steps, it would be over. She'd give in, and they'd have their day.

She was excited, and couldn't help but run, careful not to slip off the edge. When she got to the top, he was sitting on the steps with his head down. He had been moping the whole time, just like her.

“I'm sorry.” She ran up to him. “I'll give it up. You won't hear another word about it again, I promise.”

“It's okay.” He pulled her in and kissed her like only a scorned lover could. He wanted her then and there. She could feel it pressing up against her.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.” She took his hand and followed him into the house where a buffet line had been setup in the large kitchen. There was carne asada, pollo asado, tortillas, and every accouterment possible, from salsas to pickled onions.

“Had it brought up for us before we left. I thought you might enjoy some tacos out on the patio. Some of it's kind of strange; authentic Mexican can be an acquired taste.”

“I'm from Arizona. It's all we eat.” She folded a tortilla and loaded her plate with steak and chicken, along with a healthy helping of guacamole and pico de gallo. On top, she placed a mixture of pickled jalapenos and pickled carrots.

“How's your Spanish?” he asked.

“What little I do know is medical stuff, the kind of thing you just say with an accent.”

“I'm fluent,” he declared.

“You are?”

“And in Mandarin, French, and German.”

“Mandarin?” She stuffed one of her corn tortillas with chicken and added carrot.

He replied with a short string of soft sounds mixed with harsh, tonal twangs.”

“No way. How do you do that? Where'd you learn?”

“I spent a year in China traveling. If you don't know it there, you're completely lost. Nobody speaks English, even in the bigger cities. It was terrible trying to learn it. Took me months to even form a coherent sentence correctly. The language is tonal. When you say something with a high, low, or mid-range pitch it means something different. After I got that down, though, it was easy to learn. Chinese is remarkably similar to English in sentence structure and phrasing.”

“That's the craziest thing I've ever seen, a mountainous intellectual.” She pecked him on the cheek and dug into her food.

“I'm not intellectual, really.” He pulled a beer out of the fridge and got her one. “Language is a different part of the brain. People good at languages hate math, physics, and all those things. That's me.” He gave her a look with his head cocked to the side.

He wanted something from her now. He was giving some of himself up and she was being asked to do the same. She dove in. “When I sixteen, there was this boy in school and as soon as he saw me, he followed me around and we talked about everything. We'd lay out in the dry river bed at night, looking out at the stars. It was only natural that our relationship developed and we graduated ready to face the world. He sold weed while I worked at a restaurant, and went to school. I watched him, night after night staying up, drinking and partying. The circles under his eye got bigger. He got fatter and his mood changed. He could barely hold a conversation without screaming.

“I watched the man I loved die, and with every moment I lost my love for him. It broke my heart, but he was too far gone for me to stay with him. Just a few days before I met you, I found him overdosed in the bathroom, so I called the police and the second they dragged him away, I burnt our trailer and that life to the ground”

He rested his hand on her shoulder. “I'm so sorry. I've seen people go like that, and it's worse than watching a man die.”

“It is.”

“And when you love them, watching them pass away... I love you, Lana.” She didn't even realize that she was crying until he hugged her and she felt her tears running down his naked shoulder. “I knew that something was wrong when I met you, but I didn't want to say anything. I figured it was pretty personal.”

“I was never going to tell you, or anyone about it. There are just some things that happen in life that you're so ashamed of you hate yourself for doing them. Staying with him all those years was like that for me. That's the kind of stuff you never tell anyone.”

He took a drink of his beer. “I'm different. If I don't believe in it, I'll never do it. Live like that, and you'll never have any regrets.”

“Look,” she pointed out the back door towards the water.” The sun was hovering over it, ready to sink into the water.

“You wanna watch the sunset with me?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, I do.” They walked out back and laid down on a white cushion while the sun's rays played over the ripples of water.

They lay out there, even after the indigo sky had turned to black, and watched the stars with Lana's head resting on his shoulder. She could've died happy with her eyes drooping, falling asleep to the sound of his breath and the waves crashing against the shore below.

“Do you love me?” he asked. She reached in to kiss Tony to reaffirm her love for him, but she couldn't find him. His voice was coming from directly in front of her, but when he reached out, there was nothing but mist. It was so thick that she couldn't even see her hand in front of her face. The mist had rolled in from the water. She could hear the water, and feel the sand under her feet, but she couldn't see him even though she could feel his presence all around her.

“Tony!”

The sound of her voice fell flat. It didn't carry.

“Tony!” Nothing came out, and she was starting to get breathless from screaming. Every breath she pulled in brought the mist with it. She could feel it filling her, making her lungs and throat scream. She was going to drown in this mist, and he was there. He was there somewhere, and she couldn't call out to him.

Then the horn sounded, cutting through the mist and she shot up. It was the sound of Tony's phone going off. He grabbed it.

“What's going on?” He listened for a moment then answered, “Get it taken care of.” He hung up and turned to Lana. “We've gotta go, now.”

“Why?” She stood up.

“There's no why or how come.” He grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. “We're leaving, and there's no questions.”

He rushed out of the house and they nearly ran over what could only be described as a hood rat, with pulled-tight, black hair, a cursive tattoo on her neck, and an arsenal of rings on her hands.

“You son of a bitch!” She rushed at him with her bright-green nails held out like claws. He dodged her effortlessly and started to walk down the stairs. Before they managed to get down, the girl grabbed Lana's hair and nearly tore her scalp off.

“Ah!” She screamed.

“Okay.” Tony dropped her and with the full force of his gait, ran up to the girl. “You're a lying skank and I want you off my property right now.”

“What about our baby!?” She crouched down on the ground, bawling.

“What are you doing here?” His voice could move mountains.

“I'm out.” She got up and started running into the darkness.

Tony wasted no time in throwing Lana over his shoulder again and throwing her in the car.

“You got a girl pregnant and now you're trying to disown the child. I don't know what I'm doing here. You are the lowest life form on the planet. What would happen to me if I got pregnant?” She turned to him. He was leaning with his head sitting on top of the steering wheel, trying to catch his breath.

“Not one word. I can't handle this right now.” He threw the car into gear and started racing through the field, avoiding the road. Lana was staring at him, his teeth bared and the veins bulging out of his neck. He was breathing so fast, it scared her.

“What is going on, Tony?”

“I said no questions!” He turned towards her.

“Why are we avoiding the road?”

“What'd I just say?”

“I just found out that you dumped a woman you knocked up. I don't really care about your no question rule. I wanna know what's going on, because obviously, Tony, you're terrified.

“Stop!”

She ducked when she heard the crack, so powerful it nearly crushed her eardrums. Lana had never heard anything like it, but she knew what it was immediately. Somebody was shooting at them. Tony slammed on the gas, and flipped the car around so he could get behind the black SUV that shot at them.

“Stay down. Don't move.” He reached into the backseat and pulled out an assault rifle along with a thick, what must've been bulletproof, blanket. Everything was black. All she could hear was that crack, crack, crack, like the world itself was snapping open. Every single time she heard that sound, she felt certain that he was going to die. He wasn't wearing the blanket; she was the one that was protected. He was out in the open, and one of those bullets was going to hit him in the head.

It wasn't fair. He should've been protected too. If he wasn't, she wasn't going to be. She threw the blanket off and sat up. Then she stared him directly in the face and said, “Hand me a gun.”

“No!”

“I am not letting you do this alone.” She reached into the back seat for the gun case, and was thrown forward. Her head hit the dashboard and a stream of warm liquid fell down her face. She looked to her left to find him rushing out the driver's side, blasting an automatic.

He was going to die and she was going to be standing in front of his casket surrounded by all the men that kept this disgusting life going. She hated it!

The SUV turned around and started zooming past in the other direction. Tony took out his phone and called somebody. “No casualties. Just get them out of here.” He waited. “No. No. We're all safe. I don't want them alerted.”

“All right.” She jumped out of the car. “What is going on?” she demanded as she dashed up to him, inspecting him for any dark spots of blood.

“Do you care about me, Lana?” he said as he got in her face. “Huh, do you care?” He didn't wait for her to answer. “Don't you ever put yourself in danger.”

“I—”

“I won't let you get hurt.” He pulled her in as close as he could and held her tight. She was on fire, still blazing from the day before and the thrill of the gun battle they'd just gotten into, but she couldn't ignore what she just heard.

“Who is she?”

“Oh, no. You are not starting that crap. She was lying, Lana! I already told you that.”

“I think you took a bullet for that woman and whoever that demon was in the SUV shot you. I think you want to move on, because things went sour, and now she's pregnant and you don't want to deal with it, and I can't be with a man like that.” She walked around back to the passenger seat and got in.

“She's crazy, Lana.” He stood outside her window.

“That's what everyone says about their exes.”

“That's no—”

“She hurt you, it's bad blood, and you're right, Tony: it's none of my business.”

“I'll tell you everything that happened, and I should've done it in the first place.”

“I don't want you to say a single word to me. Now get in the car and take me straight home without getting me shot.”

“I'd risk my life for you.” He stared her down, and even though it killed her, she let him without giving him a single glimpse of remorse or sympathy. She turned cold and stared straight ahead while she felt his heart breaking.

He did what she said, and took her home without saying a word until he dropped her off in front of her house and said, “I love you.”

She got out without responding.

Lana's whole body was on fire, screaming for something, anything to let out that one, fiery burst of anger that had been building up inside her all night. She was angry at Tony, she was angry at herself, she was angry at the world, and not one thing would make this right, because he was going to lie to her no matter what she did.

Oh, he'd make her feel good, and safe. He would make sure that everything was taken care of. If she stayed with him, she'd never have to hustle or fight to survive. She'd always have him, taking care of her, but he wouldn't be loyal. He'd be betraying her with his every word by lying straight to her face.

What kind of man abandons his own child before it's even born? That woman was furious. The look in her eyes when she saw him was enough to tell Lana that she was telling the truth. That woman, whoever she was, had been wronged by Tony and instead of taking responsibility the way any decent man would've, he’d left her to fend for herself.

He'd rather lie about her, betray her and leave her there, probably crying because she knew that there would be no way she could take care of her child alone. People don't talk about what it's like for single mothers. They're everywhere. People see them every day, but they don't talk about the fact that child care costs as much as a minimum wage monthly income, or how they don't get a second alone. Then there's the added cost of taking care of a child.

Even a woman with a degree, a good one, would have to struggle and give everything she had just to make sure she could get up, go to work, and make sure that child was fed. Lana couldn't even stand the sight of a man that would do that to a woman, and she certainly wasn't going to be his human sex doll if that's the kind of man he was.

Lana dressed as fast as she could and rushed out the door to go to work. The entire way there, she thought about just how much she hated herself for getting fooled by him. She should've been more careful, and ran when she realized that there was something strange about him, but he was too powerful.

It was his fault, honestly. The way he moved, his husky voice, and pronounced muscles created an aura around him that nobody, not even the coldest, strongest-willed nurse, could ever resist. He did this. He was the reason she was hiding behind the already filled clinic, trying to keep people from seeing her cry. He did this. He lured her in and he decided that he couldn't trust her enough to tell her anything but the most basic facts about himself.

She was so angry she could have killed him, and would've if she thought he had a chance. He had to have her, every single part of her. He couldn't leave anything. She told him about the trailer, her deepest secret. Nobody ever knew that her ex was an addict. Nobody ever went to her place. She dreaded the thought of anyone knowing how she lived, but she gave that up for Tony.

She walked inside the building, and immediately ran to the back. The doctor was holding a gigantic man down, trying to strap him to the gurney, but it wasn't working.

“Ah!” He thrashed and threw a right hook at the doctor, but he missed, and when Lana got a chance to wrap the leather strap over his chest and pin his arm down, she took it.

“You wanna die or you wanna get that bullet out of you?” the doctor barked.

“GET IT OUT!”

The doctor should've let him bleed out. It was no wonder the man was so upset, Lana thought bitterly. He had a gash in his stomach. When a person is shot in the stomach, the acid seeps out and eats away at the skin. It takes twenty minutes of gruesome torture before the person passes away.

At least they died. Lana would have to deal with the pain Tony caused her for the rest of her life. She was heartbroken. She didn't have the energy to hustle, or the stomach to look at a man she knew was going to die. She couldn't function, because she let Tony into her life and he betrayed her.

That's what it was: betrayal. He told her that she could trust him, and he lied to her. He told her that she could be safe with him, and they were shot at. He told her those things time and time again, and every single time she gave into him and let him take her.

He'd probably be waiting outside the clinic again, but she wouldn't go with him. Not this time. She'd finally found a reason to walk away and she was going to stick to it. He abandoned a woman carrying his child, and left her to fend for herself.

Lana found herself in the break room almost as soon as she was done helping the doctor with that man in the OR. She needed coffee. It wouldn't help with the anxiety, it would probably make it worse, but at least it would give her the energy she needed to run around and help these men.

She walked out with confidence, only to find that most of the beds were empty. The receptionist was disposing of some bodies in the incinerator, and looked up at Lana when she walked out. “Cheer up,” she said.

“What do you mean cheer up?” Lana got in her face.

“Just that he's not the one, but that's okay. There's somebody out there for you.”

“How do you know?” She threw her cup down onto the ground.

“He's my uncle. He told my father this morning. He won't even leave his house. He's so upset.”

“Well, good, because he shouldn't have lied about that woman.”

“Kirstie is a lady, not a woman,” a voice behind her said, “and you're right. He shouldn't have lied about her.” Lana turned around to see a young, medium-built man with tousled, brown hair.

“What?” she asked. He was staring at her.

“Everyone else is sleeping and I have a bullet in my arm.”

“You do, don't you?” She got up to meet his eyes. “Why should I take it out?”

“Bad day?”

“Bad evening.”

“I heard.”

“You heard, did you? What did you fucking hear?”

“He knocked my sister up, and tried to abandon her. He should face the consequences.”

She sanitized her hands and put on a pair of gloves.

“And he should've told you about her. They're saying that's why you left him.” He ducked down to get a look at his foot. Somebody shot his little toe and the bullet had been lodged in between his foot bones.

“I think that women should be equal partners in a relationship. I'm not going to be some human sex doll he can show around.” She sat up to address him. “I'm a human being.”

“I was so pissed when I heard that he got with you, honestly.” She started pulling out the bullet.”

“Why?” she asked, staring up his legs.

“Because he doesn't treat women the way they're supposed to be treated, and after what he did to my sister, he doesn't deserve to be with anyone. I was worried. What if he did that to you?”

“Oh, I'd have killed him.”

“And I wouldn't blame you,” he said.

She dressed the wound and began stitching him up. “I'm not making the same mistake again.”

He reached down and lifted her chin. “You deserve to be treated like a princess.”

“Thank you.”

“Let me try. Go with me tonight. I'll show you the city.”

“I don't even know your name.”

“Marco.”

She looked back down and resumed stitching. “Marco, you're involved in this life, and that means that you could put me in danger. You'd never tell me about your business, and you probably see women like me,” she finished stitching, “as possessions.”

“I'm not a part of this life. I'd never get involved in anything so sick.” He stood up and offered her his hand. “And you don't know me. I tell everything to the woman I love.”

“What do you want to do?” She cocked her head to the side.

“Take you out to eat and maybe walk down the beach.”

“Why do you want me? Because he had me? Who are you?”

“I'm just me, and you'll never know until you get to know me.”

“I need your word that he won't find out about this—nobody,” she pointed around the room, “can know about this.”

“Of course,” he answered.

“I get off at 6.”

He flashed her a smile. “I'll see you then.” He turned around and walked out as if he hadn't been shot at all.

“I knew it,” the receptionist called out from behind the desk.

“Knew what?”

“When I saw him come in, I knew you'd get with him. Marco's a charmer. You'll like him.”

Lana didn't have a single dress to wear. Her lipstick was down to the nub and all her eyeliner pencils were completely shot. She had to remind herself that if that mattered, so many men wouldn't be going for her. It was a first date. It would be casual, and if it was formal, she wouldn't take part in it, because she was not getting swept off her feet by a cocky billionaire.

It didn't matter, honestly. Marco seemed simple, wearing a black tank top and faded jeans when he was in the clinic. He didn't seem like a tuxedo kind of guy. His boots were stained with mud and his jeans had holes at the bottom of the pant legs.

Tony was rough, but he didn't get his hands dirty. Marco was rugged and as tough as Tony was, with scraggly hair on his chin and a wild look. When he came to pick her up, she noticed the way his eyes kept darting back and forth.

He was an animal.

“Come on.” He pulled her outside and into the passenger seat of a white corvette.

“Where are we going?”

“To a restaurant.”

He pulled onto the road so fast her head slammed into the back of the headrest, and he didn't stop, not once. When they hit a stop sign, he gassed it without a second's notice onto the major street where he whipped between cars while ignoring stoplights.

He turned to her. “This okay?”

“Heck yeah, it is!” She threw up her arm “WHOOO!”

“We never get stopped. Nobody cares. The only time people investigate is when we kill somebody, and even then, they grease the wheels, so I have my way with the city and tear into her every single chance I get.”

He snarled and let his eyes move over her.

She leaned back and let the thrill just pass her over. They stopped at a seaside shack with a ship's wheel hanging on the wall next to a net. The place looked like a dump. The paint was chipping and the whole thing was being held up by a pier that looked like it was mostly cardboard and barnacles.

“What's this?” she asked.

He sucked in air sharply through his teeth. “The best fresh catch in the city.”

She was eating fresh catch with another gangster, and she didn't have a single problem with it. Tony would hate this. He would've ripped the man's head off, and thrown him to the sharks. Nothing gave her more joy than imagining the look on his face if he saw them together.

“It's not that bad,” he said.

The carpet was peeling away from the floor.

“It's terrible.”

“Sit down.” He led her to a booth.

“Fine.” She took a seat.

The waitress, a ball of wrinkles, came up to their table, dressed in an ancient, white shirt that had yellowed over the years. “Hi,” she was a cheery as a Japanese schoolgirl. “My name is Glenda and I'll be taking your order.”

“We'll have two clam chowders, two beers, and a sampler basket.”

“Hey,” she said as the waitress walked off. “You didn't even give me a chance to order.”

“Everything else tastes like crap.” He took a roll from the breadbasket in the center of the table and took a bite of it. “You're gonna love it. I promise.”

“So,” she stared out the window next to her. “You're not involved. That's what Tony told me. What makes you different?”

“I cut ties with the family completely. They don't like it, but they accept it.”

“And the money?”

“Trust fund.”

She sighed.

“You don't trust me, but you won't know unless you take the risk.”

She wanted the risk. Screw caution—repeating all the same old mistakes. That didn't matter, not with an angel staring at her, smiling.

“I'll give you tonight, and if things work out tonight, then we'll see.”

The chowder arrived in an over-sized mug with soup crackers and a refill of rolls.

“This?” She picked up the spoon and let the watery goop flow down it.

“It's the best clam chowder you will ever find in your entire life. Try it.” He dipped a roll in and took a bite.

She took a small, steaming spoonful of the broth and blew on it.

“Oh, come on.”

“Fine.” She stuck the spoon in her mouth and threw her head back. The fresh saltwater burst in and mixed seamlessly with the cream, creating an enticing mixture that left her wanting more. “Oh, god.”

“Bet you're as wet as those clams, aren't you?”

She blushed and took a piece of a roll to dip it into her soup. “He never answered any of my questions. That bothered me more than anything. I never got a word out of him. He kept saying that I would know what I needed to know.”

“It's a requirement when you're active in the life, but since I cut ties with the family, I have nothing to hide. My life is simple. I work at the docks and own a house off the beach. Other than that, I don't know. What about you? You work for the clinic, but nobody knows anything about you.”

“See, that's the thing. You talk to people that are involved in this.”

“You're misunderstanding the term family. Family is a member of the gang. Unfortunately, my close family is all part of it. Friends, acquaintances—some of them know people in the family, but none of them are a part of it.”

There it was, just like with Tony—a half truth, and that wasn't going to fly. The thrill was amazing, but she could get that elsewhere. Maybe she could go skydiving, but at that moment, she had no place in the restaurant with him.

“I think I'm gonna go home.”

“What? Why? Come on.”

“No. I want to go home. Take me home.”

“Not until I finish my food.” There was a big, steaming basket of assorted fried seafood sitting untouched in the center of the table.

“I really don't want to wait. Can't you get a box or something?”

“Sit down,” he urged her. “If you wanna go home after I've eaten, I'll take you home.”

She sat back down reluctantly and finished her chowder while he devoured pieces of shrimp and fish like a ravenous beast.

“What is it?”

“If I sit down and start explaining my issues with you, you'll try to argue them away and it won't work.”

He shrugged and reached into his pocket to pull out a shooter of vodka. He took it with a bite of fish. “Want one? I have another.”

“No, thank you.” She wretched at the thought of the rancid liquid pouring down her throat. He shrugged and took another.

“You gotta try these hush puppies, you know.” He popped one in his mouth. “They've got that ocean taste.”

The taste sitting in her mouth was no longer tantalizing. It was worse than the vodka, because he force-fed her then handed her a lie. At least Tony told her when she couldn't ask questions.

“Why'd you get shot?”

“Target practice.” He was lying, and he actually thought that she was going to swallow it, but he wasn't.

“I'll take a cab.” She got up, but he grabbed her hand when she tried to leave.

“Let me take you home.”

“You've been drinking.”

“I never drive without drinking.” He got up, dropped a wad of hundreds on the table, and left. He wasn't just born with family ties; he was a hustler. The way he threw around his cash—that wasn't a trust fund. That was a steady flow of illegal money.

She walked behind him, and let him open the door chivalrously. Then they hopped into his corvette and they started driving, fast this time, but his style was aggressive. He opened the center console when they stopped at the light and pulled out what looked like a bullet.

“What are you doing?” she shot back, terrified.

“Relax.” The bottom of the bullet slid open. He held it up to his nostril and took a huge whiff. The man was taking bumps of coke, driving at nearly 80 miles an hour, shooting down the major streets of San Diego. Then he pulled out a bottle of Patron and took a swig.

“Come on.” He handed it to her.

She looked at the bottle like he was handing her a grenade. “No.”

He shrugged and flipped the car in a circle at a beach turn off.

“What are you doing?” She was petrified.

“You know what?” He took another bump. “I'm not letting you get away just because of some some twisted fucking complex in that tiny brain of yours. You're too fucking sexy.” He took another shot.

“Are you calling me dumb?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“I am a medical professional performing procedures most doctors couldn't handle, and you're nothing but a filthy gangster, taking advantage of people so you can get ahead. Now hand me that bottle.”

He did and she threw it out the window. It smashed on the pavement and he slapped her right in the face, evoking a fury he never could have possibly imagined.

She bashed his head into the steering wheel and reached into the glove compartment where she was certain she'd find a pistol. She was right. She put it up to his temple before he could react.

“You just hit me.”

“Yeah, I did. Now get that gun away from my head.” He tried to swipe it away, but she held it in place and cocked it.

“Do you believe in Jesus Christ?” she asked.

He went dead still.

“I asked you a question! Do you accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and savior?”

“Why are you asking me that?” His voice was low.

“I'm warning you. When I pull this trigger and you're not right with God, you're going to burn in hell.”

“Yeah?” He reached down with a laugh, whipped the gun out of her hand and pulled out a peashooter that had been strapped to his ankle.

“Now, I don't care who you believe in. You so much as twitch and Tony will be staring at your entrails on the evening news.” He used his other hand to open the bullet and took another bump.

She didn't move, breathe, or even blink, but she did twitch and felt the cold metal sticking into her head as a warning when he started the car back up again and somebody rear-ended them.

“Careful Tony!” Marco got out of the car with his hands up, and nearly got shot in the shoulder.

“Tony! Help!” He was standing behind the door of a black SUV with an assault rifle creeping out from behind the door.

“Tony, what happens if the heir to the Carter family kills the heir to the Lorrentz family? It's gonna kill hundreds of people.”

He shot Marco in the ear and screamed, “Lana in the car.”

She jumped out of the car and into the SUV where she grabbed the bulletproof blanket and threw it over her body. He got in, slammed the door, and started driving.

“Oh, god. I'm so sorry, Lana.”

“No, it's my fault. Just go.”

She couldn't see what was going on. “Is he following us?”

“It won't matter.” He was losing it.

“What do you mean?”

“The Lorrentz family doesn't allow direct attacks against family members. We've got to get to safety immediately. He's bringing people in.”

“Isn't there anywhere we can go?”

“The tunnel.”

She reached out for his hand and held it as tight as she could.