Maria looks confused, but she rings me up. I guess she remembers our interaction from yesterday. After I finish with her, I make the trip over to see Bob—the stare he gives me matches the one I got from Maria.
“Ah, Mr. Ward.” He tilts his head slightly. “Did you have some problems with your data transfer?”
“Nope, I just need you to do it again.” I toss the new phone on the counter.
“Wow, you…” He picks up the new phone, and I shoot him a glare that quickly shuts him up. “I’ll get started immediately.”
“Thank you.” I nod. “By the way, my text messages and phone calls didn’t get moved yesterday. Can you recover those this time?”
“I’ll see what I can do.” He turns around to work.
Leaving the hospital may have been a mistake. I’m certainly feeling the beating I took. I want to find Kiana, but I’m going to have to set that problem aside for the moment. I don’t have enough money in the bank to clear that fucking debt, and if Diaz doesn’t want to honor his deal, then I’ve got to take drastic action.
God have mercy on that son of a bitch because he won’t get a single ounce of it from me.
I’ll finish this—my way.
The adrenaline boost I got from fleeing the hospital is starting to fade. I feel better than I did when I woke up in the parking garage, but not well enough to storm Diaz’s club. Oh well. I’ll just have to take the risk.
“Good news and bad news.” Bob turns back toward me. “I was able to get everything transferred and restored everything you’ve gotten since yesterday. No luck on the old messages or calls, though.”
“Thanks.” I grab my phone and immediately check them.
My heart skips a beat. I’ve got multiple missed calls from Kiana. She didn’t respond to my text message, but at least she tried to initiate contact.
Suddenly, she’s my sole focus again. I call her as I walk outside and find a taxi that can take me to my car. No answer. I keep calling the entire way to the office and get nothing but voicemails.
“Fucking hell, this is infuriating.” I slam my hand into the back of the seat and am immediately rewarded with a quick surge of pain.
“Everything okay, sir?” The taxi driver glances back at me.
“No, but it’s not your problem.” I sigh and look out the window.
I get out of the taxi next to my car and try Kiana two more times before I finally give up. Maybe it’s better if we don’t talk right now. I need to live another twenty-four hours before I can make any new promises to her.
The drive back to my house comes with it’s fair share of pain from every bump I hit. I’d love to have an opportunity to recover before I take on Diaz and his thugs, but that isn’t an option. I’ll just have to grit my teeth and tough it out—like I did in the desert when I was fighting someone else’s war.
I’ve never been much of a post-military gun nut like some of the other soldiers I served with. I won’t be walking into Diaz’s club with my bare hands as my only defense, but I can’t blow the place up—somewhere in the middle will work fine. I sure as fuck wouldn’t mind having an M-16 in my hands, though.
The first thing I do when I walk into my house is pour a drink. It’ll help dull some of the pain without messing with my head too much. After that, I go to my bedroom and pull out the few guns I own.
Glock 19, .45 ACP, and a Mossberg 500. Two handguns and a shotgun. Hardly what I would call an arsenal. At least I have plenty of ammunition. One bullet will have Diaz’s name on it.
I ponder my options for several minutes, and a knock at my front door pulls me out of my trance. I’m on high alert immediately. Did Diaz decide to show up at my house? Are his thugs back for more? I grab my Glock 19 and walk toward my front door with every ounce of caution I can muster—just as I hear a familiar voice on the other side.
“Bram, you in there. We need to talk.” It’s Lawson.
“What the fuck…” I mutter under my breath.
I put myself against the door with the gun held ready and look through the peephole. Lawson’s face isn’t bellowing with rage—that’s a bit different from yesterday. Still, why would he show up at my house? He beat the fuck out of me the last time I saw him. There hasn’t been enough time for any of those wounds to heal.
“What do you want, Lawson?” I answer him through the door. “Didn’t get enough licks in yesterday?”
“I’m not going to hit you again.” He looks down and sighs. “You have my word.”
Lawson’s word used to mean everything to me, but I used to think he was a good man too, so I’m still not entirely convinced he’s here with anything other than bad intentions.
I should tell him to fuck off, but I can’t find enough anger inside of myself to turn him away. He looks disheveled. That’s my fault. He’s still Kiana’s father, even if he is an asshole. If he wants to have this conversation now, then we’ll have it. I push the Glock 19 into the back of my waistband and slowly open the door.
“Come on in.” I step back and let him enter.
“Fuck, man, I didn’t realize I beat your ass that bad.” He looks at me, perplexed.
“Not all you…” I shake my head. “Want a drink?”
“More than ever.” He nods.
“If you’re not here to kick my ass again, then why are you here?” I pour two drinks and hand one to him.
“Because I’m a fucking asshole, and I need to apologize to you.” He squeezes his glass in his hand, grimaces,
