“How did you find me?” He asked, his voice so low she had to strain to hear him. There was something there she hadn’t heard before … something threatening, something dangerous.
She was crying as she swiped away the photo of the bus ticket to one of a matchbook. The logo was outdated, the previous bar owner had long since sold out, but the name of the place was the same today as it was a decade ago: BAR RITA.
26
The Last Stand
Amber wiped at her eyes, never seeing Marcario Morales squeeze his fingers around the handle of the glass mug. In a move so fast it was nothing but a blur, he whirled on her, slamming the mug into her forehead. It hit her so hard, the handle cracked away from the rest of the mug. Her head jerked backward so hard, she and the barstool she sat on smashed into the floor. She hit the cement floor and her vision began to close in an ever-shrinking circle of blackness.
Morales wasted no time. He was standing over her, his voice sounding like it was in a long tunnel. His glasses were off now and the calm, quiet, innocent eyes she remembered from her first visit with him in prison were gone. Now only an angry demon was there, spit flying from his lips as he growled at her in rage.
“I’m never going back there,” he said, his breath shallow and ragged. “Not now, not ever. So, you can take that pipe dream with you to your grave.”
She fought unconsciousness knowing if she passed out, he would most certainly kill her. In the distance, she could feel people watching, but it didn’t seem like anyone was moving to help. Why weren’t they helping her? She wanted to scream, but when she opened her mouth, bile rose up in her throat, burning as it trickled from her lips.
Amber sensed that he was reaching under his shirt. He was getting something from his waistband. She wanted to get up. She wanted to run. She wanted to get away. She wanted to live. Marc leaned closer to her face, his breath smelling of beer.
“You couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” He hissed. “Eric Torres disrespected me. You don’t mess with another man’s girl. Everybody knows that.”
She was shaking her head, tears leaking from her eyes, running down her cheeks. “I won’t … no one knows I’m here. Let me walk away and I won’t say anything to anyone about— “
He slapped her hard, sending pain shooting into her jaw. And then she saw it … the gun. In her peripheral vision she could see a few people hiding down behind tables. That’s why they weren’t helping her. He was armed and clearly dangerous and they, wisely, were keeping their distance. She could only hope that the bartender had dialed 9-1-1. If she could keep him talking until the police arrived, maybe she would live.
“Marc, please,” she said. “I’m the only one who knows what really happened. They didn’t find anything in your apartment. Your conviction is still vacated. Without new evidence, they won’t have a reason to bring you back. But if you hurt me … if you … kill me, you’ll have another murder on your hands. You would get the death sentence for sure.”
He wavered, but just for an instant. Suddenly, the gun was in her face. He pressed the barrel under her chin.
“But if I kill you now, I can disappear without anyone ever knowing what happened to me. I’ll be long gone before your body gets cold.”
Her head ached. Her vision was still blurry and she was sure she probably had a concussion. But she had to buy more time. Over his shoulder, she could see the bartender crouched under a table. He put a finger to his lips and then waved it above his head in a circle. Cops, he mouthed, on the way.
“Why did you do it, Marc?” She asked. “Why did you kill Torres?”
For the first time, his evil visage softened. “He took my girl. All I ever wanted was to be with her. She didn’t go with me at first. She kept saying I was a bad boy.”
He sounded as if he was reliving his past. He was a young man wooing his girl.
“I worked so hard to buy her stuff, to show her I really loved her. And eventually, she loved me back. But then Eric came in and that bitch went with him. And she did it in front of all my friends. That ain’t right. I couldn’t lose face like that. I had to show her what happens when you disrespect me like that.”
He jammed the gun into the soft flesh under her chin. A yelp escaped her mouth.
“He paid the price for it. I shot him like a stray dog in the street,” he said, his finger ever tighter on the trigger. “Just like you’re going to die in this hole of a bar. Ain’t nobody going to find me after that.”
It was over. She knew he had gone over the edge and he was going to shoot her in the face. The silver lining, the saving grace was that she probably wouldn’t feel any pain … and she would be with her Daddy again in heaven.
In the fraction of a second before he pulled the trigger, the sudden silence was broken by a loud clap, and then a second, and then a third, and then a full-on round of applause from a single person.
“Astounding performance, my boy,” Minter Tweed said, his drawl in full effect. “You missed your calling. You should have been a thespian, rather than a two-bit thug.”
Amber tilted her head back to see him silhouetted in the front door of the bar. Sunlight glowed around him, his hair, gleaming white. His face was dark, but she could still see the broad smile he was wearing.
Morales raised his gun to point it at him, but Minter wagged
