love or revenge

deeper secrets

Chapter 4

I woke up in the morning late.

I threw on my clothes, scarfed down breakfast, and ran out the door.

I had never been so eager for a mission before.

Getting into the studio, I was startled nobody was there. It was oddly quiet. I walked in and saw only the receptionist.

I had to ask.

“Sorry, where is everybody?” I questioned.

“We are closed for today,” she answered flatly.

“But the studio is clearly open,” I said.

“It is open because I have to be here to inform potential customers, so we don’t lose face,” she answered.

I nodded, turned, and left.

I had time for myself. I hadn’t slept well the night before, so I planned on spending my day catching up.

But then… the message from last night hit me hard.

I couldn’t just let that warning go. I had to find out more.

I messaged Brimain’s information expert, Jack:

“I need all the information on Isabella Hernandez. Deliver by 10 a.m.”

I slept off while waiting for the information to get to me.

I woke up to a buzz from my phone a message from Jack, a digital file.

I opened it. It read:

ISABELLA GOMEZ HERNANDEZ

Age: 24

Occupation: Professional Artist

Studio: 7th Street

Relations: Mateo Hernandez (Brother)

Parents: Deceased

Relationship Status: Single

Criminal Record: None

Note:

Father was an enforcer for Lord Grenzo.

Brother is currently a low-level enforcer.

No direct involvement in criminal activities, but linked through family.

I stared at the screen.

She was connected to the underworld.

I couldn’t believe it. She looked so… innocent.

I had to see her. I needed to clarify some things but I had to wait till tomorrow.

It was the longest night ever. Thoughts going through my mind simultaneously, spiraling and tangling, gave me a pounding headache.

The night was finally over. I was up before dawn.

I moved fast. I needed to get these thoughts out into words and only one person could help me make sense of everything: Isabella.

I got to the studio. I could see her body from the windows; it was bent over her drawing board.

I entered the studio. She didn’t flinch. She calmly said:

“Back again?”

“ back again?” I questioned

“ I thought you were someone else” she replied

“ so you have another handsome devil, visiting you” I joked

“ No silly, it was an older man, he comes here every day at 10 and inquires about my painting” she paused, catching her breath.

“ He always seems to see a deeper meaning to all my pieces, even deeper than I understood, I hope you will meet him one day he is so nice” she finally explained

“ well, just be careful, he sounds like a creep to me”

“ I know how to take care of myself, why are you here?” She retorted

“The paintings help me stay calm. But it seems you are busy… I’ll leave you to it,” I said half-heartedly, hoping she’d call me back.

“You said they help you stay calm, right? Why don’t you stay?” she said, giggling slightly. “We don’t want a paranoid, angry guy out on the streets. Plus… I could use your company.”

God, I loved her sense of humor.

“Wine or whiskey?” she asked.

“Wine,” I answered. I didn’t want to be high now I wanted to be intoxicated by her perfume. Lavender and roses a nice blend.

I wanted to let my face and hands get lost in her hair, looking into her blue eyes.

I wanted to let my hands get lost in the hem of her

“Here,” she said.

My fantasies were interrupted by Isabella, who had just handed me a glass of wine.

“Thank you,” I said as I collected the glass.

From then on, we talked. We laughed. Our conversation was based mostly on past and future experiences.

I told her of my Mafia background, how I was the enforcer of the Brimain Cartel, how I was a bloodthirsty maniac when angry but a chill guy when I was with her. I told her I planned on leaving the cartel, but was waiting for the right time.

She told me how she’s the sister to Mateo (of the Brimain Cartel), how she hated the Mafia world and stayed far from it, how she rented a shop just so she could make a living without depending on what she called “blood money,” how she planned to marry and settle in a quiet world.

We connected on that bit. We both wanted peaceful lives.

As I thought of that, I felt a touch on my fingers… then I felt something. Looking down, I saw a brush in my hands. I looked at her, bewildered.

“I paint when I’m afraid,” she said, clearly seeing my confusion.

“Why? What happened?” I asked frantically, my voice low and urgent.

“I’m afraid I’ll never escape the Mafia life. I’m sure you have the same fear. So I want us to both paint and forget our fears,” she explained.

As we went toward the drawing board, I saw a shadow move across the window. Then a car engine revved outside it was too close for comfort.

I was ready. With my revolver pulled out, I went toward the door, Isabella following closely. I went out, looking around, while Isabella checked inside.

“No one inside,” she affirmed after checking.

“Seems I was just paranoid,” I said, feeling embarrassed.

We turned to go inside just the air and then a loud sound as a bullet shattered into the door. Followed closely by a rain of bullets.

I shielded Isabella as we made for the door. I was fighting back, shooting as much as I could while running.

We got into the studio safely, but the bullet rain continued.

“Stay down,” I ordered.

We laid low until the bullets stopped. Isabella was visibly shaken after the attack.

I took her in my arms, keeping her close, trying to stabilize her. We were in each other’s arms for seconds maybe more.

After she was stable, we let go of each other. I proceeded to straighten myself up, limping across the studio to give her privacy as she fixed herself up.

As I moved away, I saw clearly a card it was an Ace. The general symbol of the Manor Rojos.

She noticed my injury. I was shot in the leg, about a meter from my thigh. It didn’t hurt too much.

“Sit down. I’ll get a first aid box,” she told me.

“Okay,” I said, straining as I sat.

She got the box and, with a surprising softness, began working.

Her face twisted as she worked ,she was clearly disgusted. It was gut-wrenching to see her that way.

I was feeling nauseated. The room stank of gunpowder and blood, mixing to form a disgusting smell.

Using tongs to pull out the bullet, she used a cloth doused in whiskey to dab the blood around the wound. Adding pressure, she dressed it with a plaster, then held everything together with a bandage.

“Thank you,” I nodded when she was done dressing the wound.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

“Sorry for what?” I replied, confused.

“They weren’t here for you. But me. My brother’s been indebted to a man by the name Rico. That’s his gang that attacked,” she explained.

I just nodded in acknowledgement.

The story didn’t add up. No Mafia group ever goes after family of their enemies it’s an unwritten rule between all groups.

I wondered why they attacked. I didn’t recognize any of the attackers. They were probably from one of the other gangs.

In the end, it didn’t matter. A civilian was attacked the police needed to be informed.

I called the police and told them everything that happened. I slipped away silently before they arrived.

She couldn’t find him anymore. She looked around, visibly shaken by the sudden appearance of the police. She was questioned and answered truthfully but against her better judgment, she left out the part that she was with an enforcer.

I felt bad for leaving her in such a situation, but I was a wanted gangster. I couldn’t risk being caught.

Isabella was attacked today because of me. I had to stay away for her own safety.

I drove to the other side of town to Gonzalo’s house.

“Yo, bro! Been long,” Gonzalo said as we went in for the bro hug.

“Yeah, man. Been busy,” I replied.

“I thought you were avoiding me,” he said jokingly.

“There’s always two sides to the story, right?” I replied, chuckling.

“Let’s go inside,” Gonzalo suggested.

“You still have that whiskey, right?” I asked.

“Always have it. Just in case you came around,” Gonzalo said, smirking.

We made for the door. Right beside the house was a big bush and I heard rustling from it. I saw a weird-looking man in the bush.

I yelled:

“Hey!!! Who the f**k is in that bush?”

Hearing this, he took off running. I followed closely behind. He ran ahead in my sight but out of reach.

I felt like I was flying, gliding effortlessly past people, while focusing on my target. I felt superior.

I was catching up and he was slowing down.

He slowed, only to speed up again. Turning right, then left, then right again making it difficult to keep up.

I turned right, left, right again but just as I made the last turn, something caught my eyes.

Isabella.

What was she doing here?

And worse of all with Derek from Los Manor Rojos.