Page 120 of Intent to Kill
The engine roared as it started. With her foot hard on the pedal, she revved to test its power before speeding off in a haze of smoke.
Her friends had given up. But she would never give up. If they weren’t going to fight, then she would. For her, it wasn’t over. Would never be. Not until they leeched the last breath from her lungs.
* * *
MAY 1991
They placed white roses on the fresh dirt above her grave. Standing around her gravestone, Dan, Paul, Carlos, and Adam were solemn. Their all-black suits were drawn by thick collars that they’d raised to hide their faces as much as possible. Though, by the time they’d arrived, the funeral was long over, and the cemetery near empty.
Nobody had heard from Mercedes in the week since it happened.
“It doesn’t feel real,” Dan said. The sun shined bright, its rays like glowing sticks of butter protruding through the evergreen trees. Not at all reflective of the mood Adam was in. Today, the weather had betrayed him.
“It’s a timely reminder of what this costs,” Adam said.
They stood in a half circle around Tia’s grave with bowed heads, silent to pay their respects. Dan was the first to let out a sob.
They all cut a look to him as a singular tear slid down his cheek and dripped from his chin. It was Carlos who put an arm around his friend and held him close for comfort.
“We killed Yani, then Antonio. We should’ve expected consequences,” Carlos said, throat tight as he stroked circles on Dan’s shoulder.
“We should have…but we didn’t,” Adam said.
Then, they bowed their heads in a minute of silence.
Silence was deafening. Especially for Adam, who tried to keep his brain moving so it wouldn’t stop long enough for his thoughts—that he was the reason they were here—to consume him.
He couldn’t think of anything to say for Tia. Not even in his head. What would Tia want? Probably the same thing he did. To keep his family safe.
So he wished for the safety of the last of Tia’s girls. And then promised himself he would be the one to fulfill that wish.
“Adam,” Paul said, patting him on the shoulder. With his eyes, Paul pointed across the cemetery road where Mercedes was perched under a giant oak tree in an elegant black dress.
Adam exchanged a look with Paul. He nodded to Paul, and then started the walk to where she was standing, hands in the pockets of his pants.
“Hello,” he said. He waited patiently for her to reply, but she didn’t. “Do you want to place a flower?”
She shook her head.
“I can place it for you.”
She shook her head again.
“...Are you...okay?”
She refused to make eye contact, looking anywhere else. “How could I be? My friend is dead.”
“I’m sorry,” Adam said, hanging his head, his eyes still bloodshot.
“You should be.” She let the tears through, though it wasn’t pain displayed on her face, only rage. She did that a lot. Hid her pain behind rage, as if she could banish her feelings like the devil to hell. “You promised me you’d never let anyone die for you.”
“I did say that.” Adam could only muster a whisper as his throat croaked. “I’m sorry.”
“You promised that we could protect her.” Mercedes stepped away from the tree and down the curb to face him.
“I did.” Adam twisted his face away. When he turned back, he reached a hand for her, but she smacked it away. His hand shook as he withdrew it.
She paced, whipping quickly back and forth, like she was about to say something difficult. “I want to stop.”
