My pocket buzzes as Angie blows up my phone. She’s probably wondering where dinner is, so I speedwalk through the hospital lobby, ignoring the vibration as I exit. Supper will be a little late, and Angie will chew me out the moment I walk through the door, but it was worth it to see Mindy. Now my thoughts are at ease. She has a long road of recovery ahead of her, but at least she’s alive, and I feel like her squeezing my hand tonight was her way of forgiving me. 

I’m steps away from the sliding doors when someone calls my name. It’s Neil and Chloe flagging me down with Nadia behind them, which is perfect since I may or may not have a bone to pick with her—starting with why the fuck she told the detectives so much information about me!

“Are you coming from seeing Mindy?” Chloe kisses my cheeks and gives a quick embrace.

Neil flashes a sad smile, and his eyes look heavy. Mindy is like a sister to him, so I can only imagine the stress he's been under. Nadia, on the other hand, is busy typing on her phone.

“Yeah,” I reply to Chloe. “She squeezed my hand. I think that’s a good sign.”

“Did she really?” Neil clutches his chest, relief in his expression. “Maybe they’ll take her off all that medicine soon, and she can tell us who shot her.”

“Richie shot her,” I say.

“What? How do you know?” Neil shakes his head. “The cops said there was likely an intruder. They’re not done investigating, so they don’t know for sure yet, but they said it looks like someone staged Richie’s suicide.” 

“Was anything stolen?” I ask.

“No. I don’t think so…”

“Why would an intruder go there to kill and not steal anything? Think about it, Neil. Mindy was there to discuss their divorce. Richie is a psycho and possessive. He did this to her.”

Neil furrows his brows. “As much of an asshole as Richie was, he loved my cousin. I can’t see him hurting her.”

“You don't show love by giving your wife multiple black eyes,” Chloe scoffs. “I saw the one he gave her weeks ago, and Mindy told me it wasn’t the first time he put his hands on her. So, if you’re asking me, I don’t care how he died. I’m just glad he’s dead.”

"But Mindy said it was an accident." Neil's brows wrinkle as he wrestles with Chloe's words, so I clear my throat and pipe up.

“He gave her that black eye the night I kicked him out of Penthouse."

"You sure?"

"Yes. Isn’t that right, Nadia?” I peer at her, and her gaze slides up to mine from her phone.

“Right…”

“Now that I have your attention.” I pivot to face her and fold my arms. “Why did you tell Detective Shapiro about that night at the club? Or anything about me, for that matter?”

Nadia’s shoulders tense. “Because she asked me.”

“Why?” 

Nadia shrugs. “She wanted to know Mindy’s timeline leading up to meeting with Richie, so I told her she met with you.”

“But how did that lead to you telling her about me booting Richie from the club or how he threatened me?” 

“She asked if Richie had enemies.” Nadia shrugs again, and my eyes widen.

“So you named me? Nadia! Now they’re sniffing around as if I’m a suspect.” 

 “Well, are you?” She crosses her arms, one brow cocked, and Neil reprimands her in their language, but she doesn't seem to care as she stares at me.

“You know I care about Mindy,” I glare at Nadia. “I’d never lay a finger on her, let alone hurt her.” 

“Oh, please. Didn’t you cheat on her?” Nadia huffs, but Chloe comes to my rescue.

“They were friends with benefits, so technically, not cheating,” she says. “And why are you getting defensive with Miguel? Richie is the wife-beating asshole. Not him.”

“Because he broke Mindy’s heart!” Nadia barks, and Chloe fires back.

“Yeah, well, a broken heart is better than being laid up in the hospital because your ex-husband tried to kill you.” 

“We don’t know that,” Neil says.

“Wanna bet?” Chloe says.

Nadia throws her hands in the air with a grunt, “I don’t care about any of this shit. All I know is my best friend almost died. She coded while in surgery, and they almost couldn’t bring her back to life. So I don’t care if the cops are eyeing you, Miguel. Or if Richie did it. He’s dead. Good riddance. The only thing I care about is Mindy!”

“I get it,” I say. “Doesn’t mean I appreciate you painting a target on my back.”

“It’s not like I was gossiping,” Nadia says. “A detective asked me questions, and I answered, so how about you fuck right off, Miguel!”

Neil gasps, “Nadia.”

“Fuck you too!”

“What the hell did I do?”

“Oh, you know.” Nadia’s eyes flick to Chloe, then back to him. “But whatever. I’m going back upstairs.”

Turning on her heels, she walks away, holding out her middle finger. Real classy. I am also confused.

“What the hell just happened?” I turn to Neil, and he sighs deeply.

“Nadia and I used to mess around. So she’s jealous of Chloe.”

“Of me?” she laughs

“Yeah…” Neil laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s usually the three of us—Mindy, Nadia, and me. Sometimes people even think I’m their gay sidekick, but now you’ve come along, Chloe, which messes up our trio dynamic. Nadia is jealous. Plus, I think she still has feelings for me, and I don’t blame her. My dick is hard to forget.”

Chloe snorts and smacks his chest. “Seriously?” 

“I had to lighten the mood.” Neil shrugs. “But come on, I am pretty good in bed, right?” 

“Yes, amazing.” Chloe rolls her eyes with a laugh.

“I get the jealousy,” I say. “But why is Nadia spitting venom at me?” 

Neil places his hand on my shoulder and sighs. “The last twenty-four hours have been a lot. Mindy almost died, so Nadia has all of this emotional energy and took it out on you. Easy target.”

“Well, I hope it doesn’t bite me in the ass. I meant what I said. That detective came to my house and made accusations. My mom thinks she was fishing, but I got a bad feeling.” 

“For what it’s worth, I know you would never hurt Mindy,” Neil says.

Good. At least someone believes I could never.

∆∆∆

It’s been a few days since I visited Mindy in the hospital, and I’ve been able to get some sleep—feel a pinch normal. Thankfully, Chloe has kept me in the loop, and I learned that Mindy opened her eyes this morning. She’s still under heavy pain medication, so no one has dropped the bomb about her being paralyzed, and my heart already aches about how she’ll take the news. I can’t imagine waking up in a hospital and learning that my life will never be the same because I can’t walk. 

It’s my fault.

I should have never made that deal with Richie.

“Where is your head right now?” Gwen asks, and my attention flicks to her. 

For a moment, I forgot that I was sitting in her office for one of our sessions.

“Mindy,” I say.

“What about her?”

“I wish I could have stopped what happened. They say she won't be able to walk again.”

“It will be difficult as she transitions into a new life in a wheelchair, but you’re not responsible for her ex-husband shooting her, Miguel. Unless…” Gwen waves her hand. “You know what, never mind.”

“No, what were you going to say?” 

“Nothing. If it’s related to whatever illegal shenanigans you’re involved with, I don’t want to know.”

“That’s fair. I guess it’s a guilt I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. That is my penance.”

“Sometimes we have burdens we wear like an albatross. The guilt may never go away, but you can heal by learning what to do differently in the future. We are capable of continuous evolution. Like snakes shedding their old skin.”

“I’m a snake?”

“You can be. You’ve made a lot of progress. I’m glad that we’re able to have productive discussion now. Instead of you fighting me at every step.”

“Gwen.” I run a hand over my head, chewing her words. “You always give great advice, but what the fuck does wearing an albatross mean?”

She chuckles, “It comes from an old folklore poem. A group of fishermen go out to sea, and during their voyage, an albatross follows their boat. This particular bird was believed to bring good luck. However, one fisherman decided to shoot the albatross, which riled up the rest of the crew. Killing the bird meant bad luck for them. So they forced this fisherman to wear the dead albatross around his neck as punishment. Unfortunately, it didn’t prevent their bad luck. Each crewmate began to die of sickness, and the fisherman had to watch it happen. His actions caused their misfortune.”

“Am I the fisherman? For the last few weeks, my actions have done nothing but hurt everyone else.”

“Our actions will always have a rippling effect on others, so we must take ownership when we cause harm. From there, we can make amends, but we can only do that if we choose to change and not repeat those mistakes. You’re taking ownership, Miguel. It’s a good step forward.”

The doorbell chimes through an intercom in Gwen’s office, and she glances at her watch. “That must be my Amazon order. Excuse me. I want to grab it before someone steals my package.”

“Go for it. Just holler if you need me to fight a porch thief.” 

“Will do,” Gwen laughs and exits the office.

The door remains open as I sit here, meditating on our conversation. My impulsiveness has turned me into that fisherman. In my need to protect, I’ve only made things worse through knee-jerk reactions. But who am I kidding? A lot of it wasn’t a need to save. It was a need to pound my chest like a gorilla demonstrating dominance. What if Richie’s threat had been an empty one that night at Penthouse when I kicked him out? I was a nobody to him. Maybe he would have forgotten about me. Instead, I took matters into my own hands by kidnapping him, which caused a rippling effect that almost killed Mindy.

Leaning forward, with elbows on my knees, I rub my temples.

But I can change. 

I can do better.

When Mindy leaves the hospital, I will help her with physical therapy. I will help her recover. That’s how I’ll make it up to her.

Amid my wallowing, my ears twitch at the sound of Gwen’s voice. Something isn’t right, so I skyrocket to my feet and speed through the hallway. Gwen is at the door, and her arms are stretched as she blocks a man from entering. Daylight spills past, so all I can see is the silhouette of a man in an oversized peacoat. 

“You must leave!” she shouts.

I dash over, but I’m too late as the man barrels his way inside, causing Gwen’s arms to buckle. She stumbles back, and he barges right past her, centering himself in the living room with hands on hips. I swear I know this cheesy-looking fucker from somewhere.

“If I have to turn this place upside down looking for her, I will!” 

“Hey!” I step between him and Gwen. “You need to leave.”

“Miguel,” Gwen warns. “I have this handled. Go back to my office.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with this psycho!” 

“Angie!” the man yells, and my attention jerks to him. “Angie, I know you’re here, so come out.”

It finally dawns on me. This forty-something dick-face is the same guy whose ass I almost beat at Penthouse—Angie’s ex-husband, Jeremiah. He charges toward the stairs, yelling for her, so I block his path, but he shoves me. It’s a weak push, so I shove back. He trips over his expensive loafers and into the nearest wall, knocking down a picture frame. It crashes with glass shattering.

“I’m calling the police!” Gwen shouts, phone in hand, as she dials.

This stops him in his tracks.  He smooths down his collar and snarls, “Good. While you’re at it, tell them Angie vandalized her apartment—the one I pay for.”

A laugh explodes from my belly, “Great, so you saw that she discovered the hidden cameras and microphones inside the walls. Pretty sure spying on someone like a pervert is illegal.” 

He looks at me disgusted and practically spits his words, “Who are you?” 

“That’s not important. I’m sure the police would love to know why you were spying on your ex-wife. Hell, even your fiance might want to know.” 

“Is she fucking you?" he asks. "Because let me tell you, that’s what she does. She finds a gullible idiot like you with money, waves her pussy around, then steals everything. She’ll do the same to you.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I don’t have money then.” I narrow my eyes. “And neither does she since you control it. She can’t even buy tampons without your approval, but you like that, don’t you? You sick fuck.” 

“It’s called a conservatorship, asshole.” 

“No, it’s called a man with an inflated ego, a crooked penis, and a perversion to control women.”

Jeremiah takes two steps forward, but I don’t move or flinch. Instead, I fold my arms and stare his ass down as he jabs his finger at me. 

“You watch what you say to me,” he snarls.

“Or what?”

“You have no idea how many ways I could make your life miserable.”

“Is that a threat?” I ask, my gaze sliding to Gwen. “You heard him threaten me, right?”

“Sure did. And I’m recording everything.” Gwen holds up her phone, the camera angled at us. 

“Oh, that wasn’t a threat,” Jeremiah laughs, its coldness sending a shiver down my spine as he narrows his eyes and breathes in my face. “This is a threat: the next time I see you, you won’t see me coming until you’re gasping for air with a plastic bag over your head.”

“Thank you.” I smile.

“For what?”

“For saying that on camera. Now get the fuck out!”

I grab him by the lapels and drag his ass to the front door. He takes a few swings at me, but kicking assholes out of Penthouse is my specialty, and this is no different. His stupid loafers slide off as he digs his heels into the floor, fighting me with each step. Yet, I fling him through the door and onto the stoop like the bag of trash that he is. Gwen picks up his shoes and chucks them at him with impressive aim as they slam into his while he gets to his feet. 

“Don’t come back here,” I bark. “And stay away from Angie.”

“You think you won.” Jeremiah dusts himself off. “I have the connections and the means to make your life miserable. So if you’re smart, you’d stay away from Angie.” He turns to Gwen. “That goes for you too. Helping her will only be bad for you. I know she’s been coming here. So if I were you, I’d cut ties. She’s not worth losing your practice.” 

“I’ve got that on video now, too.” Gwen aims her phone and steps through the doorway. “You can make all the threats you want, but no one, and I mean no one, will push me around or scare me. Now get off my porch.” 

She steps back inside and shuts the door on him. Not even a slam. Just a soft click. Gwen said what she said, and I like that she didn’t lose her cool or let him get under her skin. 

“So that was Angie’s ex-husband, huh?” Gwen shakes her head.

“Yeah, a real piece of work.” 

She rubs her furrowed brows. “Why does he look so familiar? I’ve seen him before.” 

“He’s an asshole. All assholes alike.”

Gwen drops her hand and scowls. “I’m serious, Miguel.” She begins pacing, then stops, her eyes meeting mine as they widen with a thought. “It was at a fundraiser! He was escorting some guy in a slick suit around the tables, like a politician. The guy’s name was Reddy something…” 

“Rohan Reddy?”

“Yes!” She snaps her finger. “How did you guess?”

“Because Rohan’s cousin was Richie Reddy—Mindy’s ex-husband.” 

“Wait…” Gwen holds up her hand. “So Angie’s ex-husband works for Rohan Reddy, who is related to Mindy's ex?”

“Yep, and Richie was affiliated with the Hellions who—”

“Stop! I don’t want to know anything else about how or why they’re connected. Especially if it's illegal.”

“I don't blame you.”

“So this means…” Gwen chews her lip, a sense of worry that wasn’t there before. “Jeremiah wasn’t bluffing. He is a well-connected man.”

I take a few steps and place my hands on her shoulders. “Hey, there’s no way I’ll let that asshole mess with you.”

“Miguel.” She shakes her head and shrugs away. “You wanting to be my hero is a nice thought, but I need you to focus on you. I’m a grown woman. I can handle the self-righteous pricks of the world the legal way.” 

“Well, the offer still stands if you ever feel like walking on the wild side.”

“I won’t.”

A few minutes later, a police car pulls up to the sidewalk, and my damn stomach sinks when I peer through the blinds. Detective Shapiro and her partner, Detective Archibald, stroll up the walkway, then chime the door. I should sneak out through the backyard, but then how would I explain to Gwen why I left so suddenly? Besides, I’m pretty sure I have to make a statement about Jeremiah and his threats. 

Shit.

Whatever. I’ve got nothing to hide. I don’t regret killing Richie, and I’d do it again, only I’d intervene sooner. Better yet, I’d never make a deal with him. It’s not like I got the information I needed about the Abramovitz party anyway.

Gwen opens the door and welcomes them inside. She motions to me to make an introduction, but I don’t need one. Detective Shapiro’s eyes brighten, and her mouth parts in a grin like a cat that just caught a mouse.

“Well, look who we’ve got here,” she says to Detective Archibald. “We were just talking about you on the ride over! We need you to come down to the station for some questioning.”