Shooting Scars (The Artists Trilogy #2)

I took in a deep breath. “Ellie, I know for whatever reason you must trust Javier or have some sort of connection to him. I know you believe that what you’re doing is right. I understand the vengeance you want with this man and I know what you’d do to get it. I only want you to realize that you don’t have to do any of this if you don’t want to. You can leave here with me and Gus, tonight. We can put this behind us.”


“Would killing him be so wrong?” she said quietly. I had to fight the urge to wrap my arm around her and bring her into me, to hold her close, tell her that I loved her, that I wouldn’t let another thing happen to her. I’d take another bullet for her. I’d be here no matter what she chose, even if she wanted another lover, another life. I would still be there when she fell. When she wanted to run. When she wanted to come home.

“Do you feel that killing him would change anything?” I asked. “Would it make a difference in your life, for the better?”

She mulled it over, her eyes searching aimlessly while the wheels in her beautiful brain turned. Whatever she’d say, I would understand. Because I knew what it was to have that anger so deep inside you, you think the only way you’ll ever be rid of it is to be rid of the person who put it there. But then you only realize later on what the truth is – that no one put that anger there. No one except you. And you have to live with yourself while someone else is dead or suffering or destroyed. Another body to add to the funeral pyre. Another weight on your already laden soul.

Finally she said, “I don’t know. I’ve wanted this for so long, this retribution for myself. That if I kill him, I’ll be free of everything that’s held me down and told me where to fit in this world. Told me what I am. That if I kill him, the man who made me bad, I’ll be good. Sometimes …” a tear rolled down her cheek, the dam breaking, the release. She sniffed, “Sometimes I’d do anything to be good.”

Damn it. God damn it. My heart was breaking all over again, just when I thought I didn’t have anything inside me to break.

“Come here,” I said, leaning forward and bringing her down onto me. She lay with her head on my chest, sobbing quietly. “Hey, remember when we were kids and we’d lie like this on my trampoline?”

She sniffled. “I don’t remember crying back then.”

“No. No we never cried in front of each other. We were too cool for that. It didn’t mean we weren’t crying inside. Or for each other.” I cupped my good hand behind her head and held it there, took in a deep breath. “Ellie, I will help you with whatever you need to do. You won’t have to go through this alone. If you want to kill Travis, for whatever reasons you have, I will be there for you. And when you’re done, if you let me, I will take you back home. And if you want to back out of it now, if you want to disappear tonight and never look back, Gus and I will help you with that too. Whatever you’ve done or thought or planned or given up on, it doesn’t change the fact that we came here for you. We came here to help you, Ellie, in whatever way you choose.”

She stiffened on top of me, her limbs going rigid.

“You can start by hiding back in the closet.”

“What?”

She sprang up, eyes flying to the window. “Go now, to the closet, under the bed, hide. Somewhere! Go!”

There was no way I would fit under the bed quick enough, especially with my arm, so I quickly ducked myself back in the closet, sticking my good fingers through the slats and pulling it closed just as there was a knock at the door.

“Miss Eleanor Willis?” came a muffled voice.

I held my body as still as possible, my breath quiet and tried to look through the slits without bumping into the hangers again.

From the angle of my view, I could see Ellie getting up and going over to the door answering it.

“Hi, Enrico,” she sounded drunk, a little too drunk. An act.

“Miss Willis,” Enrico said. A large pause. I could tell he was looking at her oddly. “Can I come in?”

“Am I allowed to say no?”

Another pause. “No, miss. I’m sorry.”

“Fine, come in.” She walked away lazily and plopped down on the bed.

The door shut and he stopped in the middle of the room.

“What happened here?”

“Girls just want to have fun.” She punctuated that with a giggle. She was going on a bit too strong and I had to wince, hoping Enrico bought it.

“Are you alone?” He started to walk to the patio entrance, the one I came in through. He tried the door and I was glad I remembered to lock it.

“Of course I’m alone,” she said. “Least I was until you showed up. Can’t a girl have a few drinks in peace?”

He turned around and came back, stopping at the foot of the bed. Through the serrated slivers of my view, I could see his shoes and pants were both immaculately white. Enrico seemed like a nice enough boy when checking in, but he was obviously a friend of Javier’s which vetoed all innocent appearances.

“Miss Willis, your neighbors reported people yelling in here.”

Pause. “So? Was I keeping them awake? It’s not even nine o’clock.”

“You were the one yelling?”

“Yes, so what? Free country, isn’t Mexico?”

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