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fear fluttering from my stomach. With his giant, fat fist, he gripped the handle of the locked security door and pulled the damn thing open with ease.
    I stood there, in front of those three damned criminals, with my mouth hanging open.
    My mom’s frigging cheap door would literally be the death of me.
    Standing in front of my fat-fuck of an older cousin and his two cronies, I became pants-pissingly aware of just how miniscule I was compared to them. I had none of the rolling muscles on their arms; nothing even close to resembling a barrel chest, and with barely enough strength to beat a fifteen-year-old white girl in a fight (if I was lucky).
    My field of vision darkened the moment my cousin stepped towards me.
    My heart virtually stopped when he pulled me in to a crushing hug.
    He smelled of cigarettes and cheap beer, and if it wasn’t for the fact that my brain function wasn’t at its best, I would have tried my damnedest to break out of that embrace.
    Not that my scrawny ass would have had much success.
    I sucked in a lungful of clean, fresh air as soon as he let me go, and I almost collapsed when a giant hand from one of his compatriots came slamming down on my shoulder.
    Rolando turned me to face him. “I’m going to be indebted to you for the rest of my life, Eddie.”
    “Danny,” one of the other guys began, “He would have been proud of the shit you pulled that night on El Coyote.”
    “God rest his soul,” the other muttered, making the sign of the cross.
    “And God willing, that piece of shit El Coyote is burning in the deepest pit of hell right now for what he did to my esé.” There was a fire in Rolando’s eyes that scared the living bejesus out of me, which wasn’t helped by the fact that I still wasn’t entirely sure if I was in the clear. Mafia guys give each other the kiss of death, right? Maybe the Cartel has something similar with hugs.
    Rolando threw his arm around my shoulders and didn’t guide so much as force me away from the safety of my home. “Come with us. I’m going to start making it up to you right now.”
    ~~~~~
    About a half-hour later, we arrived at El Santo de Autos – a quiet little garage on the other side of town. As Rolando pulled up into the garage, I immediately recognized the hatchback we parked beside. It was Estella’s business car; the one whose windshield I’d broke running down the drug lord. Only, the windshield was fine. And not a dent or broken headlight in sight.
    “Can’t even tell, right?” Rolando said as we stepped out of the car. “My homies here did a great job.”
    “Pro bono,” one of them said with a grin. “For our bro.” I assumed he was talking about Rol, but they were both smiling at me.
    Shit, just who had I killed that made all these scary motherfuckers like me so much? He must have been one drug lord to rule them all.
    “Last thing I wanted was Estella losing her job. You know, accidents happen, but she’s only new there. At least this way, her company doesn’t have to worry about it.” I was shocked by the sincere tone in Rolando’s voice. I’d always thought the guy had lacked even the most rudimentary forms of human empathy.
    “And you guys are the sweetest for doing it.”
    Fuck me running; there was Estella, walking up from the garage in dark sunglasses and a tight blue dress that made my dick want to burst out of my jeans. She gave each of us a peck on the cheek and walked over to her car. “You’re like artists. No one will ever know what happened to it!”
    To my surprise, the huge “cronies” were grinning like schoolkids; their faces a little red. “It was nothing, Miss Estella,” one said.
    “Anything for the fearless lady who helped take El Coyote out,” the other added.
    She laughed. “I won’t take credit for any of that.” She stood behind me and massaged my shoulders. I hoped to God no one would see the hard lump in my pants. “This crazy guy’s the only one you should be thanking.”
    “Speaking