Heartless People

TWENTY-FOUR

He pulls a knife, you pull a gun,
he sends one of yours to the hospital,
you send one of his to the morgue . . .

~ Al Capone

LAUREN

"Whats a five letter word for mortality?" I asked the man in the hospital cast in front of me.

He said nothing, but that had to be due to all the morphine. Smirking, I snapped my fingers and filled in the spaces of the newspaper crossword.

"Thats right, death," I said to him. "It seems even God is mocking you Commissioner . . . ex-Commissioner now, right? People don't like suicidal
cops."

He just glared as I continued with my game.

"Seven letter word for ineffective. Don't tell me, failure. Seriously, this is todays crossword. Can you believe it? Its like they made it about your life."

"Is that why you're here, Jauregui, to kick a man when he is down? I'm not shocked," he hissed out, but I wasn't sure if that was due to the pain or because he was ticked off.

"I don't kick a man when he is down. I put a bullet in his skull." You should know that. I sighed, placing the paper down.

"Then kill me already," he yelled, making me want to roll my eyes.

"Not until you answer a few of my questions," I replied, rising to my feet. I reached over and grabbed his oxygen mask.

Taking it off his bruised face, he took a deep breath before it turned into short gasps for air. He reached over for the nurse call button so I pushed it for him.

Once, then twice, and then a few more times for the heck of it.

"This side of the hospital has been cleared, so lets chat." I grinned, giving him a few seconds of air before pulling the mask from his face again.

"Go to hell," he breathed out.

"My wife is a raging homicidal hormonal pregnant woman. I sleep with hell." I sighed, giving him air again.

"Give me a second to shit bricks of sadness."

And I laughed, too, before grabbing the pillow from behind his head, pressing it against his face.

"I'm not in the mood for a smartass," I snapped at him. When I took the pillow off his face, he coughed like a dying chain smoker.

He held on to my hand as I fed him his air. "Lets start with something simple. Why did you jump out of your hotel room? That could kill, you know."

He tried to hold on to the air but I simply ripped it from him.

"You burned down my house."

"I wasn't charged, tried, or arrested for anything."

"I know it was you! You Jauregui's destroy everything." His voice broke, and again, I rolled my eyes. "But you warned me and I should have . . . you warned me and so it's my fault they died. That little girl, you sick mother! I told you about her! It was me. I-I—"

"Please don't get emotional, that was only my first question." I needed him alive right now.

"No games, what do you want from me? You have taken everything." He coughed, leaning back on his bed.

"I want to know everything you have on the Valero." He laughed liked a mad man, and when he did, I held the pillow to his face again. He struggled until he was too weak, and it was then that I let him go.

"Let's do this again." I held on to his face. "Tell me about Amory, Saige, and Vance or so help me God, I will make you wish you had died. I will make sure
you are alive and well, trapped in your own fucking body like a jail cell. Each day, I will make sure someone personally gives me a patch of your skin until you are nothing but an open wound. What . . . do . . . you . . . know?"