Diego's POV

The click of Armando’s gun echoed through the room. I released the golden doorknob, sighing at how close I had been to getting out of there without any bloodshed.

Then I turned to face the son of a bitch I’d embarrassed too many times to count already.

He and his stooge were both bristling.

Both had guns in their hands, trained in our direction.

“A gun, Armando?” I asked. “Really? And after I agreed to your terms, no less.”

Armando narrowed his eyes. “Trying to goad ...