Casa Corinthos: A Dark Series Interlude Between Books 2 and 3

Chapter 3

Cold. Still. Dark. Empty.

Jason looked away from Moreno's wide-open lifeless black eyes to the world around him. As he took in his surroundings, he was dimly aware that the old, abandoned warehouse was just as dead to the world as Antonio Moreno now was. In an odd sort of way, the idea struck him as funny, but as he began to laugh, bile lodged in his throat. Moving quickly, Jason bent over a rusty trashcan and heaved his breakfast and lunch into it. When he was done, he took a moment to catch his breath.

Moreno was dead. Without the help of Sonny or Johnny or anyone else, Jason had taken him out. His blue eyes darkened as he turned back to face the body. A tiny hole marred the man's expensive silk shirt, reminding Jason that the other man's heart would beat no more. Crimson red blood was just now beginning to flow from the back of Moreno's body. The blood would forever mark the place of death, Jason silently told himself, and a shudder swept over him.

He had killed Moreno.

Remorse and revulsion consumed him. The lifeless eyes continued to stare at him, taunting him for his emotions. Unable to stand the silent jeers any longer, Jason knelt and lowered the eyelids. The change should have given him a bit of comfort, but it didn't. The battle still raged inside him.

A part of him knew that Moreno's death was inevitable. The telephone call to Sonny and the anger they both felt at Reynaldo's massacre deemed that Moreno would pay for his sin. The moment Jason had learned of Reynaldo's death, he had known that he would take part in avenging it. Hell, he had even known that he might be the trigger man, so why was there a war taking place inside of him? He wondered.

The answer was simple. He didn't know it would be so easy. The swift change from Quartermaine to Morgan scared the hell out of him. When he left Keesha to go for some air, he was Quartermaine. Pure and simple. He was a man in grief, who needed some time alone before he went back home to his wife and kids. He had no idea that his Harley-Davidson would lead him to the south end of the docks—to the almost exact spot where his former bodyguard and successor's body was found. And he for damn sure had no idea that the man responsible would be there alone...gloating over his success...rejoicing in another man's death over a so-called piece of territory.

Swallowing back more bile, Jason began to wrap up Moreno's body in a tattered blanket he had found. Careful not to touch anything else, his mind began to bombard him with 'shoulda's.' He shoulda turned the bike around when he saw Moreno. He shoulda ignored Morena's gibes and taunts. He shoulda remembered that he was Jason Morgan-Quartermaine, and he shoulda disregarded the cold, emotionless voice inside him that compelled him to get off the bike. He shoulda ignored the voice that guided him across the dock and assaulted Moreno with a few choice gibes of his own.

But, he didn't. He couldn't. The voice of Jason Morgan couldn't be ignored and before he could even attempt to control that cold side of him, Moreno was dead at his feet. The act had been self-defense. There was no doubt about that. Moreno had pulled his piece. Jason had grabbed for it. They had struggled. A shot was fired and now, Moreno was dead.

So, why was he dumping the body in the lake?

Moreno's body hit the water with a quiet splash as Jason asked himself that pertinent question. But even as the question was asked, the answer had already been there. He lived, breathed, and loved the answer. Keesha.

She could never know that he was there, and that Morgan was still inside of him. He couldn't risk losing her. He would do anything to keep her. He would make a moment in time vanish forever if it meant that she would remain by his side until death separated them.

And, with that as his rationale, Jason watched as Moreno's body fell deeper into the water. Once the body was no longer visible, he strode down the dock and headed for his bike. Glancing around him again, he breathed an audible sigh of relief in his solitude. No one had witnessed what he had done, and only one other person would know. He reached inside his leather jacket and pulled out his cell phone. With a few choice words, he relayed his message. After the call ended, he took one last glance before he shoved his helmet unto his head and roared off the dock...and back home to Keesha.