Page 56 of Bloody Savage God
“You get plenty. You were spoiled your entire life while I worked hard. I deserved to get more than Leonardo ever offered me in return.”
I can feel my muscles freeze up at his words. “So what? You killed him?”
The part of me that remembers Uncle Mario before he grew to resent me is hanging onto the hope that he’ll deny it, but that part dies a painful death when the corners of his lips turn upward. “Did you come up with that theory all on your own or did the Russians whisper it in your ear?”
My fingertips tingle, and I don’t know if it’s numbness or the urge to grab my knife and slice his throat right here and now, but I need to understand. Because if I don’t, I’ll forever ask myself if the people I trust the most, the way my father trusted Uncle Mario, will stab me in the back, too. The way I’ve already cast my suspicions over Eric. And now even Mia.
“Why didn’t you just tell my father you needed to borrow money? Why go to Benny Ronaldo in the first place?” I want to shout the questions at him, but the words come out quietly, as if all the air in my body rushed out at his admission of guilt, leaving none behind to yell in anger.
Uncle Mario waves his hand as if to swat away a ridiculous suggestion. “Your father became stingy in recent years. Said I had borrowed enough. Said I needed to open my eyes to what would be coming my way if I didn’t stop gambling myself. As if he hadn’t been the one to enable me in the first place. Made me dependent on him for the cash, while you got everything thrown your way like the spoiled princess you are. And then suddenly he cut me off. So I went to that Ronaldo kid. Figured he’d be easy.”
Realization dawns. “So you told him off when he came to collect. Threatened him. Except he went to his daddy and got the Russians to run security for him. That’s when you got scared they’d come to collect for him, didn’t you?”
I watch in disgust as Mario spits on the floor. He’s no longer my uncle. That family bond died with my father’s last breath, and it is time I acknowledge that.
“How the fuck was I supposed to know the Bratva would show up for the kid? He’s a nobody. I didn’t really think they’d risk coming after me, starting a war, but then again, it seemed like a good idea to make sure they knew not to mess with the Italians. Especially since I couldn’t trust Leonardo to actually stand up for me if it came down to it. His own damn consigliere. So I had to make a move myself, getting your father to follow along by making up that little story about Benny messing around at the games.” He laughs, the cackling sounding more manic than amused. “Ironic that your daddy sent you out to deliver the message. And when you came home telling us you saw the Tsepov kid, it was just too perfect.”
I stare at Mario in disbelief. “My father would never have thrown you to the Russians. He would have stuck his neck out for you if the Bratva had demanded you pay.”
It’s the truth, but Mario shakes his head. “He should have given me the money in the first place. I’m done being humiliated, having to ask for scraps. It’s time for me to take what should rightfully be mine after all the work I’ve done for this family for years.”
Did my aunt know Mario was like this? I have a feeling she would turn in her grave if she knew the things he was spewing now. If she knew he was a back-stabbing, fucking murderer.
“So you killed my father to what? To take his money and position?” I need his confirmation. Need to know that he killed the man I loved the most in this world for nothing more than cash and status.
Mario draws himself up. “Your father is gone, Gianna. Let’s deal with what actually matters now. You’re not going to fuck this up for me. I’ll be in charge oflafamiliafrom now on.”
I draw my knife and have it at his throat before he is able to lift his gun. Everything in me screams to take him out now. He’s the killer I’ve been after. I’m sure of that now more than ever. He murdered my father, betrayed his best friend and me. He needs to die.
Then he opens his mouth and smiles a toothy smile. “Kill me, and the police will have you behind bars in less than a week. I doubt even your Russian scum could help you out then.”
“What do you mean?” I press the knife harder against his neck.
“Means I have plenty of evidence around that you’re responsible for my death, should something happen to me.”
It’s enough to make me pause, though not quite enough to make up my mind. I’ve got leverage over people in this city that can protect me, and I want to cut through his skin badly. Want to feel my wet knife cut through his muscles and arteries. I want to scrape my blade against his bones and cartilage. See the life run out of him slowly while I spit in his face.
Behind me, someone knocks on the door. “Gianna? Everything okay?”
Eric.
Mario’s grin only widens. “The no good bodyguard strikes again.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but call out, “Come in.” Time to get everything out in the open.
The door opens silently, and I can sense Eric stepping in, even though I don’t move my attention away from Mario.
Eric doesn’t say anything, but he slowly moves around us until he’s standing at a ninety-degree angle from us, able to see exactly what’s going on. Then he looks at me, raising his eyebrows in question.
“He killed my father. I’m sure of it,” I say, feeling some of the acid burn in my throat lessen.
Eric didn’t know.
“Why isn’t he dead?” My cousin’s question holds no emotion, only curiosity.
Mario chuckles, though he quickly stops when the movement against my blade draws blood. “Because the little princess doesn’t want an extended stay in prison and she has no proof, just her little theories.”
In all truth, I’m very much considering whether killing him may be worth it, but that would leave the family and Bruno Properties without solid leadership. Without any prior warning, even the best placed people would have a hard time keeping evidence away from the wrong eyes. The kind of eyes that would like to see me locked up for a very long time.
