Page 57 of Bloody Savage God
Even if Eric steps in to take the reins during my absence, it wouldn’t be a long-term solution and unfortunately murderers don’t usually get short sentences. Especially if Mario has planted evidence that would have the court believe I’m a cruel, callous killer.
I’m sure as fuck not going to let that happen, no matter how accurate that actually is.
Which leaves the question of what I want to do next, since standing here for the rest of the day isn’t a particularly reasonable plan.
“Get his gun,” I tell Eric.
To my surprise, Mario hands his gun over without hesitation, but I don’t take my knife away from his throat. It’s still much too tempting.
My blade is freshly sharpened, and there is already a thin red line that I’m desperate to rip open wide.
“If you kill him right now, you may lose some support from the men,” Eric says, though there is no judgment in his words. In fact, I can hear the frustration in his tone. “Not everyone will believe he killed Leonardo. Not without a public confession or decent evidence.” I can tell from his voice that my cousin would like to take Mario down just as much as I do, and that knowledge does more to calm my nerves than his words do.
I take a couple of breaths and then nod my understanding. Mario might not die today, but he will very soon. “You’re right, but I need him to answer something.”
Mario grins, as if he’s enjoying that he has me in a stalemate. That I still need things from him.
“Who helped you kill my father?” Because he must have had some back-up. How else did he get my father to that warehouse?
Only the corners of Mario’s mouth twitch up this time, avoiding any added pressure from my blade.Fucking shame. “Just admit you’re stuck right now,” he says, ignoring my question. “You can even keep living in your fancy mansion for now. I’ll buy my own with the money that’s coming my way.”
His words are infuriating and make me wonder what else he has planned. He obviously can’t think I’d continue to feed him places to run the games, and even if he continues to run them, he must know this conflict will throw our family into a sort of civil war. There must be an angle he’s playing at, and I bet it has something to do with me losing my life the same way my father did.
With a frustrated huff, I pull my knife down, turning my back on Mario and Eric.
“Get the fuck out of here.”
I listen as two sets of footsteps head out of the room. Eric will make sure Mario actually leaves the building. If anything, at least I’m now sure Eric had nothing to do with any of it, which is the only reason I’m not gutting the fucking couch as a poor replacement for my uncle.
I need to snap into my business headspace right this fucking minute, but before I can sit down to go over the events of the day, my phone rings. On the display, Mia’s name shows.
We’re more the texting kind of people, so getting a call is unusual. Then again, what has been normal as of late?
And how did Mario find out about Mikhail and me sleeping together? Well, fucking more like it, but the point remains the same.
When I click the button to accept the call, Mia doesn’t bother with a hello. Instead, her voice sounds frantic as she says, “I just got a call from Millhaven.”
Now that’s a topic I didn’t see coming. “Your father called you?”
“Yeah. He said he’s sorry.” There is a brief pause before Mia’s next words come through the line. “He’s never said that before.”
In anyone else’s world, this might mean a cause for celebration. But this isn’t that world. If a man like Mia’s father apologizes in our world, it almost always means he’s looking over the edge of the canyon, about to fall.Or, which would be a worse alternative, he knows he’s pushed his own daughter to that ledge with his actions.
“You’ve got to take off.” Any suspicions are forgotten as I hear the urgency in my own voice. This is my best friend. My only friend. I don’t want to see her body the way I saw my father’s and I cannot truly bring myself to think she’d even betray my trust. To my uncle, no less.
There is a brief pause, then Mia’s resigned voice answers. “I know. I’m calling to say goodbye.”
Fuck.
“Where are you right now?” There is no way I’m letting Mia take off without doing something—anything—to help.
“It’s fine Gianna. I’ll start over somewhere.”
“The fuck you will. We’ll deal with this. It’s the Russians, right? Maybe we can figure out a deal through Mikhail.”
Mia laughs. “The man might be working with you right now because it serves his interest, but he’s still a fucking Russian. I can’t trust him, and neither should you. He’s doing what he does because it serves his interest. The fact that you guys are having some fun between the sheets isn’t enough to bridge that gap.”
She is right. It’s the same thing I’ve been trying to tell myself, and yet my gut instinct is that I can trust him with my bestie’s problem. Which only means my pussy has taken control of my brain and I need to keep myself in check before I do something seriously stupid.
