“You followed a turned-off phone with no sim card that I stashed in a faraday cage?” I asked, eyes wide with a nod. “That’s either incredibly impressive, or you just lied to me, Mr. Marciano.”
“How I found you is immaterial,” he barked and pointed at me, glass in hand. Scotch spilled over the lip.
Men with power all too often got used to it. People deferred to the powerful. When you had a reputation like the Bastard’s, one of violence and capriciousness, anyone willing to challenge you either ended up dead or they learned to keep their mouths shut. He’d lashed out when I didn’t cooperate completely.
That wasn’t all, he’d evaded the question. Gianna noticed it, too. Her brows furrowed, the closest she’d get to that cute chipmunk thinking face of hers in front of her father. If the Bastard noticed his daughter’s confusion, he didn’t acknowledge it. His free hand grabbed a bar towel and wiped the spill from his hand.
“You chipped your daughter,” I said. “Of course, she’s a valuable asset to you. You wouldn’t want to misplace her.”
His face reddened and he fought a sneer. Gianna’s mask shattered, eyes wide. One of her hands rubbed the back of her neck.
A small victory, but would it make a difference?
“I want to keep my daughter safe,” the Bastard said, hiding the anger by the third word. He took a breath and tossed the bar towel behind the bar. “Given some Russian thug kidnapped her, I think my precautions are justified. You still haven’t answered my question.”
My stomach flip-flopped and I closed my eyes for a breath. This was the moment. I’d learn where Gianna stood with my answer. Either way, it’d hurt her. That was one of the last things I ever wanted to do, but she deserved to know the truth.
“Irina and Katina Lebedev,” I said, unable to keep my voice as cool and calm as I wanted.
“And?” The Bastard held his hands out. “Should I recognize those names?”
“You killed them,” I hissed and paused for a deep breath before continuing. “Well, you sold the guns that did the deed to the terrorists.”
The Bastard chuckled and shook his head. Gianna bit her lip next to him. Her eyes fell to me but I didn’t reciprocate, couldn’t risk it, not now.
“That’s it?” The Bastard scoffed and sighed. “If a drunk driver had killed your family, would you have blamed the distiller? I’m a business man, I sell things. How my clients use what I sell them is up to them. I expected more. From what my daughter said, you went to a lot of trouble for such petty revenge. You blame me for the death of your mother and sister? Eye for an eye would have been easier than getting my daughter to betray me.”
“Unlike you, I don’t kill innocent women and children,” I said, amazed I was keeping the anger from my voice, “and Gianna and I have a lot in common. I discovered that when I started researching your family, Mr. Marciano.”
At that, Gianna’s brows furrowed at me. I held mine on her father, couldn’t think about the pain I was about to inflict on her. Knowing everything I did now about her, I should have told her everything at the start, but no, I had to play games.
“Oh, do tell.” The Bastard flashed another fake smile. “What do you have in common with my daughter?”
“The same man who killed my mother and sister killed hers.” I narrowed my eyes to block Gianna from my vision. I couldn’t see her reaction if I wanted to keep going.
“My wife died because she cared more about her next fix than caring for her infant daughter,” the Bastard hissed. “I had nothing to do with it!”
Before I replied, I opened my eyes more. Gianna glared at me with more ferocity than she’d shown when I’d first kidnapped her. Speaking the truth had been a gamble, I knew, but by now, it was my only play. You couldn’t put the bullet back in the gun once you’d pulled the trigger.
“That is what the official autopsy reported,” I said, and pointed with my head to the wall behind the bar, “but I have a copy of the original, unaltered autopsy report. You know what it says, I’m sure.”
The Bastard’s eyes twitched but his lips pressed flat. He didn’t have a response. Gianna’s angry eyes darted between the two of us.
“What…” she began, voice scratchy before a cough, “what does it say?”
“She died of a massive overdose, that was true,” I said, eyes on the Bastard again as his red cheeks turned purple. “When a person has that much heroin in their system, there are two possibilities. They are either a junkie with a tolerance so steep they need an elephant’s dose to feel anything, or they were murdered. The man who performed the autopsy found no track marks on her skin, none of the damage a habit that hard would have on her veins. She wasn’t an addict.”
“You are lying!” barked the Bastard. He slammed the glass against the bar and aimed an accusatory finger my way.
Gianna flinched at the sound but she’d dropped her head. Lips quivered as what I’d just said percolated through her head. The handcuff key slipped into my fingers. With all attention on the Marcianos, I’d find no better time to free my hands.
“Wait, you said mother and sister.” Gianna’s voice sounded just above a whisper. Wide eyes on me, her lips quivered.
“She was two months pregnant,” I replied, my fingers on knife’s handle.
“With a bastard’s child!” the guilty man bellowed.
The mercenaries flinched at his tone. Gianna stumbled away from him, but narrowed, calculating eyes replaced her shocked expression. He tightened his tie, and the sneer on his face fell into a flat expression.
