“Right.” He pulls into the yard, between several other vehicles. “So, anyway, I was killing them slowly out in the woods when you called.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” I quip before I hop out of the truck.
“Are you kidding me? You just gifted me a fucking revenge plot, where I got to torture three assholes that I hate, and now, their deaths will lead to an all-out war. Balzano will fucking destroy that whole family for me.” He cackles into the night as he drops the tailgate, drags one of the bodies out, and slings it over his shoulder. “I’ll get them,” he adds. “You call it into Vargas.”
Before I make that call, I hit him with one more vital inquiry. “Time of death?”
“Ahh … I threw them in the truck when you called, but I liked the idea of them suffering, so I didn’t kill them until I was in the desert, about an hour away. They shit and pissed all over each other. Pathetic fuckers.” He pauses for a beat, the limp form dangling down his back. “Probably around eleven.”
Armed with that information, I whip out my burner phone and dial Vargas’s private line.
He answers with a clipped, “Yeah?” on the third ring.
“We’ve got twenty-five down at a house in Vegas. The only residence on Marigold Way.”
“Give me a minute, darlin’,” he mumbles before going quiet and eventually returning to me. “What the hell happened?”
He must have been hauling himself out of bed with his woman because he took long enough that Gage is already disappearing into the house with guy two.
I don’t bother explaining myself, opting to launch our cover from the start. “Appears to be some sort of Mafia shoot-out. Best we can tell, three of the guys were being held and tortured, but must’ve gotten loose and retaliated.”
He barks a dubious laugh. “Three against twenty-two. Fine. Any specifics?”
It’s a stretch, but my crew could do it. That’s basically our POW story.
“Yeah. No time of death should be performed.” I add that little tidbit because while less than twenty-four hours doesn’t pose a huge difference in appearance, it will certainly show on an autopsy.
“How much variance are we talking?” He asks that as Gage sprints back to the truck and hoists up corpse number three.
“Twelve hours,” I supply, mesmerized by watching the Big Guy in action.
“Okay. I got a guy in the coroner’s office there, so that’s an easy fix.” Vargas has guys everywhere. He’s as corrupt as they come, but he prioritizes women and families. That’s why he’s our guy. He hums before tacking on the factor that’s coming to my mind too. “They’ll be colder though. Any officer will pick up on that.”
As the concern leaves his mouth, flames start curling around the house.
“I think we’re gonna heat things up to take care of that,” I apprise him.
“Perfect,” he replies, pecking a keyboard to likely acquire satellite images. “The fire marshal and I go way back too. You can never know too many people in Sin City.”
“Great.” I release a small breath of relief, although this is far from over. “Just get the right people over here. There are some big names involved, and this isn’t the cleanest job.”
His unruffled air dissipates in an instant. “Gotta give me more than that. What kind of shitstorm am I trudging through?”
Yeah, this isn’t going to go over well.
My stomach wrenches as my heart clambers to my throat. “The majority were part of some street gang. But there were also a few Morellis and a couple of Balzanos.”
“Fucking hell,” he sneers, comprehending the full weight of that admission—the Morellis are mean motherfuckers who cooperate with no one, and Vargas is aware of Johnny Balzano’s position with KORT and how slimy he is. “What the hell did you get yourself into?”
I could tell him to fuck off and insist that he do it simply because I’m ordering him to, but that’s not my style. So, I provide the one detail that I know will have him bending over backward to cover for us. The truth. “I had to protect my girl.”
And as Gage bursts out of the blazing house, Vargas imparts the answer I need to hear. “Enough said. I’ll take care of it. Get the hell out of there.”
“Leaving now,” I assure him as Gage and I both jump into the truck.
The call ends, Gage peels away, and I snatch my primary phone to check on Rena. She’s sprawled out, sleeping peacefully, no idea that I just transformed her complicated world into an utter mindfuck of an existence.
Desperate exasperation shudders out of my lungs until they’re so empty that I feel them adhering to my spine. “I can’t fucking lose her. I fucked this all up. I should have stayed away or …fuck.”
