“Reasons. And where the fuck did those get you? Living like a ghost in your own town? Silenced?” We watched each other for a few minutes; the only sound was the toilet running in the bathroom. Then he spoke up again. “I get it now. You’ve come back to take them all out. You’re starting a war so they have no idea who to trust anymore. One family trying to destroy another. Even the Irish have gotten involved. What did they ever do to you?”
I smiled. “It’s mayhem, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” He nodded once. “You can say that.”
“I said that. Now you tell me something I don’t know.”
“You seem to know everything. The only thing you never knew was that Achille would seize on the opportunity to run back to Arturo and rat you out for not killing Palermo’s kid in front of him. That wife of his, too.”
“Ah.” I smiled again. “I knew.”
“Then Ireallydon’t understand why you did it. Some say they’d rather face hell than faceArturo Scarpone.”
“I faced hell and I survived.” I sat forward a little, getting closer. “Tell me about the girl you fostered five years ago.”
He bit the inside of his lip and looked up at the wall. It was his fucking political thinking face. He looked like he was taking a shit.
I stood so abruptly that the chair fell over behind me and he didn’t have a chance to react. I grabbed him by his throat and squeezed until his eyes started to water. When I let him go, he fell back into his seat, gasping for breath. I picked my chair up and set it down, sitting again. “You know me, Quillo. I’ll snap your neck for fucking less than playing stupid.”
“Five years ago,” he choked out. “Five years ago…”
I wondered how many innocent children he and his family had fostered over the years, and how many of those children he had touched while his bitch of a social-climber wife ignored it. She came into Macchiavello’s regularly with her fake friends. He had fucked half of them.
“Mari—” He went to say her entire name, but I shook my head, daring him. “Do you want her last name?” He had caught his breath, but his voice was like sandpaper.
“Yeah, give it to me,” I said.
“Flores.”
“What do you remember about her?” I rolled my teeth over my bottom lip. “Specifics.”
He caught the gesture and nodded. “Just give me a second.” He took a few deep breaths and then sighed. “Young. Around thirteen, maybe younger.”
No, you fucker, she looked younger because she was in foster and never had a steady stream of proper meals.Which made his offense even worse. He thought she was younger, and he still put his hands on her.
“Her face had the potential to become something special. Her nose was weird, but her body was tight. She had nice tits. And that ass? She was skinny, but it was alreadyboom.” He laughed. “We touched each other—” When he caught the look on my face, the roll of my teeth over my lip again, he was quicker and smarter this time. He changed his story. “I touched her. All right!Itouchedher.She was irresistible.”
“She fought.”
“Not at first. She didn’t expect it. The last time she pulled a knife on me. Then she was gone. Took off. They had her down as a runaway for a while, but she was a system kid. No one really looks.”
“You made her believe that kindness comes with strings.”
“It does. I took the homeless bitch in.” His face was pinched, but all of a sudden, it relaxed. “That’s her! Palermo’s kid! You’re looking for her.” He was stupid in some ways, but too perceptive in others. He knew if I was asking, there was a reason.
“The Scarpones have a hit on her.”
He made a disbelieving noise. “Yeah. There’s money on her head. Has been since that night. It only grows with time. More interest gained with the years. The first one to bring Arturo her severed head gets the entire sweet pot.Man.” He shook his head and whistled.
I knew he wished that he would’ve pieced it together sooner, recognized her, so the entire sweet pot could’ve been his, along with full access to her pussy before handing her over. The pot wasn’t about the money; it was about being in better graces with Arturo and his attack dog, Achille. If Quillo had to answer to Arturo, he dealt with Achille on a regular basis.
“I still can’t get over you calling the Scarpones the Scarpones. Man, have times changed.” He sighed and then his eyes widened. “I do remember something else about her. Her lips. Those lips.” His eyes softened at the thought. “You looking for her now? I can help you out. I can’t remember hair or eye color, but it’s really no issue. I know people, and I’d recognize her anywhere. And if you’re worried about me running back to tell your family, you know I won’t say anything. You and my sister—”
He stopped himself, and lucky for him he did. I was about to severhishead and deliver it to the Scarpone family free of charge.
“Just offering.” He held his hands up.
I leaned to the side, took out another small gun from behind my back, and set it on the table. Quillo glanced at it before he trained his eyes back on me. I leaned forward and steepled my hands, my fingers covering my mouth. “I don’t need to look for her, Quillo. I know where she is right this fucking second.”
