I can't save her, I think. This girl. This girl I love. The one with the secrets and the lies, that moves like liquid, that makes me come so hard I see stars every time. I wanted to save her, shield her from this life, but just like me it's all she knows. She walks through the doors, right into the devil’s lair. Shakespeare was right when he wrote that line in the Tempest,Hell is empty and all the devils are here. They're all in this room.
The girl continues her approach. Without fear. Without hesitation. The faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of her lips. Blood pools beneath me on the floor. Black spots. Fuzzy. White noise.
"Hey, Tony," she calls out.
Tony straightens, snaps his head towards her voice. "Oh, who do we have here? Boys. Boys. Check it out. Our favorite girl is here. You got something for me, baby?" He rolls his cigar across his bottom lip.
"Yeah, Tony, I got something for you. A little surprise Tone."
And what she has shocks the hell out of everybody.
Especially me.
Chapter 15
Felony
The gun is heavy in my arms—but I love the weight of it—the shock in everyone’s eyes when they see me holding it. The absolute power I have aiming it right between Anthony Fretolli’s shit-brown eyes.
My Scorpion EV03 machine gun. It’s slim, easy to hold, complete with three-round burst. They do a lot of damage when you want them to. It feels like I have the biggest dick in the room and all of a sudden the Fretolli crime family is too scared to be in the sword fight with me.
I got the gun from my Russian friends.
A quick moment of silence for Lev Jacov.
I heard he had a slight accident today while he sat in his car in the parking lot of some seedy diner right off Interstate 95. Poor guy. Overdosing on the drugs your own father sells to the neighborhood kids, that’s just poor judgment. Or maybe it was just poor judgment trusting the topless girl in the back seat telling you the special antacid she had would cure your cheesecake-induced heartburn so your dick could get hard enough she’d finally let you have her.
Okay, moment of silence is over.
“Run, Soph—” Corrado’s voice cracks over my name; long streaks of blood dripping from his lips make him choke on the last syllable. Even with his last few breaths he’s trying to save me, trying to get me away from the Big Bad Wolf.
They’re still looking at me in shock. All of them, even Corrado.
It had to be because of the ginormous machine gun in my trigger-happy freshly manicured fingers.
I flick my eyes over all of them. Tony. Enzo. Salvatore and Carlo. I can’t bear to look at Corrado. His mouth is set too grim—his eyes so swollen they can hardly open. Tony or one of his minions has hammered some metal stakes into the beams that run along the ceiling—rope dropping taut below them, tied in knots around Corey’s wrist. His body stretched out and dangling, clothes torn.
A soft amber light bleeds in from the dirty warehouse window, dusk settling in around us.
“What are you doing, beautiful?” Tony asks, smiling at my gun. “That’s a pretty impressive piece of machinery you got there.”
“Do you like it, Tony? I got it from the Jacovs. Bunch of fun guys, they are.” I’m still holding the gun on him, but Enzo—he’s pretty much the one with the least brain function in the crew, he goes to reach for whatever he keeps in the waistband of his pants. “Oh, Enzo, I wouldn’t if I were you. Just a bit of pressure from my finger and, well, you’re all standing so close, and this puppy sprays its bullets—I could take you out all at once.” I cock my head to the side and giggle. “Unless that’s what you want?”
“Enzo, don’t move,” Tony growls, his hands moving out to his side showing me he’s unarmed. “Felony, what are you doing? Don’t be stupid.”
“Maybe I should just start with a quick blast at dick-level?” I lower the gun to his groin and pretend to think about the possibilities.
“Okay, sweetheart. Why don’t you just tell me what it is you’re after?” Tony’s nose flares, and I’m just as giddy as a kid in a candy store without parents and an unlimited get-whatever-the-hell-you-want coupon. I like angry Tony.
But I like scared Tony even more.
“I want you to tell me a story,” I say with a smile.
“What kind of story? What do you mean?” Tony’s squinting at the gun and I’m tempted to blast the wall behind him so he doesn’t talk himself into believing I’m just holding some trumped-up water pistol.
“A story you never told anyone,” I say.
“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m getting tired of this—”
