“Why?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t care. I just wanted the money.”
“What money?” When he didn’t answer right away, Jac slapped him. “What money?”
“This guy. He paid Charlie to hand you guys off.”
“What guy?”
“I don’t know. I never saw him. Only Charlie spoke to him. It was supposed to be easy. Some chloroform, and then we were going to say you ran away with the kids.”
“You’re sick.”
“I just wanted the money. I just needed some Molly, and I was short.”
Jac punched him, then pulled his meaty fist back to do it again.
“So you decided to help the Hayeses abuse us for drugs? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
Micah’s eyes widened with panic, the lines under them deep and dark. “No, no. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I swear. I was just supposed to help carry you to the car. I didn’t do anything. I ran.”
“What I’m curious about,” Renzo said, approaching with slow, firm steps, “is how far you ran.”
“Y-you’re…Renzo Iannelli.” Micah began to hyperventilate, his gaze haunted.
“I am.”
I backed away to let Renzo take over. After all, I’d gotten my answers. I no longer needed to wonder why Micah betrayed us all those years ago. The bastard gave us up for drugs, money,and jealousy. How stereotypical. I’d suspected, but after so many years, the truth was a bitter pill left out so long it disintegrated to dust with one touch. It didn’t matter anymore, and it barely hurt at all.
“You haven’t answered my question, Mr. Anderson.”
Renzo didn’t show the restraint I had. He cut, hit, and broke bones.
Micah was even quicker to spill his guts. He had run away from the planned van to three neighborhoods down and met up with some buddies, where he spent the following two nights until he received a phone call from a man promising him an obscene sum of money if he testified against Renzo. It was a man with a prominent accent. However, when he collected the money, the voice of the person he met with was different, even though they had similar accents. The second man he had a name for: Vasileios Papadopoulos.
Renzo stopped interrogating after that. I’d overheard that name a few times years before while living in Tore’s home. Back then, Vasileios was the second-in-command in the Dimakos mafia. As suspected earlier, the Greeks were responsible for the attempted assault, attempted kidnapping, and the false testimony. Unfortunately, we didn’t get any headway from Micah on the missing financier who paid off the judge and police captain. Even with Bee’s talents, that trail was a dead-end.
I didn’t see Renzo’s knife slash, but blood spilled and dripped from an open gash to Micah’s throat. His whimpers and cries gurgled, then died. Quick and painless, not what I had expected from Renzo. I had seen a lot worse over the years since Charlie and Marlene’s deaths.
“I wasn’t aware, Ainsley,” Renzo said, wiping his knife clean on Micah’s clothes, “that you were so skilled at interrogations. You almost didn’t need me at all.”
“What I cede isn’t out of need, Mr. Iannelli. I might agree with vigilante justice every now and then, but I refuse to get my hands as dirty as yours.”
“Anzy,” Tore gritted between his teeth.
“I’ll soon have to take the Hippocratic oath after all.”
“But you’re so good at interrogations.” There was a glint in Renzo’s eyes. Was he teasing me?
“This was personal.”
“I can understand that.”
Why did his mouth have to turn up on one side like that? This wasn’t a joke. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Actually, there’s something I need to discuss with you,” he said. Vinny tossed him a cloth to wipe the blood off his hands. “Meet me in Tore’s study after you’ve cleaned up.”
Chapter 35
