Mike sneered. ‘The girls are not yours. They’re ours. I can take what I want.’
He stared at Mike dispassionately. ‘Hope if you took what you wanted from Linnea that you used a condom. Turns out that she’s HIV positive.’
It was as if Mike’s sneer was ripped away by an invisible hand, his eyes widening in shock. ‘What?’
‘Yep.’ Anger churned in his gut, roared through his mind. Because he’d sent Linnea to many, many clients’ homes in the last six months. He didn’t know at what point she’d become infected, but he could potentially have dozens of infected clients out there. Eventually they’d be diagnosed and eventually there would be a health department investigation because so many corporate icons testing positive wasn’t a normal thing. Clients hired his girls because he guaranteed their health.
Because Mike told him they were clean.
He clenched his fists against the wave of fury that made him want to break every bone in Mike’s body. ‘And how did I not know that, Uncle? You were responsible for having them tested every two weeks. You showed me lab results. Did you not test them?’
‘I did. I swear I did.’ But Mike’s eyes shifted left. His tell.
He’d needed to come here, to confront this situation in person because he’d needed to see that tell. Because he would have wanted to believe his uncle.
Because I fucking trusted him. Sonofabitch.
‘You’re lying,’ he said coldly. ‘Why? Why say you did the tests when you didn’t? What was worth that risk?’
Mike’s eyes glittered, but with hate now. Contempt. ‘Do you even know how much those tests cost?’
He stared for a moment, genuinely stunned. ‘What? This was about money?’
Mike snarled. ‘Everything’s about money, boy. Everything. Haven’t you been listening all these years?’
‘Yeah, I have. And you got plenty of the money. What are you doing with it? Shooting it up your fucking veins?’
Mike’s flinch was all the answer he needed.
‘You’ve been using the product? Are you that stupid?’ He shook his head when Mike silently glared. ‘You are that stupid. You dumb fuck. I gave you so much. More than you ever deserved, but it was never enough. You’ve ruined us. Ruined everything.’
Mike closed his eyes and wearily shifted more of his weight against the brick wall. ‘I didn’t ruin anything, boy. At least not all by myself. You more than participated.’
His heart was beating fast in his chest. ‘I didn’t tap the product.’
‘No, you tapped Mallory. You just couldn’t resist her, could you? All Mr High-And-Mighty who wouldn’t touch his own girls got hung up on one who belonged to someone else. And then you left her alive. And then you dragged Linnea into it and that poor friend of hers too. I told you to let me take care of Mallory, but no, you didn’t trust me. You had to do it yourself. You had to be the big man. And in the end, that’s what’s ruined us.’
He could barely hear over the rage pulsing in his head. ‘You have the nerve to say I should have trusted you? You lied to me. You stole from me. You have fucked up every job I’ve given you. Why the hell should I have trusted you? You’re fucking lucky you’ve got a life at all. You were a broken down, sorry excuse for a man. A user. A failure. Everything you have is because of me.’
Mike lurched forward, shoving at him with his uninjured right hand. ‘You ungrateful little shit. I taught you everything you know.’
Yes, Mike had. He’d taught him to never suffer fools, and that fuckups didn’t survive.
‘I agree,’ he said very quietly and Mike, finally reading his mood, took a wary step back. Not so stupid after all, are you, old man? ‘So you also must know that you are now a liability.’ He slid his gun from his shoulder holster.
Mike’s good arm lifted as if to stave him off. ‘Wait. Don’t do thi—’
His uncle dropped to the ground, a single bullet centered in his forehead. The bullet, ironically, came from the very gun Mike had given him for his last birthday.
Goddammit. His legs folded right out from under him, dropping him on his ass. He sat on the concrete next to Mike’s body, his breathing fast and shallow.
He’d killed more men than he could remember over the years, but never had it felt like this. Not even his very first, when he’d killed the man with whom he actually had shared blood. Yes, he’d given Mike everything. But Mike had been more than an uncle and more than a business partner.
Mike had been the closest thing he’d ever had to a father. More so than the man who’d adopted him. And a helluva lot more than the man who’d been his real father. Sanctimonious, abusive, preachy SOB that he’d been.
The only good thing his real father had given him was the realization that punching a time clock in the pew every Sunday morning was the best way to hide his sins in plain sight. Mike had taught him almost everything else.
Now Mike was gone. Now it was done. All of it was done. His businesses, so carefully planned and executed . . . all gone. He’d eliminated all the girls that afternoon and the thought of building a new ring of college hookers? Not gonna happen because he couldn’t manage them or any of his other endeavors anymore, not without Mike and Butch.
Nor did he want to. They’d built it, together. The three of them.
At least Butch never stole from me. It was a small consolation. Too small.
He stared at Mike’s body, his emotions leveling. He shouldn’t have been so stunned to learn Mike was skimming. The man was a criminal, after all, and he had taught him a lot, but not nearly everything. Mike was a two-bit conman and would have never been more.
Not without me. For now, he had cleanup to do. He’d fully leveled, but he continued to sit on the cold asphalt, regarding Mike. Mike had needed to die, so killing had been right, but he should have done it differently. The bullet was still in Mike’s goddamn head.
He made it a point not to leave bullets behind. He’d done so at Buon Cibo because he hadn’t had a choice. He hadn’t intended to kill Andy with a rifle. He’d intended to blow the poor bastard sky high, along with Mallory and Meredith and anyone else unfortunate enough to have been in the blast zone.
He blinked hard, trying to focus on what needed to be done. Had he fired the gun anywhere that he would have left a bullet in the past? He didn’t think so. Mike had sworn that the gun was brand new, never been fired. But Mike was a fucking liar, so who knew?
He let out a heavy sigh. I’m tired. He hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since . . . when? Thursday? He needed to get home. Rita would be wondering why he hadn’t called. He didn’t have the time or tools to bury Mike and he certainly didn’t want the guy’s blood – which the cops now had in copious quantities and were testing, for God’s sake – anywhere near his own SUV, so he wasn’t taking Mike’s body anywhere.
But he did not want him identified. Time to go old school. He had some serious aggression to work through, anyway. He looked behind the strip mall for something that would serve his purposes and found a pile of bricks stacked against the wall. That’ll do.
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Monday 21 December, 12.50 A.M.
It was quiet. Finally quiet. So quiet that Meredith was almost afraid to breathe as she rode up the elevator to the condo with Adam at her side.
Only Adam. Because they were finally alone.
His arm was around her waist and she leaned her head against his shoulder. And they said nothing, but somehow it wasn’t awkward at all.
‘It’s lovely.’ She’d murmured the words aloud without planning to do so.
‘Mmm.’ He nuzzled his cheek against her hair, the strands catching in his stubble. She liked his stubble. Always had. He reminded her of a pirate. ‘You are.’
She hummed softly, her cheeks warming at the praise. ‘I meant the quiet. It’s nice.’
‘I know.’
And of course, now that she’d commented on the quiet, a million nervous words began fluttering in her throat. ‘I’m glad everyone is finally settled.’