“I told you not to see the Russian again.” Gioulio's face tightened and turned red. “Do you realize you could've been killed in that prison riot? I can't believe they didn't torture you on the outside, or worse. You're a lucky girl, niece. And a fucking stupid one.”
I blinked. Uncle Gioulio had never insulted me like that before. Shame passed through me like a sickly current, and my eyes went to the floor. I hated him for what he'd supposedly done, especially if he'd killed papa on top of his crimes.
But it still hurt to be called out like that. When I looked up, the edge was off his face, if only a little.
“I'm sorry.”
Yeah, I truly was. Sorry I'd ever gotten myself into this fucked up situation. Maybe sorry I'd been born.
“It's done, Brina. Let's not dwell on it. You're safe – that's what really matters. You understand, all that's left for us now is payback, capisce? No one takes my niece and treats her like a slave. I'll skin them all alive myself.”
His hands moved in a whirl. Next thing I knew, the knife was out, extended and sharp, the dull edge sliding up his gray thigh.
“Uncle, please don't do anything too rash. We need to think this through.”
“We?” The darkness curdled his features again. “My dear girl, we're going home and you're going to tell me absolutely everything you remember about the time you spent with those barbarians. And then you're going back to your condo under lock and key with permanent men assigned to protect you. I won't let you out until the city's free from the Ivankov bastards. I should've killed them all when they were still in diapers. If it wasn't for your old man and that fucking truce...”
He trailed off, smoothed his face, shot me an apologetic look. Strike two. He'd never bad mouthed my father. Uncle Gioulio was flustered, enraged, maybe even scared. I wondered if he was just going crazy from all the emotions, or if the mask was slipping.
My lips stayed sealed. I wasn't going to argue with him. Not now. We took the next few miles in silence, rumbling into the gated community where he had his Chicago mansion.
My lungs felt sharp tacks inside them every time I drew breath. It hurt just to breathe because it made me think about the complications burying me alive, suffocating the happy nights I'd had with Anton.
I hoped with all my might that there was still some way out of this without someone getting killed. But the chances were fading like the pale sun overhead slipping into its tomb-like clouds.
There was no stopping Uncle Gioulio once I spilled my guts. And there was no stopping Anton either. Kill or be killed. Inevitable as the day was long.
All I had was the power of life and death in my hands, and even that threatened to slip away from me with every volcanic breath.
Inside his sitting room, underneath the big chandelier, Uncle Gioulio fixed us drinks and sat down across from me.
The first sip burned before fading to sultry smoothness. Brandy.
“Tell me, why did they send you back? What's this message they were willing to forfeit their lives for? I'm going to kill them all, you know. Letting you go unharmed doesn't change that.”
The two guards near the door shuffled uncomfortably. Who could blame them? This very second, my uncle's full hellfire was focused on me.
“They were trying to kill you when Anton blew up Club Duce –“
“Anton?” My uncle cut me off, narrowing his eyes.
Shit. I shouldn't have used his name like that. It was too familiar, too intimate. If only he knew how intimate.
“The oldest one, the man who took me hostage during the interview. Ivankov has a terrible grudge. He blames you for putting him behind bars. He suffered a lot in prison. These state facilities aren't so kind to men who pick up nicknames like Chicago Bomber.”
“Ha!” Uncle Gioulio slapped the armrest so hard brandy sloshed out of his glass and stained the rug at his feet. “He killed twenty of my fucking partners. Twenty of Chicago's finest men. Did you know fifteen of them had families? Young kids? They were cut down in their prime like dogs by that fucking coward.”
I gulped my brandy. I'd need the extra buzz for this next part. I was going off script, departing from the cold, half-believable words Anton taught me to say.
“Yeah, about that...the Russians told me they weren't upstanding citizens. They said these men came to your club to indulge in some really depraved desires...sick crap I don't even want to say. Uncle, do you know anything about this?”
For a second, Uncle Gioulio paused, eyeing me like a hawk fixing on its prey. Then he shot out of his chair and stood, fists balled to iron at his sides.
“Come on! You don't believe that horseshit, do you, Brina?”
I swallowed. God help me. I didn't know what to believe. I'd been poisoned, tossed and turned until I couldn't make sense of anything. My belly tightened up in knots and sweat seeped out my pores like needles.