Not about him.
Or about me.
I looked into the dark eyes watching me intently. “Can you please kill me now?”
6
Bailey
The guy talked heatedly to the men in the front seat while he sat in the back of the van with me.
His gaze moved back to me, his eyes narrowed. Then his mouth opened, and I knew he was trying to talk to me—to get me to understand him. His head dropped forward, his shoulders heaving once. Then he looked up, and his mouth moved again. Though I couldn’t hear it, I saw it. “I’m sorry,” he said. And for some unknown reason, I believed him.
He reached into a gym bag behind the driver’s seat and pulled out a black dress shirt. He ripped off one of the sleeves using his bare hands. Then he lifted the stretched material and nodded at me as if assuring me that he truly was remorseful. The fabric covered my eyes as I bent forward, allowing him to tie it behind my head.
I’d already surrendered to my fate. It would have been useless to fight, and honestly—I had no fight left.
I felt him sit down next to me, our arms touching. I tipped my head back and leaned against the cool metal of the van.
I thought about my life.
About everything I’d been through.
I wondered if, or even how they would identify my body.
If somehow, somewhere, my parents would be notified.
And I wondered if they’d even care.
Nate
After driving to PJ’s house and Tiny forcefully removing him from the car, we drove to Uncle Benny’s. Technically, he wasn’t my uncle, but he’d known me since I was born. Benny and my dad were business partners up until Dad died when I was sixteen. At the time, it was just Dad and me.
The business ran well. Uncle Benny was the muscle. My dad—he was the brains. And when he died, I was given the opportunity to learn his trade and one day take over his position. The truth is—I had my own reasons for making the choice I did—one I kept completely to myself.
I quit school and did what was expected. I learned the ins and outs and committed my life to the job. Soon enough, the business became my family. Still, Uncle Benny reminded me I hadn’t earned shit. If not for my dad, I’d be another punk peddling dope on the streets.
But he was wrong, and he fucking knew it.
Six years on and I’d done my service.
Or at least, I made it seem that way.
After Tiny had announced our presence through the intercom, the gates to Uncle Benny’s house swung open. My eyes were fixed on the girl, her head tilted back, her chest rising and falling with each quiet breath. Tiny parked in front of the door and hopped out. A moment later, the side door of the van slid open. “You got a game plan?” he asked.
“The truth,” I answered.
*
Uncle Benny’s eyes went huge when Tiny and I walked through his office doors, the girl stumbling between us. I was surprised PJ hadn’t called him yet—ratted us out like the prick he was. “What the fuck is this?” Benny snapped.
The three guards he kept around immediately stood up when they heard the anger in his voice.
“Settle down,” I told them. “In fact, I need a minute alone with Benny.”
Uncle Benny quirked an eyebrow at my casual tone. He was “Don” to everyone else. Just like I was “Boss.”
It was a rule.
No names.
“Don?” One of his gorillas asked.
He shooed them away with a wave of his hand. They left, no questions asked. I knew they hated me, twenty-two-year-old punk they had to call “Boss?” Of course, they despised me. But they respected my dad, so they kept their mouths shut.
I sat down on the other side of Benny’s desk. Tiny moved to the seats the guards had just vacated and helped the girl sit down before doing the same.
“Start talking,” Benny bit out.
With a shaky exhale, I told him everything I knew, which wasn’t much at all.
When I was done, he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin with the back of his hand. “So she killed Pauly?”
I nodded.
The girl clasped her hands on her lap.
Benny’s eyes moved to her quickly before returning to me. “So she’s seen you. Seen Tiny and the other men. You come here, and you say my name, and now she knows that, too.”
I opened my mouth to interrupt, but he raised his hand, stopping me.
I cursed under my breath—realizing the mistake I’d made.
Benny leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “You know what your dad would do?” he asked.
I shook my head, my eyes narrowing in confusion.
“He’d kill her. She knows too much, and she killed one of our men.”
“My dad wasn’t a killer,” I said, my tone clipped.
Benny chuckled. “Not that you know of,” he mused. “And say you’re right … your father was a Boss,” he said like the term Boss was a form of royalty. “He had an entire army beneath him. An army of killers.”