Never Have an Outlaw's Baby (Deadly Pistols MC #3)(126)
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 f*cking 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 f*cking 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.
Why was this so hard? Why couldn't I see who was really pumping venom into my mind and soul?
“Sabrina...f*ck. Having you looking at me like that's a dagger in the side.” He sounded genuinely hurt, running one hand across his lower torso for effect. His eyes hardened, darkened, shaking in his head. “You know they'll tell you any lie to come between us, don't you? That's the way it is in this game. Brother against brother, father against daughter, a patriarch against his bright young stars.”
He turned, staring at the fire. One of the guards coughed and immediately clapped a hand over his mouth. If I thought having his disgusted eyes on me was tough, the silence was worse.
It ended with Gioulio's fist banging on the masonry. That had to hurt.
The big painting of Florence above the hearth tumbled to the ground and splintered. I jumped, feeling the resounding crash echoing in the room for the next thirty seconds.
“Do you think I'd work with such diseased minds, Brina? Believe that I'd give them innocent girls to tear apart with their teeth? Is that what the Russians told you?” The smile creeping across his face was so nasty I struggled back in my chair. “What else did they tell you? They wanted to sow the seeds of my death in your own pretty head. I know their type. Cowards, who can't face me man-to-man. So, they send my own niece to do the dirty work for them.”
He came close, circling me like a shark, stopping behind me. His suit shuffled. I heard something snap and skate up the fabric.
His blade appeared next to my right temple. I screamed, pressed myself into the chair, and only opened my eyes when he didn't start to shred my skin.
What kind of psychopath was he? Why was he just holding it there? Was he f*cking terrorizing me?
Uncle Gioulio reached for my hand, pulled it up, and tucked my fingers around the handle. “There. On your feet, Brina. Stand up. Right the f*ck now.”
I clenched the knife and did it, turning toward him. The metal was so cold in my hand, heavier than I'd expected.
“What do you want?” I asked, barely a whisper. “Why are you making me do this?”
“If you believe anything those bastards told you, then I need you to drive that knife into my throat right now. Go on. Do it.” He held his head up, stepping around the chair, until we were a couple feet apart. “I'd rather be killed by family on my feet than stabbed in the back on my f*cking knees and tossed to my enemies.”
My fingers clenched until they turned numb. The tingling spread. It felt like I'd left my body and I was observing the surreal scene from somewhere on high, adrift in total confusion.
“Go ahead, niece. Do it. Make your old man proud. He'd want you to rid this world of evil. It's what I deserve for pushing him into an early grave.”
I snapped back into my body and gasped. Would've dropped the blade if I didn't have such a death grip on it. Did he really just say that – a confession I hadn't asked for?
So, at least one of his atrocities was true – the one that hurt me most. My own father, killed by the man in front of me, the man I'd always trusted.
“Why, uncle? Fucking why?” Hot tears stung my eyes.
For the first time in my life, Uncle Gioulio was shaking, alive with the same vicious current tearing through me. His savage offer was so f*cking tempting just then. One push forward, one stab, and all my troubles would be over. Well, right until the guards fell on me and did who knew what for striking down their master.
“I did it for you,” he whispered, grasping the edge of my empty chair and steadying himself. “Gio was outta control. He died the night that car ran down your mama. He turned to the needle, blew his brains out with that junk, wouldn't even look after his own f*cking daughter! I had to do everything for you. Those men I sent by the house every week were there to make sure you were being fed. I had to know he hadn't f*cked up and abandoned you. I thought it was just a phase at first, something he'd get over. But the f*cking weeks turned into months, then into years...my brother was gone. That shell he left in the condo snorting and drinking until he passed out wasn't the man I grew up with, the man you called papa.”