Never Have an Outlaw's Baby (Deadly Pistols MC #3)(130)
Too easy. Well, as easy as easy could be when my heart battered my ribcage, wanting to leap out, trying to kill the bitter, throbbing lump of pain it had become and take me with it.
“It's a shame. I can see the future laid out in front of me,” he said quietly. “Everything's going to pieces, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I'll send my boys after the Russians, but those bastards will have some idea what's coming when you don't pick up the burner phone I found in your purse and dial them up. We'll fight. We'll kill each other. I'll lose a few guys and kill more of theirs, maybe take out one of the brothers, if I'm lucky. Anton, that f*cking roach, he'll get to me eventually. He's the most expendable one. The bastard's got a statewide manhunt on his ass, and he'll come screaming in for vengeance if I off Lev or Daniel first.”
He paused, shook his head. “So much blood's waiting. It's not like I haven't lived through it all before, but f*ck, a guy shouldn't be dealing with this in his old age. I ought to be retiring, passing this shit down to somebody younger.”
The * looked at me. I knew exactly what he was thinking. No way.
Fuck no. I wanted absolutely no part of this insane business. I totally meant everything I said about packing up and putting as many miles between myself and Chicago as I could without heading all the way to Antarctica.
“You could make this easier, Brina.”
“I'm not helping you,” I snapped.
It was time to go, at least get out of this room and head upstairs. I stood, stomping my heels on the floor to relieve the pressure screaming through my body, heading for the door. My hand grabbed the cold steel handle and pulled.
The force nearly ripped my arm out of its socket. Uncle Gioulio was behind me, a gentle hand on my back.
“It's locked. Here, let me.” He took his sweet time reaching for the keys in his pocket. “I'm not the one asking you for a favor, niece. Yeah, I'm the dirty bastard down here whispering in your ear, but these aren't my words.”
What? I looked at him cautiously, wondering if reliving all this trauma had driven him insane. I couldn't be sure I was going to walk out of this room with all my marbles still intact.
“Who is it?” I asked, cringing as I did, knowing I didn't really want to know but couldn't help myself. “If it's not you talking, then who?”
Uncle Gioulio hesitated, jingling the keys in one hand. “Your parents.”
Rage shot through me. He saw me twitch, broke eye contact, and pushed the key into the lock.
“Fuck you, uncle,” I growled. “Mama and papa would've wanted me to get away from all this. Not bury myself deeper.”
I was out. He didn't follow me, but the deep, dim lit staircase had some really strange acoustics. If I wasn't scared to death of falling backwards and breaking my neck, I would've taken my hands off the old railing and covered my ears when he yelled after me, drowning out his hateful voice.
“The only voices screaming at us here are two of our flesh and blood! I tried to be nice, I tried to show you, Brina. I tried to press on, even when you were breaking my heart, and you're still so f*cking blind. You're going to let the Ivankov brothers walk with our blood on their hands. I see it now. I was wrong about you, niece – so wrong it's killing me. You're a coward!”
No! I couldn't listen to this anymore.
I ran like a madwoman up the stairs, snarling and climbing, punching through the door and clawing at the smooth floor when I was finally through. I ran past the two goons who looked up with concern when they saw me coming. They wouldn't pursue unless Uncle Gioulio told them to.
I headed straight for the guest room and turned the locks. Part of me wanted to get a driver and return to my condo, but I was just as much a prisoner there as I was here. I wouldn't be away from his evil influence until I was out of the city.
Even then, I wondered if I'd ever be free. The deafening beat in my head drummed me to sleep, echoing with the last shot he fired into me, showing me his true face.
Coward. Coward. Coward!
I hated him so much. But in the darkness, I hated Anton even more. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw myself bracing for his sickening touch. Sex brought us close, gave me an opportunity to use him the same way he'd used me.
The weapon I dreamed about was always different. Sometimes it was a handgun, which I picked up, pressed to his rock hard chest, and fired. Other times, it my uncle's switchblade, and I slid it across the Russian's throat when he tried to give me one of those heart stopping kisses.
Up until then, I'd never truly wanted to kill a human being with such gruesome need. Guess it ran in the blood.
When I woke up, something like a bad hangover fogged my brain, I told myself I'd never let my uncle call me a coward again. He'd never get to speak for my poor dead parents either.
He'd get his blood war, his vengance, and then he'd never get anything from me again. The bastard was right – there was no leaving and getting on with my life until I knew the men who'd used me and betrayed me were destroyed.
I was going to kill Anton Ivankov, and both his psycho brothers too, if luck was kind.
His goons gave me the evil eye the next day. Still, they didn't stop me from knocking at the door to his study.
Uncle Gioulio's kinder eyes met me as soon as he opened the door. Overnight, his Hyde retreated back into his inner Jekyll, and now he was playing the kindly old uncle again.