The Fall(52)

Asshole couldn’t take care of his own problems so he needed a fall guy, someone not connected to any family. That kind of thing would have the capacity to make World War III play out on the streets of Chicago. Avenging the death of a child isn’t something you can just forgive, not in the eyes of your enemies. It was all about keeping up appearances.

“There was no leak of information, all the players knew the plan except me.” I fought the urge to put my fist through a wall.

“I honestly thought the money was going to be enough.” His death rattle caused him to pause more than usual. “You had an opportunity for more money than you’ve ever earned. And I handed her to you on a silver platter. I’d never guess you’d act honorably.”

“You motherf*cker.” I hated to be played, and I was beyond pissed I hadn’t f*cking seen it. “I’ve met a lot of pieces of shit in my time, but you take the f*cking cake.”

“Don’t pretend to be offended.” Jimmy laughed, like the cocksucker was f*cking amused. “This was business. There was no way for me to sanction a hit on my only daughter. Not publically. You honestly think I didn’t have the means to protect her if I needed to? It had to be you.”

“So Franco was what?” The last time those two *s were in the same room, three people died. Their vendettas ran deep. “A motherf*cking charade? You two hate each other.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Jimmy rasped, his voice getting hoarse from the conversation. “You ever hear that saying? In this instance we needed to work together. Like I said, it was business. But he was getting impatient and thought you needed more persuasion. He was never going to kill you.”

Oh, good to know. Because being f*cking double-crossed is totally cool as long as the * doesn’t kill me.

“Go f*ck yourself, Jimmy. This isn’t how I operate.”

“You’re right, and maybe I should have been more upfront.” He had the nerve to sound apologetic. “Saved the time, but it is what is and I couldn’t risk her mother finding out. The shock . . . well, it would kill her and I would already be mourning my daughter.”

There weren’t a lot of times I’d been speechless, but this was one of those times. Not because of what he was asking me to do. I’d killed for a lot less money and even less motivation. But I was no one’s f*cking puppet and I refused to have my strings pulled so some * sleeps better at night.

“Finish the job, deliver her body and you’ll get the money.” Jimmy filled the silence when I didn’t speak. “It’s time this ends.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“Don’t pretend you grew a conscience.” His words were slow, breaths jagged as he tried to form the sentences. “We both know you have no soul, why do you think I picked you in the first place? You have a gift, son. You can do what other men are afraid to do. Don’t fight your nature and kill her, take the money.”

I didn’t bother with a response, ending the call with a click of my finger. There was no need to turn around and see Sofia; I’d felt her eyes on me while I was talking. Part of me had wanted her to hear it, wanting her to know that her father thought her life was worth nothing more than a bundle of cash.

“You won’t kill me.” She came up behind me and rested her hand on the back of my chair. “I know you won’t do it.”

“You should have run.”

The gun in my hand was pointed at her before I’d even realized what I was doing, the barrel pressed up against her stomach. All I had to do was pull the trigger. Just one squeeze, and like Jimmy said, end it.

“You have a soul, Michael.” She kept her eyes locked on mine, refusing to acknowledge the gun at point blank range. “I’ve seen it. There’s good in you. Don’t do this.”

“If it’s not me, it will be someone else. I’ll make sure it’s quick.”

I stood slowly, rising to full height as she stayed in place in front of me. She had to be afraid but she wasn’t showing it, her hands idle by each side as I watched.

Never had I seen anyone confronting their death with not even a twitch. And yet, for whatever reason she didn’t move a muscle. Like she’d become a statue in front of my very eyes.

Fuck, she was beautiful.

I’d seen it before—the superficial stuff at least, the pretty face, hot body—but it was her f*cking courage that was currently giving me a hard-on. In all these years I’d never met anyone so fearless.

“I know you are capable of doing this. Maybe you even want to, but don’t.” She raised her hand slowly, showing me her open palm before she rested it on my heart. “You have a soul, I promise you.”

And f*ck me if I didn’t want to believe her.

Women had touched me before, but only while I was f*cking them and only with my permission. But her hand on my chest didn’t feel like that, the connection not sexual. It made my skin heat, and I had no idea if I liked it.

“I don’t want to kill you.” I meant it too. “But this is who I am.”

“No, it’s not.”

I wanted her to beg for her life. I wanted her to cry and get down on her knees and pray. I wanted to see fear in her eyes. It was what I was used to; it’s what was safe. But she wouldn’t give me any of those things. And it was scrambling my head so bad I almost wanted to turn the gun on myself.