Unraveled (Guzzi Duet Book 1)(63)

“Don’t try lying,” Gian interrupted swiftly. “It was pure fucking luck that nobody saw your yellow piece of shit that day, and nothing more. The problem is, somebody did see it. She only happened to remember it today. Lying makes this last longer, man. See how that works?”

“He told me to use another car,” Louis said hoarsely. “I couldn’t get my hands on one.”

“Stupid.”

The man nodded, his silent agreement.

“Why Cara?” Gian asked.

“She was a means to an end.”

“The end being what, exactly?”

“He wanted to get you to fall in line,” Louis said. “You weren’t following the fucking rules, okay? He said taking something away from you might put you back in your place.”

Edmond had a lot to learn about Gian, but he saved that lesson for another day.

“Tell me about the bomb, and Corrado,” Gian urged.

Louis’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“The bomb on my car. The murder of my grandfather. This isn’t fucking rocket science.”

“I didn’t do those things.”

“I didn’t say you did them. I want you to tell me what you know about them.”

“Nothing,” Louis said quickly. “I know nothing.”

“I fucking told you not to lie.” Gian sighed, already readying and aiming his gun for Louis’s other kneecap. “You had to make this hard—”

“I’m not lying! I swear, I swear I’m not fucking lying!”

Gian barely held back from plugging the asshole with another bullet. “Why in the hell should I believe you?”

“I’m going to die, anyway,” Louis mumbled, his gaze never leaving the gun in Gian’s hand. “What good does lying do for me now?”

He had a point.

“So you know nothing about those two events,” Gian said, wanting to clarify.

“Because my grandfather didn’t do them,” Louis replied.

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I know Edmond said he would have had Corrado shot from behind, so at least the funeral could have been an open casket.”

Gian clenched his teeth so hard at that admission that his molars ached. “Did he now?”

“He didn’t need to kill Corrado. He was already dying.”

“How the fuck do you know that?”

“I didn’t know—my grandfather did. Edmond told me after. Why kill a man that’s already got one foot in the grave, huh?”

Gian didn’t have the answer for that one.

And he was done with this conversation, now.

Standing, Gian brushed off his pants. Louis looked up at him in enough time to see Gian’s gun pointed directly at his head.

Always look at a man when you take his life.

Corrado’s words echoed in Gian’s mind.

He deserves that respect.

Gian pulled the trigger, and didn’t look away.





Cara woke with a start, jerking upward on the couch at the sound of a door slamming shut somewhere in the penthouse. She scrubbed her eyes with the back of one hand as she went in search of the cause of the noise. Soon, she had narrowed it down to a bathroom, as the sound of water ran heavily behind the door. She assumed it was Gian, because he should have been back by now, and Chris had not followed her into the penthouse when he’d delivered her there earlier.

“Gian?” she called, rapping her knuckles to the white wood.

“Sorry, ma chérie. I didn’t mean to wake you. Head into bed, I’ll be there in a minute.”

She knocked again, instead. “It’s like one in the morning, Gian.”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“Open the door.”

A heavy sigh followed the request, but she heard the latch on the door unlock. Cara opened the door herself, stepping in to find Gian stripped down to his boxer-briefs as he scrubbed a bar of soap up and down his arms with forceful strokes. Bloodstained clothes rested at his feet, forgotten beside a waiting trash bag.

Gian picked up a cigarette from the counter, and took a drag, exhaling thick, white smoke to the ceiling. That was a new thing.

“Since when do you smoke?” Cara asked.

“Not very fucking often, that’s when.”

Gian continued his work like Cara wasn’t even in the room, dragging the bar of soap against his fingernails until he seemed pleased that it had done its job. On the counter beside his burning cigarette, a Berretta sat dismantled, as though it too were waiting to be cleaned.

He was almost mindless in his task, barely paying her any attention. Scrub, wash, dry. Scrub, wash, dry. He scrubbed parts of his body that Cara was sure had nothing on them. Occasionally, he’d glance into the mirror for a moment, or lift up his burning cigarette for another drag, but then he was right back at his task once more.

Cara had a million and one questions to ask. The part of her that hated these sights, and knew good and well what they meant, wanted to demand answers so she could confirm what she already understood.

The bigger part of her that loved Gian, didn’t say a thing. It was a choice she had to make. So she made it. Cara found it surprising, how easy it was to make that choice.

“Do you need something?” Cara asked.