by Cari Quinn
Deep down, I knew. Brenda wouldn’t get off with a warning. The group of men that I was trying to infiltrate viewed the girls as their property, and they wouldn’t see a sign of supposed disrespect as something to be taken lightly. Most of the ladies at the club moonlighted, and that was fine as long as they did it discreetly. But handfuls of money weren’t discreet. And fuck, I should’ve known better than to send her off with a target on her chest. I hadn’t realized she was spoken for—and by Lorenzo, especially—and that too was on me. It was my job to know. I’d been slacking on recon lately, choosing to spend the bare minimum of time to achieve my aims.
And now yet another innocent girl would pay. Because of me.
“Sit. We will talk business until Lorenzo can join us.” Marco gestured to the couch where I’d been seated. “You won your fight tonight. Lo will be pleased.”
Ignoring him, I strode toward the door. I had no intention of sitting if I could help Brenda. Fuck my cover. Fuck everything.
The scream halted me in my tracks. For an instant, I was sure it was Carly. Thin, high-pitched. Why had I left her alone in a place like this? Vipers cloaked themselves in expensive threads, and she wouldn’t know which ones to avoid.
Once the ice clogging my lungs cleared, I rushed out of the room and along the wide hall, scarcely aware of how quiet it had gone downstairs. The voices had turned into a low hum, and no one was laughing anymore.
I chanced a glance over the railing and the sight at the bottom of the spiral staircase made my lungs seize once again. A shout got trapped my throat, coming out as a pained gasp. It was too late.
The girl lay crumpled next to the last step, her long hair incapable of hiding the pool of dark fluid spreading across the black and white tiles. The red lights only made the scene more macabre. Her hair was dark, but for an instant it was reddish-gold, as bright as the setting sun.
Someone joined me at the rail and without looking, I knew it was Marco. He placed a placating hand on my arm, patting it as if he felt genuine remorse. “Accidents can strike at any time.”
“That was no accident,” I spat, unwilling to bite my tongue.
Marco’s gaze hardened. “I don’t see anyone stepping forward to point a finger, do you?”
Of course no one was stepping forward. To do so would be to put your head on a platter for Lorenzo and his goons. No one had that kind of death wish.
Except me. I courted death daily. If I won my latest fight or I died, either way I’d be closer to my goal. One step closer to eviscerating Emilia’s murderer or to being with her again. Or if there was no afterlife, to finally feeling nothing. No remorse, no guilt, no grief. Just…nothing.
That was a kind of heaven I’d never get to experience while my heart still beat.
“It’s a hard thing,” Marco said, clearly reading my silence as capitulation.
That’s what he called the senseless loss of life? Worst of all, this fuck was a distant cousin of Emilia’s. He, of all people, should hate the suffering caused for such insignificant reasons.
But then Emilia loving me hadn’t been considered insignificant at all. Her feelings for me—and my reciprocation—had been seen as deliberate defiance. Generations of our relatives had reviled each other, and we had no right to buck the trend.
“She was barely twenty,” I said under my breath, gripping the rail to keep from turning to bash the bastard’s head in. I could kill him in a matter of minutes. The police were on their way no doubt, but he’d be dead before he even hit the floor.
And everything I’d worked for up until this point would be ruined.
“Twenty-two,” he said, as if that made a difference. She was my age, and she’d never even truly gotten a chance to live.
I said nothing, just focused on the breaths rattling my ribcage as I watched the people swarm around Brenda’s motionless body. Most people stayed far away. She’d become less than a bug to them, worse than a mess left behind by a pet. One woman simply stepped over the arm Brenda had thrown out in a futile effort to break her fall.
In the distance, sirens blared. Help was coming. Too late for her. For any of us.
“You should go,” Marco said in my ear. “In the mood Lo is in, he might tag you for soliciting. Along with your illegal fight record, you might be looking at more than a book-and-release.”
Incredulous, I stared at the other man. “He might nab me for soliciting when he just snapped her neck?”
Marco smiled, slow and sure. “Ah, amico, you have no evidence. And Lo, he is an upstanding member of this community. He has many friends on the force. Even in the courthouse.” He flicked a finger over the diamond stud in his ear, and two goons materialized out of nowhere. “It would be better, safer, for you if you left before the heat arrives.”
Fury rose up inside me, threatening to block my airway. I couldn’t walk away, not while she lay down there alone. No one was paying her any mind. Not Lorenzo, nor any of the other waitresses I’d seen her laughing with more than once. They knew better. When someone got hurt, the rest of the rats got lost.
“I have business with Lorenzo,” I said, not sparing a glance for the two muscled jackasses who were crowding close to my back. Not touching, but almost. I could smell the meatball sub Jackass Number One had eaten for dinner on his breath.
“Yes, and it will be seen to once the smoke has cleared. Trust me, you would not want to deal with him tonight.” Another condescending pat on the arm. “Go, Gio. We will be in touch.”
A glance back at the fuckers who shadowed me and I knew I had no choice but to abide by the dickhead’s wishes. Not because I couldn’t have taken both men. I’d spent many hours training until my hands screamed and my eyes stung with sweat and exhaustion, and I’d honed my skills to a lethal edge. But a scene wouldn’t help Brenda, and it would kill my chance to avenge Emilia.
I would only get one of those, and I’d worked too hard and come too far to screw it up now.
Sending up a quick prayer on Brenda’s behalf, I nodded to the men. “Let’s go.”
As I turned from the rail, a flash of reddish-blonde hair caught my eye in the crowd. My stomach fisted and smoothed out again. After the horrors I’d witnessed—and caused—tonight, at least I could tell myself one thing to help mitigate some of the damage. It wasn’t enough to make up for Brenda’s death, nothing would be, but it was important just the same.
I’d driven Carly away. She wouldn’t have stayed after I’d gone into the VIP room with Brenda. Which meant she would be safe. The death count was much too high, but Carly would be far removed from all of it.
She was untouched.
Safe.
And unlike Emilia, she would stay that way. I would stake my life on it.
If you’d like to learn more about the TAPPED OUT series, please visit CariQuinn.com for more details.
