End Game (19 page)

The ferocity in his eyes fans out like flames, so much so that I tremble from their intensity. What if that violence was directed towards me? At the same time, I’m jealous. My brother would probably gloat if he saw me like this.

“Your sister was lucky to have a brother like you.”

His eyes glaze over and he abruptly stands up from the couch, turning away from me with a shuddering sigh. Did I say something wrong?

A lump rises in my throat, as he heads for the door.
Please don
’
t go.
I’m desperate to say something that’ll stall him.

“Do you want something to drink?”

The various knick-knacks on the kitchen counter rattle as he slams his fist on the marble. I’m on my feet before I realize it, raising a tentative hand to his shoulder. He throws it off roughly, and then he grabs my hands. His lip curls.

I flinch horribly and try to draw breath from a rapidly shrinking hole in my chest. I remember their rough hands on me, slapping my face. He notices my fear and a desolate look haunts his face.

“I don’t know why you’re acting like this,” he says in a desperate voice. It’s unlike him. “I’m here to
help
you. Why can’t you just let me?”

Because I don
’
t trust you yet.

“I want to, but I can’t.”

I look back towards him unblinkingly, until he lets go of my hands with a growl.

“I’ve got to go.”

My heart seizes in a way that makes me feel absolutely miserable. His feet clip over the hardwood floors as he walks to the door. I follow him as he turns around to say goodbye.

“I have to report this to Jack.”

Don
’
t go. Please don
’
t go.

My lip quivers and a tear runs down my face, and Joe looks at me like I’ve destroyed his life.

“See you soon.”

He reaches out and touches my face again, fingers brushing lightly on my bruised skin.

* * *

Make a decision.

Choose.

New York or New Jersey?

The decision seems like it would be an easy one, but both families have left behind a trail of bodies.

Carmine Lucchesi slaughters Jersey mob boss and crew

Mass-murderer Lucchesi convicted; sentenced to life

Vittorio family mobster indicted on charges of fraud, racketeering, murder

Vincent Cesare, notorious Vittorio mobster, evades jail again

I wish I could become a mouse. I want to scurry away and burrow in a soft place and just hide from everything and everyone. The light from my laptop shines with the intensity of a small sun. I close the lid and stare at my desk, extremely grateful that Joe isn’t here today.

Also weighing on my mind—the forty grand I supposedly owe. There’s another board meeting at the end of the week, where Nathan will undoubtedly push for the sale of the company.

I need to decide.

Soon
.

I decide to take a stroll out of the office. Heads perk up from cubicles and chimes of greetings echo as I walk by. A forced smile stretches my face as the greetings fall on my ears. I wonder if any of them really care about me—about my dad. Was he surrounded by sycophants? Is that why he allowed the company to fall into disrepair?

Either way, my first priority will be to get the casino out of the clutches of the Vittorio family. By any means necessary. I’ll need to make some cutbacks; I probably will have to let some people go. The VP of marketing is in my crosshairs. So far, his efforts have failed to bring in more traffic into the casino. We should be at college campuses, at the airport, drumming up interest in the casino.

“Marisa, how’s it going?”

The man I met at the funeral, James Blackwell, jogs to my side as I walk along to security.

“All right,” I grunt.

“Oh my God, that’s—what happened to your face?”

“I—uh—”

His face is widened in concern, and I prepare the same excuse I’ve used on everyone else.

“I got mugged, but it’s all right. The cops chased him down and I got my wallet back.”

He lets out an incredulous noise. “How horrible!”

“Yeah, it was scary.”

I’m trying to shake off this guy before he asks any more questions, but he keeps following me.

“I was wondering if you’ve given any more thought to the offer presented to us by Lences Holdings. Have you looked at it?”

Fuck.

James follows me into security, a well-lit room with a hundred different monitors. “Yeah, I’ve looked at it. I’m still not interested.”

Disappointment flashes over his face. “But—their offer is extraordinarily generous, Marisa. Think about how much you’d make! You’re the biggest shareholder—”

“It doesn’t matter to me. It’s not about the money. I don’t trust them, and I won’t leave the company in their hands.”

If only he know what he was asking for. He takes my wrist in his hand gently and I look into his pitying eyes.

“I think you’ll find that you’re alone in that thinking.”

Unnerved by his stare, I pull my arm out of his hand and walk out the door. I hurry down the steps, ignoring the gasps thrown my way. Fucking makeup didn’t help at all.

Alone? What does that mean? Have they been convening behind my back? Fuck!

Down the stairs, the hustle and noise of the casino grinds into my ears and I step out the front doors, heading towards my parked car. I parked right under a giant floodlight, but my hands still shake as I dig into my purse for the goddamn keys. I can’t find them.

It’s a cool night, but starless. The obnoxious lights of the casino pollute the skies with colors. Not a sound. Not a whisper of anything.

Then I notice him.

A shadow shifting in between cars.

It
’
s just a customer returning to his car. Relax.

Right.

My heart lodges somewhere in my throat. I swallow it back down as a cold feeling creeps up my legs, stiffening them like a poison working its way through my body. He wheels around the car in front of me. I see his face. It’s Frank, the one who punched the side of my face.

He came for me.

Frank stops in front of me like a murky apparition and smiles, his eyes wandering over the side of my face as he admires his handiwork. “I believe you owe us something.”

His hip bumps against mine and I flatten against my car, hands trembling at my sides. “I have ten in the car. I can’t just withdraw that much all at once.”

“Not good, Ms. Toffoli.” Hardened eyes flash as he takes my neck in his hand and squeezes slightly. “Well? Where the fuck is it?”

I revolve on the spot, so frightened that I can’t even remember how to open my car door. Blood pounds in my head hard, making me sway.

Get a grip and open the door.

I open the door and grab the manila envelope stuffed with cash. He snatches it from me and looks inside.

“All right. You need to come with me.”

His hand flies out and grabs my neck, which is still sore from his attack. I swallow back a scream as he yanks me. My shoes scrape on the cement as I resist him. “I won’t!”

“You stupid fucking cunt,” he spits in my face. “Did you think we’d forget about this? That we’d leave you alone? All you had to do was bring the fucking money. Now I’m going to have to pay a visit to your little sister.” His voice drops to a carnivorous whisper. “She seems real sweet.”

The fingers bite into my flesh, choking off a response. My vision clouds with tears, and I think about my little sister. She was my little princess. The doll I played with. I can’t utter a word. My lungs burn and I make horrible gulping sounds as he squeezes. I have to escape. My knee launches into his stomach, and he doubles over with a harsh cry. His hand slips from my neck and I stumble from the car, dazed.

Run!

“Fucking bitch!”

My ankle twists as I lunge forward, a heavy stone block slamming into my leg. I slam into the concrete, and the skin on my hand burns, but I barely register it. I roll over, pain searing up my leg. Frank is above me, but there’s someone behind him. A man in a dark blue suit holds a gun to Frank’s head, who still hasn’t realized Joe is behind him.

“Take one fucking step towards her, and I’ll blow your head off.”

Still on the ground, I watch wide-eyed as Frank inclines his head towards Joe, sneering. Joe sounds like a completely different person, his Brooklyn accent more pronounced.

“Joey DiFiore, is it?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m from Jersey, asshole. Carmine Lucchesi wanted me to pass on a message to Vincent’s wife—”

“I have a message of my own to your boss.” His teeth grind together in a smirk. Usually his smile fills me with warmth, but this one makes me downright petrified.

He’s going to do something.

“Yeah?”

The sneer on Frank’s face doesn’t quite disappear as an explosion rips through his head. I scream at the top of my lungs as it pierces my ears. A glut of dark blood vomits from the side of his head, and he falls like a marionette with broken strings. Frank smashes face-first into the pavement, bits of flesh that look like clotted blood shining on the ground.

He killed him.

He’s dead.

I look over the corpse to Joe standing over the body with rage thickening his features. He wipes his gun with the edge of his jacket, and then he takes a tissue out of his pocket and cleans his face.

Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“You killed him.”

He merely looks at me. “I’ve done worse.”

Worse?

“Stop!” I cry out when he takes a step closer to me, and then I crawl on my hands and knees, screaming out in pain when I put weight on my ankle. I need to
run
from him.

“Stay the fuck still.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? You
killed
him! There are cameras everywhere around this place—”

There’s no look of horror on his face for what he’s done. No shock. No self-disgust.

He’s a fucking
monster
.

“I have a guy in the inside who will take care of that.” Joe tucks the gun away and looks around for witnesses, and then he kicks the manila folder. “What’s this?”

I can just imagine the look of my face as blood drains out of it. My hands shake on the pavement. “I—I can explain—”

He picks it up and gives me a suspicious look. As soon as he sees the hundreds of bills, he drops it, his face a mask of shock. “Marisa, why the fuck were you paying off guys in Jersey?”

“T—they came after me. They said my dad was involved with them, too. I had to pay them off, or die. They wanted me to sell the company—”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” He screams into the night, standing over me with balled fists, looking like he’d like to kick me. “Jesus FUCKING Christ!” He paces in front of me, and aims a violent kick to the corpse at his feet, flipping him over. He rains down with horrible blows, and then he slams his fist into my car.

Oh my God.

“Do you realize what you’ve fucking done?”

“No!”

He approaches me, his hand shaking—his whole body trembling. “When Jack finds out, he’ll want you
dead
.”

“It’s not my fault!” I scream. “I was just trying to stall them until I figured out what to do.”

Joe’s menacing face sneers at me, looking just as threatening as the man he just shot. “Stay put. I need to get my car.”

He turns his back on me and walks towards his car, and then a switch flips inside me.

Full, blown panic screaming inside my head.

He will kill you. He will kill you. Run! RUN!

Ignoring the pain in my ankle, I run as fast as I can, stumbling into cars as I head for—what? The casino? The airport? There’s nothing around the immediate area. All I know is the adrenaline racing in my veins, telling me to get out of there, get out of there, get out of there, get out of there.

Screaming tires and metal slide in front of me, and Joe’s ominous face pops out. I run around the car, and hear the door opening and slamming shut.

No!

Terrified, screaming, I sprint away from him, but he’s only seconds behind. Then he grabs me. He grabs me so painfully that I forget who he is, and I fight him furiously. “LET ME GO!”

He smothers my screams with his large hand, which I bite hard. He grunts and twists my arm around my back. Excruciating pain sears up my arm like an exposed nerve, and then Joe’s gruff voice is at my ear.

“I can throw you in the trunk with the body, or you can come in the passenger seat with me. If you make a scene, I will pull over and force you in there.”

I nod, tears streaming down my face as he marches me to the door and opens it. I slip inside, biting my lip against the pain radiating from my ankle.

So this is it.

Entering the car feels like a death sentence. Joe enters the driver’s seat as he opens his phone, looks at it, and crams it back in his jacket. “Fuck!” He gives me a vicious look as he drives back to the body. The lights from the car illuminate the bright red blood and the grotesque head. He keeps the engine running as he parks the car.

“
Stay
.”

He barks at me as if I’m some dog. Then he gets out of the car and I close my eyes as he heaves the body in his arms and shoves it into the trunk. The car bounces slightly when he slams the trunk shut.

When he joins me in the car, he doesn’t say a word to me. He doesn’t even look at me. I get the feeling he’s purposely avoiding looking at me. He slides the phone from his jacket as we drive out of the casino and dials quickly.

“Vince, it’s me. We have a big fucking problem. Yeah, I know what fucking time it is. Meet me at my house. I’m bringing a package.”

He tosses the phone aside.

Another wave of hysteria works its way through my body, trembling through my lungs. I don’t understand what was so terrible about what I did.

“Joe, please. I don’t understand.”

“Will you
please
just shut up?”

Heart aching, I fall silent. My mind churns with the blood-soaked image of the man in the trunk.