She doesn’t respond, but instead, moves to the small safe she keeps underneath her desk adjacent to the galley kitchen.
She bends to turn the dial to unlock it, and when she stands up, she has a small black revolver cupped in her hands.
Not that I am unfamiliar with guns but seeing her about to hand me one immediately snaps me out of my daze. “Vanessa, what the fuck?”
“I can lose my badge for this, but I want you to bring this with you today.”
“To work? Are you fucking crazy? Why do I need to bring a gun to work?”
“If what I suspect is correct about Mr. Moretti, this is the least of your worries. Just take it, you know how to use it.” Vanessa hands me the revolver. I look to her as she nods her head in approval. I unzip the front pocket of my purse and slip the revolver inside of it before heading to the door.
It has been years since I last shot one of these. Papa used to take me out to the range whenever he felt a moment of guilt that he wasn’t home enough. Since I was an only child and not a son, Papa’s idea of bonding was mostly centered around things that he wanted to do. It didn’t bother me. I felt like when I was with my father, I could be myself. A woman, not a prim and proper lady, like my mother so desperately wished I would be.
I walk out of the apartment lobby to find Eric already sitting in the driver’s seat of the town car. I’m relieved he doesn’t come to the door to open it for me. After that interaction with Nessa this morning, and whatever was up with him last night, I am in no mood for forced pleasantries.
“Good morning,” I greet him as I slide into the back seat.
“Morning, Sienna. Mr. Moretti informed me of a different meeting location today,” he states as he looks to his side view before merging into the bustling avenue.
“Another location?” I ask, but Eric ignores my question.
My stomach drops as nausea begins to creep in, thinking of what this other location could be. Then, I grip my purse, remembering the little gift Nessa gave me this morning, which eases my anxiety.
I wonder if she had an inkling of where I would be working today and that’s why she gave me her gun. I should be more concerned, but I know Nes, she is my best friend, she wouldn’t feed me to the lions. She gave me the gun to protect myself, from what exactly, I don’t know, but I will not go down without a fight, that’s for damn sure.
I am here for a reason. In this city, in this moment, broken, stitched together by a needle and thread, but here, nonetheless. I was spared that night for a purpose, and now, I want to find out who is responsible for the situation I find myself in.
Chapter36
Carmine
The morning light pours into the barren warehouse, bringing with it a welcome glow, highlighting my father’s bound and gagged body on the metal chair he is still passed out on. I know I gave him a hefty amount of sleeping pills to be able to drag and secure him in place, but I was expecting him to be awake by now. Impatience begins to take over as I stare at my watch, trying to time this morning’s pre-work endeavor, making sure I have ample time before Ms. Ricci arrives. I can’t wait to hear her high heels tap the concrete floor of this warehouse as she witnesses the gift of my well-curated act of vengeance.
My shoes make an exaggerated crunching sound as I step on the plastic tarp I have laid beneath where my father remains bound to the chair. The crunching noise continues as I circle around him. He should be awake by now. Fucking Christ, this man can’t even arrive to his death sentence properly.
After the discovery of the missing box last night, as well as my little chat with Vanessa at The Sandy Claws, I called daddy dearest here under the guise of having a drink to discuss business at the warehouse. Naturally, he obliged my request, foolishly thinking I wanted some father-son bonding time. I scoff at the thought because I have zero desire to spend any quality time together.
He hates me just as much as I hate him. Though, for whatever reason, he accepted my invitation, giving me the opportunity to confront him about my mounting suspicions against him.
To my surprise, he showed up to the warehouse solo. A rare sighting, seeing as he always has his minions in tow. He is naïve to think that I wanted legitimate time with him. However, I am thankful because it granted me the opportunity to do what I have craved to do for so long, even sooner. Eliminate him from the space he takes up on Earth.
Before I could get to that part; I did what any loving son would do. I slipped him one too many crushed-up sleeping pills in his whiskey and waited until his pudgy system finally passed out. I then laid out this obnoxiously loud, yet effective, tarp and began the process of lugging his fat ass onto the chair and tied him up like a piece of meat about to be roasted.
Painfully aware that I am running out of time, and immensely eager to do what I have wanted to do since the day my father killed what little good was left in me, I kick his shin, trying to nudge him awake. His large calf feels like kicking fucking steel. If it weren’t for the black dress shoes I chose to wear today, my foot would be throbbing. Still, he doesn’t move, so I lift my leg once more, with more force in my kick.
A whimper falls from his lips, as he begins to wake up. Groggy still, his eyes remain closed as his large frame begins to wiggle slightly before coming fully to and realizing there are restraints on him.
“Oh, Father …” I tease. “Wake up.”
He wiggles his wrist once as he begins to come to, before jolting forward. Taking in his surroundings, his eyes widen as he tries to take a deep breath in. He begins to choke on the handkerchief I have stuffed in his mouth, and a devious chuckle escapes me as I revel in the bastard choking on his own air.
Ah, I suppose I should play the role of the loving son and save my father from his choking spell. It’s only right. He should be able to speak his piece before I take away his ability to do so …forever.
I rip the fabric from his mouth. Disgusted with the damp feel of the cloth, I throw it to the ground, where it falls on the tarp. I shake my hand in disgust as he gasps and chokes some more.
He looks at me with pleading eyes, finally realizing where he is. “Son, please, what is this?”
I take a smoke from the pack in my suit pocket and take my time dangling the lighter in my hand, slowly flicking it and bringing it to the tip of my cigarette. I inhale as I inch myself right in front of him, letting my height tower over him. Looking down at him, I exhale, allowing the smoke to billow all over him. He begins to cough and squirm some more, now rocking the metal chair, making an awful echo throughout the warehouse of crinkling tarp and metal hitting cement flooring.
