He works his jaw, his hands clenched into fists. A vein pops in the side of his neck. He’s about to snap, I can feel it. But the tattooed man won’t let up.
“How many years of your life have you lived in ignorance, never questioning the lies?”
“Dead men will say anything to stay alive,” Armani says. “You had your chance.”
“Don’t you want to knowexactlywhat Bruno did when he got his hands on your sweet Liliana—”
“You aren’t worthy to say their names, asshole!”
With that, a growl comes from Armani’s throat, and he storms to the other side of the chair and shoves Clayton aside.
Armani lets loose a raging kick, and the chair tumbles into the hole in the floor, leaving the prisoner gasping and choking, suspended by the wire wrapped around his neck.
I know what’s coming next, but I don’t look away.
28
ARMANI
“Candi.”
She shakes her head, backing up against the wall as I reach for her. Her eyes are blank, her lips pressed into a thin line. I can’t get her to look at me.
Dammit. I should have known she wouldn’t be able to handle this. But I needed her to see the full, ugly truth of what she’s had her hands in. Working for the Brunos, no matter the capacity, means being complicit in every vile thing they do. She wants to spy on me? Then she’s going to get a hard look at what I give her, and today, that was a front-row seat to the worst of what I’m capable of.
Still, the certainty with which I’d brought her to the Deep Cellar is long gone. I don’t regret it. But maybe I could have subjected her to less. I wanted to punish her, but the shut-down look on her face right now isn’t the reaction I expected.
Too bad. I’m not going to baby her. What’s done is done.
The tattooed man is dead.
But after all these months of hunting him and reeling him in, knowing it’s finally over, that I’ve avenged my father’s death, the kidnapping of Livvie, the tampering of Marco’s race car and the attempt on his life…why don’t I feel better?
The white-hot anger I’ve been carrying around during the search for him hasn’t lessened. If anything, it’s worse—and growing by the second. Killing him should have released all my pent-up rage and suspicious paranoia, but I’m more tense than I was before. It’s no secret why. I let my emotions drive me. It’s indefensible. That’s not how I operate. It’s not who I am.
Armani Bellanti never loses his cool.
But that piece of shit never should have spoken about my mother and sister.
How dare he tarnish their memories with his filthy mouth. That bastard had to take one last desperate stab at me by invoking their names, spewing nothing but lies. And yet…how could he have known anything about them? What did he mean, saying I didn’t know the truth about what happened? That I’ve been living in ignorance? That Bruno had gotten his hands on Lili?
Impossible.
They drowned and they didn’t come home. End of story.
Fuck!
Remembering my wife, I take her by the wrist. Her flesh is cold and clammy in my grip, and she doesn’t fight back when I pull her against me. She’s clearly in shock. Shaking her lightly, I lift her chin and urge her to focus.
“Hey, look at me,” I say firmly. “Look at me right now.”
Swallowing hard, she reluctantly meets my eyes. She’s pale. Her lower lip trembles.
Clayton eyes us from his spot by the body, which he’s wrapping in a tarp now, but he knows better than to say a damn thing. Is he judging me for bringing Candi here, or for killing the man we’ve both hunted so long in the heat of the moment, when he could have provided valuable information to us? Fine, let Clayton judge. His hands are as dirty as mine.
“Finish up here,” I tell him. “I’m taking her home.”
“Copy that.”
