“Because she’s a stupid bitch who didn’t appreciate what she had.” He sounded small and petulant. “You take a girl out and show her a nice time, and then she just… ghosts you?” Russo looked incredulous. “I took her outtwice, and she doesn’t return my calls?”
I blinked fast. “You stalked a woman who wouldn’t go out on a third date?” She wasn’t even a girlfriend. That was an acquaintance at best.
“Sheowedme,” Russo said, eyes a thundercloud of entitlement and rage.
I glanced at Jude. His eyes were wide and telegraphing the messageThis guy has lost it.
“And I owe you, too?” I was trying to understand the psychosis.
“Yes,” Russo said softly. “You can’t just leave without saying goodbye. You let me think you liked me, and then you left Chicagojust like that. Were you ever coming back?” His voice was a high whine.
Wow. For a guy who talked about being tough, he sure got his feelings hurt an awful lot.
Two feet separated me from the barrel of Russo’s gun.
“You’ve got to see it. We’re meant to be together,” he continued. “We’re the same. You’re just too scared to admit it to yourself, kid. Think about how great it would be if you let yourself off that leash you’ve been holding on to so tightly. Rules. Laws. Society. It doesn’t concern people like us.”
I heard an urgent murmur from Jude. I met his scared gaze. Jude was my conscience. I knew what he’d say.
We need the rule of law. We need due process. If people started taking matters into their own hands, we really would be mired in chaos, and innocent people would get hurt.
Jude didn’t need to worry. No way was I joining forces with this crackpot.
“Murdering people is wrong.” I couldn’t believe I had to spell this out.
“Unless they deserve it,” he corrected.
“Really? What about Olga Duncan? What did she do to deserve it?”
“Who the hell is Olga Duncan?” Russo asked, genuinely baffled.
“The first Canceled Killer victim. Right here in Lake Sanguis. I guess you’ve been here before?”
Russo still looked puzzled. “I never came here before this week.”
Maybe Russo’s mental illness went deeper than fixating on women who rejected him. Did he have a split personality, too?
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Russo said. “Kiss… marry… kill?” He flicked the barrel of his gun from Mateo toJude and back again. “Or, you know what? Let’s play a new game. Kill… kill… marry? I think I’ll start with Brother’s Best Friend.”
I met Jude’s gaze. No. Absolutely not. I stepped in front of the barrel.
“Martyrdom doesn’t look good on you, kid,” Russo said, shaking his head. “Move.”
“Tell me why you got sloppy. Why did you use a lemon from the grocery store for the mayor? But not for Gordon Allen?”
Russo flashed me an unreadable smile. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he teased.
“Good thing I’ve got nine lives.”
I lunged then, incorporating Irene’s favorite Krav Maga move to disarm an attacker. Grab the barrel of the gun and twist. His gun went clattering to the ground.
Admiration flashed in Russo’s eyes.
“Nice play,” he admitted. “But still a bad decision, kid.”
Then he took a swing.
Nineteen
