Page 249 of Don’t Say Mafia

I watched him go, surprised he’d remembered me at all. Most people in his state that day wouldn’t have. Credit where it was due, though, the man had a talent for clinging to the things that would ruin his life.

“Zachary,” I said quietly.

Zachary didn’t hesitate. He eased off the brake and accelerated forward. The impact was soft—almost gentle—considering. Ryan’s body folded over the hood with a dull thud, his limbs flailing as he slid off the side and hit the pavement hard.

We rolled to a stop, and then I stepped out of the SUV and walked over slowly with my hands in my pockets and my posture relaxed.

Ryan lay curled on his side, one leg bent at a wrong angle. He was still conscious—barely. His eyes were dazed, and blood was already trickling from his mouth.

“Why?” he asked in a garbled voice as I stood over him, unmoved. I cut off any other words he had planned by planting my boot on his neck and pushing down.

His breath stuttered, then broke, a wet, strangled sound tearing out of him as his windpipe collapsed under the force. I felt it through the sole of my shoe, the give of something vital collapsing inward. His hands spasmed once as his fingers clawed uselessly at my ankle, then slid away as his strength failed.

I kept the pressure there until his body went still, and when I crouched to press my gloved fingers against his neck, there was nothing left beating beneath my touch.

To be doubly certain, I stepped back and nodded toward Zachary. He immediately eased the SUV forward, and I watched as the tires rolled over what remained of Ryan. His body disappeared beneath the Escalade EV’s almost ten-thousand-pound frame and reemerged on the other side . . . definitely dead.

The police would call it a hit-and-run. And I guess they’d be mostly right.

I reached into my jacket and withdrew the small packet of cocaine I’d grabbed. His hand rested near his hip and the palm was turned upward as if he’d been reaching for something in his final seconds. I lifted it carefully, then placed the packet against his skin and curled his fingers around it one at a time until it looked like he’d been holding it all along.

Satisfied with the story that would be told, I turned and walked toward the SUV without sparing Ryan another glance. Whatever he’d been five minutes ago no longer required my attention. Problems deserve focus. Corpses don’t.

Zachary had already stepped out and opened the rear door for me. I climbed in smoothly, adjusting my cuffs as the door shut with a solid, insulated thud that sealed the night out again.

“Paradise?” Zachary asked calmly as if he’d just picked me up from dinner.

“Yes.”

The SUV pulled away, and I pulled my phone from my pocket and sent a single message to Cruz.

Me: Done

The typing bubble appeared almost immediately. Then disappeared. Then returned.

Cruz: About time.

I didn’t bother responding.

Eden would get a call at some point tonight during her shift, and words like tragic and accident and we’re so sorry for your loss would be thrown around. And I would be there to support her, of course, concerned and infuriated on her behalf.

I’d be ready to hold her when the shock hit, to remind her she didn’t have to face any of this alone . . . and to slip seamlessly into the space Ryan had been occupying so poorly.

The first phase of the plan had been removal.

The next was . . .comfort.

I loved when a good plan came together.

CHAPTER 14

EDEN

The casino never slept, but it did have moods.

Tonight it felt like a million voices had stacked on top of one another until they blurred into a single, grating hum that scraped along my nerves. I moved on autopilot, stacking glasses, wiping a counter already clean, smiling when someone spoke to me even though I barely heard what they said.

Ryan kept circling in my head instead as I tried to plot out when exactly I could end things and it not kill him.