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“To round up your brother,” Colin said, making a whimper escape me.
The only thing worse than being tortured by myself was being tortured with my innocent brother.
By our twisted sibling.
With that, he was gone.
And I was alone with Lucas and his resentment and his hatred and his clear insanity.
I couldn’t really explain what happened right then.
But I sort of slipped inside my head, dulling the real world as my brain raced to remind me of so many things at once.
First, that it was Nicky’s day off. He wouldn’t be as easy to track down. He liked to go out, to party, to meet girls. And it was just late enough that he was likely in the full swing of that.
I also knew that he chose not to party in town because he didn’t like the way some of the women looked at him. Like he was a monster for being involved with Colin and his crew.
So it wasn’t like Colin and his men could walk into one of the bars or clubs in the neighborhood and find him. He could literally be anywhere. It wasn’t even all that uncommon for him to dip down to Philly or up to New York City when he really wanted to let off some steam.
I was praying that was the case.
Because they wouldn’t be able to find him until the next morning or afternoon at the latest.
By then, Massimo and his brothers would definitely be back in town and watching since their plan was to move Sunday night.
They certainly wouldn’t miss Nicky getting picked up and escorted somewhere against his will. Or even him going willingly. Because it would look weird. They’d been watching the crew for too long to miss how off that behavior was.
From there, they would follow.
Then see me.
And hopefully intervene before either of us ended up dead.
I didn’t let myself entertain the ways in which Massimo or his brothers would intervene. Quite frankly, despite the fact that he was screaming in my face and putting his hands on me, my heart couldn’t take the idea of Lucas being killed.
Even if, logically, I knew that was going to be the only fate available to him if the Grassi guys showed up in time.
“Answer me!” Lucas roared. And something about the ferocity of his voice had me snapping back to reality, becoming acutely aware of my surroundings again, of the pain in my face, of the pacing animal in front of me.
“I didn’t hear the question,” I said, because I figured that if I kept him talking and distracted, there would be less pain to endure.
“You’re going to confess to everything you told me before Colin showed up,” Lucas explained, and it was then I realized he had his phone out, likely recording me to show his hero Colin when he returned with our brother.
Maybe a confession was what I would need to do.
A long, rambling, never-ending confession of every minute detail of what I had done behind Colin’s back for years.
Because it would vindicate Lucas, which would make his emotions switch from his irrational rage to pride that he’d figured me out and gotten the truth out of me.
“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Where do you want me to start?”
“From the beginning,” Lucas said.
So then I launched into it.
A tale so long and detailed and filled with absolute, complete bullshit because it just helped pass the time. I mixed fact with fiction, concocting elaborate stories about placing listening devices and trying to sabotage Rizzo’s Deli.
I wentin.
