AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 12
The Decision
Finn
Ihatewhenanyonetalks over the TV. Either turn the damn thing off or shut your fucking mouth. It grates on my nerves like a rusty, serrated blade. I fucking hate it. So right now, as Cash yells an endless stream, I have no idea what the fuck he’s saying. The governor’s press conference is blaring on the TV and his voice is like nails on a chalkboard.
I run my hand over my eyes to keep from ripping my goddamn hair out but can’t stand it anymore and slam the power button on the remote. Cash stops mid-sentence and whirls his eyes between where I am on his couch and the now-black TV screen.
“You better be listening to that, because ‘the evil people responsible who will be held accountable for their crimes’ is you.” He uses air quotes around what I’m assuming the governor said. “Your recklessness is gonna turn this city on its fucking head. The one fucking time I leave you in charge, and you start a goddamn war.”
Cash clenches and unclenches his fists as he paces with a permanent scowl on this face.
“Christ, would you calm the fuck down. They haven’t even found the body.” I drum my finger on the rim of my whiskey glass before taking a sip. The whiskey slides down my throat warm and full of spice. “And even if they did—which they won’t—but if they did, nothing will trace back to us. I even dug out the bullets myself before dumping the body.”
“What bullets? I thought you said Effie stabbed him.”
“I did.”God, this is getting boring.I’ve repeated what Effie told me—once she stopped hyperventilating—to Cash at least a dozen times. I suck in a bitter breath remembering how she looked. Bruised. Bloodied.Broken.
“So what fucking bullets, Finneas?” Cash tugs on his hair like he’s the one losing his mind.
“Mine.”
She called me, whispering between sobs as if she was scared someone was gonna hear her. I didn’t even consider it might be another trap. I could feel her fear through the phone, like ice down my spine. I recognized her scratchy voice, raw and raspy, instantly as the sound of someone’s voice after they’ve been strangled.
Hearing that twisted my insides like a fucking wrench.
“Had to make sure he was really dead,” I scoff with an ambivalent shrug despite the fact that rigor mortis was setting in when I arrived. He was plenty dead.
The truth is, as soon as I saw the angry red handprints marring her neck, I couldn’t help myself.
One bullet for the brutal bruising on her neck. One bullet for the swollen red mark on her jaw. One bullet for her raw, skinned knees.
And one last bullet that should’ve gone in me, for ever putting her in that situation.
The sky is overcast and a hazy gray, my favorite kind of weather. My brothers and I exit the car. We look like a motley crew of grim reapers in our matching black outfits. I’m wearing a leather jacket, Lochlan only wears a tight black tee, while Cash and Roan are in full suits, but we still look like a reckoning all lined up.
Nonna Rosa’s is a family-style Italian restaurant that doubles as the headquarters for the Luciano family. Apparently cozy and crime go hand in hand.
Roman, our head of security and Cash’s second, has already scouted the perimeter and gives us the go-ahead from his post at the corner of the street. My brother called this meet, but stepping on Luciano’s turf means you can never be too careful. On his all clear, Cash pulls open the door and we follow him in.
I don’t know what to expect from this meeting so entering the empty restaurant leaves me weary and full of trepidation. The wooden chairs are flipped and stacked on top of the tables, the place closed to the public tonight. A man shuffles behind the bar, and while he’s dressed like wait staff, I’m sure he’s a foot soldier and has at least two guns tucked out of sight.
Luciano’s men greet us with metal detectors, and we each step up to be wanded and patted down. There’s a ticking like a clock in my gut, a foreboding that something is about to go down.
“Geez, buy me dinner first,” Lochlan jokes behind me when, I’m assuming, he gets patted a little too thoroughly.
“This way,” one of the men says gruffly, and we follow him through the restaurant to the walk-in freezer.
A shelf in the back is already moved aside, and a hatch, that I’m sure is usually hidden, is open on the floor. Silently, we are led down the steps, and I shoot Cash a questioning glance.What the fuck have you gotten us into?
I have a lot of confidence in my brothers and me, but being led down a trap door with no weapons feels like we’re just begging to be ambushed.
Our steps echo, and I tap my middle finger and thumb together in my usual beat, steadying my breath and keeping my face blank. If we are being led to our deaths, I don’t want to give them even a whiff of unease.Show no weakness.
We descend into a room that reminds me of a 1920s speakeasy. The windowless room is lit with several small chandeliers, casting shadows off the ornate gold and jade wallpaper. Well-polished tables dot the floor, and a curved wooden bar lines the right wall. At a large round table sits Luciano, his Capo and—my lungs feel halved in size—Effie.
It’s been nearly a week since she killed Hudson, but the bruises on her neck are still garish and prominent. Her jaw is less swollen, but still purpled, and she averts her eyes as soon as they meet mine, making me want to raise the fucker from the dead to kill him again.
