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Waves of disbelief and confusion roll off Dima. He wants to ask me; he wants me to tell him it’s not true.
But I can’t.
“It’s a lie,” I say simply. “Mila had nothing to do with our father’s death. It was all me.”
“Ah, big brother to the last. How lucky that sweet little flower is.”
“She’s a flower with thorns, Benedict. I wouldn’t get too close if I were you.”
He laughs. “Was it one of the thorns that finished off your father, then?” The gun droops; the bastard is clearly starting to enjoy himself. “Fuck, I would have loved to see it. She must have looked glorious. Was it bloody? Or did she do it clean? Poison, maybe. I could see her loving how it looked to watch the life slowly fade from his eyes.”
“You really do love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”
He flashes me his teeth. “On the contrary, people love hearing my voice. I’ve been known to make women wet without so much as touching them. Your little sister certainly was when I put my fingers up her cunt.”
Dima growls low. I don’t have to be psychic to know he’s mentally cursing me for not letting him bring his gun.
I shake my head and give Dima a subtle signal. Then I lunge toward Benedict, ducking low and shouldering him hard in the gut.
BANG!
The gunshot blasts my hearing and I feel pain sear down the side of my body in one hot stroke. My brain calculates the damage fast. I know I’ve been shot, but it’s not fatal. It’s just my arm, which will freeze up in a few minutes, but not before I get maximum use out of it.
I tackle Benedict to the floor and he lands with a loud grunt, fumbling his gun in the process. I punch him in the face, knee him in the gut, and make a grab for the gun.
Another gunshot pierces the air, but this time, Benedict’s weapon is not the source. I don’t have time to check on Dima. I focus on disarming Benedict, who flings the damned weapon across the floor. It spins violently and disappears underneath one of the patterned sofas.
I smash my fist across Benedict’s face. His eyes wobble, but he focuses back on me almost immediately. “Déjà vu, huh?” I ask him.
He tries to spit up at me, but I dodge and crack his nose open.
“Ilarion, we have incoming,” Dima warns from the door. I glance back over my shoulder. The mute thug is slumped unconscious at his feet, and themudak’sweapon is in Dima’s hand. “The hotel staff are on their way. Police are en route.”
I nod, slap Benedict’s face once more for good measure, and then clamber off him. I gesture for the gun in Dima’s hand and he hands it over. I cock it and point it directly at Benedict’s face. “Where is the old man?”
“Vaffanculo!” he snarls.
I don’t have to speak Italian to understand he isn’t being cooperative.
As much as I want to puncture one hole after the next in his rotten gut until he tells me what I need to know, we don’t have time for that right now. The pain in my arm is getting more pronounced and I can smell the faint metallic scent of blood. Benedict is half-drenched in the stuff. I’ve lost more than I realized.
“I could kill you right now,” I point out to Benedict.
“Yes,” he snarls. “But then my brother would kill the old man. And what would your pretty little fiancée say about that?”
“She would say that I did all that I could—”
“Bullshit!” he screams. “Bullshit! She’d hate you! And my brother would see to it that she died as painfully as that oldstronzoshe called a father!”
“Ilarion, we have to go if we want to avoid a whole thing.” Dima doesn’t want to end my fun, I can tell, but he’s also not ready to risk getting arrested. Too much is at stake to spend time in a cell.
I kick Benedict in the side, making him roll into a painful, groaning ball. “I’d leave you with a parting gift,” I growl, “but it looks like we’re even. An arm for an arm. But just to be sure you’ve learned your lesson…”
I kick him between the legs. He screams like he’s been gelded. Dramatic, even by his standards.
Then Dima holds the door open for me and we run like hell.
We sprint down the corridors, passing shocked guests who dart to the sides to avoid us, then through the kitchens and out the back door into the alley behind.
