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“Oh, honey,” she coos, drawing my focus back to her. “You’re his baby. He just wants this time with you so he can bond with his daughter.” I fight the scoff that wants to break free. If only she knew why her husband was really here, I don’t think she would be looking at me with pity in her eyes.
“Yay for bonding time,” I snark, earning a disapproving look from her.
“Have an open mind, Chanel. He’s trying here.” I know he is but I also know that he is so disappointed in me and honestly, I would take him being angry at me any day over disappointing him. I hate the look in his eyes each time he looks at me. I can see the judgment and that shit kills me inside.
* * *
It’s after midnight and we’re still perched on the rooftop across the road from Micha Vatoli’s apartment. According to Dad’s research, Micha is the one who was helping not only Chance but Halil Kozma with acquiring real estate in Miami. We don’t have a direct line to Halil yet but Micha is a good stepping stone to get us the intel we need to go after his boss. I delivered his card to him yesterday and it gave me great satisfaction to see him snort and toss it. If only he knew what that card meant. Don’t fret, he’ll find out soon enough what happens to those that are marked by theMemento Mori.
“We’re on,” Dad clips out. We have been here for over an hour and the man hasn’t fidgeted or taken his eye off the scope of his gun once. His discipline is unparallel to anything I have ever seen before. I look through the scope of my own rifle and note that he is right. Micha walks into his lavish apartment with his phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. I keep my eye on the door to see if anyone else walks in after him, but no one does. We wait another hour for the dirt bag to shower and prepare for bed. I nearly threw up in my mouth when he settled in bed and began to fondle himself. Dad snapped at me to close my eyes. I couldn’t help the laughter that burst out of me.
“Dad, I have seen–”
“Close your fucking mouth now and do not finish that sentence, Chanel!” he orders. I roll my lips over my teeth to keep from laughing. I’m twenty years old, soon to be twenty-one in a couple months and my dad still thinks I have never seen a cock. Fuck, he would die of a stroke if he knew what I did in the restroom with Kacey while he was waiting in the car.
“You do realize how old I am, right?”
His eyes narrow. “In my mind, you are still the little girl that used to crawl into my bed in the middle of the night because she swore there was a monster hiding under her bed.” I roll my eyes and shake my head.
“I haven’t been that little girl in a long time,” I say quietly. A whirl of emotions crosses through his eyes.
“Don’t I know it,” he mutters as he begins to pack his things up. I follow his lead, then follow him silently down the fire escape. We place our rifles in the trunk of the car before grabbing our handguns and screwing a silencer onto them. Dad hands me a bulletproof vest. I stare at the thing for a second before shaking my head, and continue to load my magazine. “Put it on now.”
“No.”
His eyes shine with indignation. “It wasn’t a request.”
“I don’t care. You may view me as a little girl… Newsflash, old man, I’m not that kid anymore. I have tits and an ass now. Pretty sure I didn’t have those things when I thought there was a monster under my bed.” His face contorts in disgust as a shiver runs down his spine.
“Don’t ever let me hear that shit come out of your mouth again!”
I scoff. “You say worse shit to Mom!’ I defend.
“That’s different, she’s my wife. I’m allowed to say those things to her and she enjoys it.” I screw my face up in disgust.
“That is so freaking gross!”
He smiles wide and wiggles his brows. “How do you think you were made?” I shudder and snag a baseball cap from the trunk, then spin away from him, storming toward Micha’s building with his laughter following after me. I never, and I mean never, want to know about my parentsdoing it. A fresh wave of nausea rolls over me. I push those feelings away and get my head back in the game as we approach his building. We don’t go through the front, we round the back and come in through the service entrance, where we know there are no cameras after a quick hack into their security system.
We act casually as we pass staff members. I play my part perfectly and stumble into one of the young cleaners and snag her keycard without her noticing, then head for the employee elevator. It’s a quiet, tense ride up to Micah’s floor. I pull my hat lower to shield my face from the cameras as Dad covers his face using the hood of his jacket. I insert the card into his door and push it open. The sound of his snoring can be heard all the way out here. My dad quietly shuts the door, then we both draw our guns as we make our way toward the back of the apartment, where we know his bedroom is. I press up against the wall as I peek around the corner to make sure he is actually sleeping. Dad tries to take the lead but I cut in front of him, needing to show him that I can do this.
He says nothing as I reach up and twist my cap around backward, then swiftly climb on the bed and straddle Micah’s lap. He wakes instantly and tries to sit up, but the second I press the end of the silencer against his forehead he freezes. His eyes squint, trying to get a good look at me. Even with the curtains open, the moon doesn’t illuminate my features enough.
“Who the fuck are you?” he snarls. I see my dad slink into the shadows of the room and remain out of sight, allowing me to handle the situation on my own.
“I ask the questions, you answer right and you get to keep breathing.” He snarls and tries to reach for me. Shifting my gun, I shoot through his palm then press the hot barrel back to his forehead and relish in the pained cries that come from him. He thrashes beneath me. Gripping his throat in my other hand, I lean forward and snarl in his hideous face. “Tell me where the fuck Halil is.” The fucker is so predictable, he strikes out with his other hand, earning another shot through that palm. For the next hour, we keep doing the same dance. Dad and I drag his sorry ass out of bed and tie him to a dining room chair in the bathroom, so it will be easier to clean up after we're finished.
“You fucking bitch!” Micha wails as I take out his other kneecap. So far I have put bullets through his hands, elbows, feet and now his kneecaps. Crouching down in front of him, I keep my gun dangling between my legs and shake my head.
“Micha, Micha, Micha.” I taunt, tears continue to flow down his cheeks. “You were warned–”
“I never received no warning!” he shouts.
“Yes, you did.”
“Swear to God, you said nothing to me about no warning.”
“The queen of hearts you received yesterday from the doorman was your warning. You were marked from that moment.” His eyes widen to the point of almost looking painful.
