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My hand on the steering wheel is clenched hard enough to hurt. "And she was in the trunk because?"
"They were going to…sell her."
Bastards. I breathe out, rolling my shoulders. My peaceful reign is on its way, as my father said. In the meantime, heads are about to fucking roll.
"Did Danny bury Mad Blood's brother yet?"
"Dunno."
"Find out. If he hasn't, buy a bow. One big enough to fit a casket. I'll write the gift card myself."
Chapter 5
Sybil
Brainstorming went differently than planned. I realize that as I wake with a start to the sound of men's voices outside of the apartment. I sit up quickly, glancing out the small window of the bedroom.
It's dark out. I didn't mean to fall asleep without coming up with a plan. To make things worse, I hear Nico's voice, too, muffled until the apartment's front door opens.
"…just as I said. And tell Ace to take a break. He can check in tomorrow. Things are covered until the morning."
I tense, prepared for the gorgeous mobster to stroll into the room and tell me my time is up. But the doorknob never budges. I can hear him in the kitchen, on the phone, and talking more quietly. I hear the sound of the fridge closing.
Well, if he's not coming in here, I'm sure as hell not going out there. He's clearly busy clearing up some violent business I have no intention of learning more about. So, after several long stretches of agonizing over what to do, I opt to freshen up in the bathroom. A girl can only plot her escape so well when she's streaked in blood, leaves, and tire grease.
After gently cleaning my aching wrists and cleaning up any remaining grime, I finger-comb my hair and take a deep breath, studying my reflection. I haven't had a haircut in months, and now it's the length Angela used to wear it at. Of course, mine has curls falling out, and getting her to ever style hers was like pulling teeth.
Still, sometimes it's painful to look in the mirror and see my sister. Sometimes I have dreams that my reflection talks to me, saying what she would say—which is usually that I need to let loose.
She was a big fan of living life to the fullest. Probably a good thing since she didn't get much of it.
It abruptly sinks in that I almost died tonight. And if I had, I can't say the same thing about myself. Ididn'tlive life to the fullest. When faced with options, I usually choose the safest one. The one that will ensure I stay the good sister, the responsible one, even long after my sister's there to contrast with me.
I've never lived my life the way I really want. It's pretty crappy timing to realize this while being held hostage by the mafia, unsure of my fate, but oh well. There it is.
Cleaning up helped. Now, with clear thoughts, I decide the first order of business is confronting Nico. If he's made up his mind to kill me, I doubt I could escape it anyway. Of course, I'll still fight, but I'm sure it won't be a pretty way to go.
On the other hand, if he hasn't made up his mind…I could try convincing him. I don't have enough money for a decent bribe, but maybe he'll accept monthly payments like the Gattos.
Or maybe he'll want what he hinted at earlier…
No. God, no.Focus, Sybil.We hate each other. There's no way he would want that, and I'd kick his teeth in if he tried. Probably.
Finally ready to face my fate, I exit the bedroom, shoulders back and war on the mind. Then I blink and halt, wondering if I'm hallucinating.
The table is set with modest dishes and a large porcelain baking sheet of…something Italian. I'm not sure what it is, but I can smell the tomato sauce and cheese. Nico is standing on the balcony, half in and half out of the apartment. He's now dressed in a sharp suit that annoyingly draws my eyes to his body again and again. He's not on the phone, just looking out over the street.
When he hears the door close, he turns. The moment his eyes skim over me, it feels far too hot in here again, despite the crisp autumn air from the open windows. I try to summon my gusto again, but he just gestures at the table.
"Gnocchi alla Sorrentina."
"I've never heard of…whatever that is."
"You'll enjoy it."
I fold my arms. "Is that a prediction or a command?"
"Take your pick. Sit before the food gets cold."
