Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“I bet you do.” He’s smiling like this is amusing to him. “You found some very interesting materials at Jimmy the bookie’s house. Did he give them over willingly? Doesn’t matter, he’s a dead man by now anyway.”
“No,” I manage to say, my throat choked with rage. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would and I did. Benedict went back to finish the stupid bastard off. I told him if he ever told anyone about the money, I’d kill him. And now I’m killing him.” Malcolm shrugs like it’s no big deal.
Jim, poor Jim, with a family and children. That poor bastard walked away and wanted to be left alone, but he gave me the information because he thought I was with Gavino.
And now he’s dead.
“You’re fucking sick,” I whisper, hating Malcolm so much. Waves of revulsion roll through me. I can’t believe this man is my father. “You’re disgusting.”
“Yes, yes, I’ve heard it all.” He sighs and rolls his eyes. “You know, I thought it was amusing to see you with Gavino at first. I figured you two were plotting something, and it was fun to watch you squirm, but now I wish I’d just killed you when I had the chance. You’ve been nothing but a nuisance and you stole my damn hard drives.”
I shudder and look away. So that’s what tipped them off. The missing hard drives must’ve made them suspicious, and that led Malcolm to send Benedict to check out Jim’s place. It all fits into place, and I curse myself for being so stupid. If we’d gone to Jim’s first instead of that stupid, crazy plan at Malcolm’s party, things could be so different.
“Gavino has everything, you know. He’s going to ruin you.”
Malcolm shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
“He hates you as much as I do.”
“Maybe, but he’s not stupid. Besides, I’ve been speaking with Casso, his older brother, and we’ve reached an agreement. We’re signing the paperwork soon.”
“No,” I croak, glaring. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get away with everything.”
“But that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve been playing this game for a long time, Jeanie. For much longer than you’ve been alive. I’m still here, and I’m still on top, because I always walk away a winner. Unlike your mother, who was a rotten little leech and a lifelong loser. You know why I refused to pay your child support? I wanted your stupid, worthless trash-heap mother to do something decent for once in her life and step up on her own. Instead, she got hooked on painkillers and overdosed like the pathetic piece of garbage she’s always been.”
I jump up, screaming again, but he kicks me in the ribs so hard I collapse, gasping for air. He chuckles and walks away, pacing back and forth as I gather myself, seething with hate, my chest on fire.
“You’re going to get yourself killed doing that, but maybe it’s for the best. Benedict is chomping at the bit to make you suffer, and I did promise him a taste before you die. And die you will, because you’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass for as long as you’ve been on this planet.”
“Fuck you.” I want to spit at him, but I can’t work up enough air in my lungs. He sneers at me and laughs.
“Pathetic, just like your mother. I don’t know what Gavino saw in you, but, ah, well. The fun is over, daughter, and I hope you have a lovely time with Benedict. We’re going out to the club shortly, and when we return, I’m giving you to him as a little bonus for all his hard work lately.”
“I hope Gavino kills you. I hope he does it slow.”
He smirks as he goes to the door and lets himself out. He looks back at me, shaking his head.
“That’s what you don’t get, daughter. Men like me and Gavino, we don’t give a fuck about little worthless tadpoles like you. Enjoy your last few hours alive.”
He leaves and closes the door, the lock clicking shut.
Chapter 31
Gavino
“She’s not here.” Romano frowns at me as we stand in Jeanie’s living room. Most of her clothes are missing and her toiletries are all gone, which means she was here at some point, packed up, and left again. I know my guys left most of her stuff back here when she moved in with me and we definitely didn’t need to bring her damn toothbrush.
“She must’ve gone to that bookie’s place,” I say, pacing, mind racing. I try calling her phone, but it goes to voicemail again. “He said she showed up, grabbed the files, and left. But where the hell would she have gone? Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”
“What do you want to do? She might be holed up somewhere waiting to use that stuff the bookie gave her.”