Page 9 of Wild Card
“She needs to shut her bitch mouth. She let people know about the car, Gio! I have to repair that before some nosy fucking cop sees it.”
“So fucking fix it. And don’t you dare call any woman a bitch in this house.” It’s not something I condone out of the house either, but this is my Nonna’s house and too many unspeakable things have already happened in here. This morning alone.
Lorenzo glares at me, but takes a step to the side, leaning toward Catriona and sticking his hand out. “Give me your earrings. I told you I was going to add the car repairs to your tab. Should also take care of any other expenses that come along. I’m sure Daddy will get you some new ones.”
Good God. Is he serious?
Catriona raises shaking fingers to her earlobes, pulls the back off and hurls the earring at him. “Buy yourself some mouthwash while you’re at it. It smells like you’ve been gargling with week-old roadkill.”
The insult is there, but the defiant tone isn’t. She’s holding on hard to keep from crying. There’s no way in hell I’m letting this happen. I pick up the earring.
“You heard the princess,” he sneers. “Hand it over. I got some shopping to do.”
“No. Lorenzo, go fix the car.” I give Catriona her earring back and don’t miss the look of pure hatred she gives me. Maybe it’s strange, but I prefer it to the defeat I saw when she nearly broke down during the recording.
“Gio, come on. Those things are probably worth two grand!”
“You’re not taking her jewelry.” I yell. I can’t believe it’s something I even have to say. “Now get the fuck out and go fix the car!”
He curses at me but storms out of the attic, slamming the door shut, leaving the two of us alone.
“There’s a tub in the bathroom. I’ll bring some towels.”
Though I try to sound gentle, the words come out cold. I don’t expect her to respond, and she doesn’t, staring at me angrily through tear-filled eyes. As I leave the room, locking the door behind me, the burner phone lights up.
I’m going to kill you. Touch my sister again and you’ll see how drawn out a death can be. How slow. How painful.
He left his name with the message—Callan. I appreciate the lack of fear when it comes to protecting his sister. I hope her father does the smart thing and gets the money in order. I should take her family’s threats more seriously—I know they’re no joke to deal with either. But it’s hard to see past the more immediate threat of Freddie. Freddie, who has numerous paths for accepting and laundering money in untraceable ways. Something Lorenzo would be far too stupid to do. It’s a perverse relief to have Freddie’s expertise in handling the logistics of a payoff.
If that payoff happens.
I delete the message and slip the phone into my pocket. Don’t need to give Lorenzo any fodder if he asks to see it. Callan sounds like a man who can handle his business, but I’m sure my uncle would try to take out his frustrations on Catriona. I’m not surprised he handed the phones to me—wants me to share in his crime so I don’t get cold feet and go to the cops.
What the fuck am I going to do? This stunning woman is the key to solving some big problems, and I need to treat her as such. But my cock has other ideas—I love her sass.
But that sass is going to get her in more trouble with Lorenzo.
His lack of control is embarrassing. Hitting a woman at all is atrocious. Beneath any man. My grandfather shot one of his soldiers for slapping his pregnant wife back when we were in Boston. He’d be ashamed of Lorenzo. I’m ashamed of him.
I need to pick up some bandages and ice packs for Catriona’s injuries.
I stop by Nonna’s to check on her, otherwise she’d worry something was wrong. I ask her about the neighborhood gossip to see if anyone saw anything last night, but it seems like Lorenzo’s endeavors went mostly undetected.
Out in the driveway, Lorenzo has popped off the broken plastic cover of the brake light.
“Stupid woman,” he growls. “This was supposed to be easy!”
“You need to rein in your temper.” I cross my arms over my chest. Better to keep my hands where they can’t easily grab Lorenzo’s neck. “She’s half your size. What the fuck is wrong with you? I can’t believe you came up with this fucking ludicrous scheme in the first place, but you tortured that girl. Since when do you do shit like that?”
My uncle isn’t a good man. Burning down my property for money I’d expect from him—as he sees it, we’re family, so what’s mine is his and what’s his is mine anyway when it comes to material goods. But I’ve never seen him lose his shit on a woman like this before.
“Since when do you give a fuck about James Carney’s kid?” He clears the broken plastic from around the lightbulb. “After what he did to your parents?”
A headache begins to throb at the base of my skull.
“You don’t need to remind me of his fucking crimes, Renzo. I know. But it’ll be hard to get any money for that girl if you beat her to death because you can’t handle a little attitude. Hurting her is just going to piss off her family more. Let her be.”
“Who the fuck cares? Her family’s shit anyway.”
