Sinful Lies (Sinful #2)

Chapter 44

Chapter

Forty-Four

“Revenge, the sweetest morsel to the mouth that ever was cooked in hell.”

― Walter Scott

Angelo

“Long time no see, Greg.”

The bastard spun around, eyes wide like a cornered rat, his hand twitching toward the railing of his jet stairs.

I leaned against the doorframe of the jet, arms crossed, a slow, deliberate smirk playing on my lips.

“What the fuck are you doing in my jet, Lazzio?”

It had taken me ten minutes to track Greg down.

Ten. Fucking. Minutes.

That’s all I had needed to learn that the second he’d slipped out of the masquerade ball, he’d swung by his house to pack a bag before making a break for Thailand.

The bastard thought he was clever, timing his little getaway for when the feds would be breathing down my neck, thinking I’d be too preoccupied to stop him. And here he was, at four a.m., standing on his shiny private jet, smugly assuming I was someone else’s problem now.

Judging by the look on his ugly mug, though, he wasn’t just surprised to see me.

He was scared.

I let the silence hang for a moment, just to watch the panic tighten his shoulders, before I pushed off the doorframe and shrugged lazily.

“You’re not paying your pilot enough, stronzo. Told him I had something very important to discuss with you. Slipped him fifty grand in cash, and—well—who the fuck says no to fifty grand?” I grinned, slow and sharp. “Certainly not your guy.”

Greg froze, panic flashing across his face, before his instincts kicked in. Like the rat he was, he spun on his heel, lunging down the stairs in a desperate sprint.

I stayed where I was, leaning casually against the jet’s door frame, and pulled my gun out in one smooth motion.

“Run, and you’re dead,” I called lazily.

The bastard didn’t stop. Of course he didn’t. Greg was always the kind of idiot who thought he could outrun consequences.

Bang.

The shot cracked through the night, clean and sharp. The bullet hit the ground at his feet, sending up a spray of dust and concrete. He stumbled, nearly eating shit on the bottom step before skidding to a stop.

I took my time descending the stairs, the barrel of my gun aimed directly at him.

“I don’t miss twice, Greg,” I said, my voice calm, almost bored. “You know that.”

He turned slowly, hands already raised, his face a cocktail of fear and disbelief.

“You’re insane,” he breathed.

“No,” I said, stepping closer, each movement deliberate. “I’m fucking pissed .”

I stopped just a few feet away, cocking my head as I looked him over, my gun still trained on his chest.

“Did you really think you could run? That you’d be halfway to Thailand, sipping your shitty cocktails, while I was sitting in a fucking federal holding cell?”

His lips parted, but no sound came out.

The bastard was too terrified to even lie properly.

I clicked my tongue, shaking my head. “You disappoint me, Greg. I thought you’d at least try to grovel before you went full coward.”

Anger flashed behind his eyes. “Fuck you, Lazzio.”

A low laugh rumbled out of me, the kind that made him flinch even though I hadn’t moved an inch.

I leaned closer. “ Fuck me ?” I repeated. “You’re cute, Greg. Truly. It’s almost enough to make me forget how badly I want to put a bullet in your head.”

He was trying to play tough, but his twitching fingers and the way his eyes darted to the stairs gave him away. Fear was an ugly look on anyone, but on Greg? It was practically pathetic.

“You’re lucky I need you alive tonight,” I continued, straightening and adjusting the cuffs of my sleeves. “Come on. My girl’s waiting for us, and I’m not a fan of making her wait.”

I shoved Greg toward the car, his feet fumbling to catch up as he glared over his shoulder at me.

His lip was split from the punch, and I caught the flash of anger in his eyes, but he didn’t dare say another word.

Until he did.

“Your girl?” he sneered, like he thought it was funny. “You mean the bitch who sold you out to the feds? I figured you’d have put a bullet in her by now.”

Would you kill me too, if I betrayed you?

No, amore. I could never kill you.

And I was fucking right—no matter how much the world screamed for it, no matter how much she deserved it, it was the one thing I could never do.

He stiffened as I approached, but I didn’t stop until I was close enough for him to feel the cold press of the gun barrel against his cheek.

“Run that mouth again, Greg,” I said, my voice cold as ice. “See where it gets you.”

I yanked him forward by the collar, slamming him into the side of the car.

The door swung open, and his chauffeur gave me a polite nod.

Guess money really does buy everyone, huh?

I leaned in, close enough that he could feel my breath on his skin, my eyes never leaving his. “Got it?”

He didn’t answer, just nodded, his eyes wide.

I shoved him into the car and slammed the door behind him.

The bucket tipped, and the cold water hit Greg square in the face, a satisfying gasp ripping out of him as he sputtered and coughed. The water pooled on the floor beneath him, soaking into the grime and leaving him shivering.

I leaned back in the chair, arms draped over my knees, watching as he thrashed and groaned. His wide, unfocused eyes darted around, desperate for clarity, until they landed on himself—on the ropes biting into his wrists and ankles, in the bloodied state I’d left him in before he so rudely decided to pass out.

His face went as pale as a corpse.

Good.

When we’d pulled up to the location earlier, his mouth wouldn’t stop. Snide remarks, desperate insults—shit meant to get under my skin. I’d let him talk until the pounding in my head hit its limit, and then I’d dropped him with one punch. Lights out. The silence after had been a goddamn blessing.

But now, after an hour of peace, Greg was finally coming back to life, blinking against the dim light, his breath ragged and uneven.

“You didn’t,” he croaked, his voice a whisper of disbelief.

I barked out a laugh. “Oh, I fucking did.”

He groaned, thrashing against the ropes like that’d do anything. His chair creaked under the effort, the pathetic sound of his struggle grating on my ears.

“Now what, Lazzio, huh?” he spat. “An eye for an eye?”

“Something like that.”

The warehouse door groaned open, its metallic echo rolling through the cavernous space. Cold light spilled in, illuminating Greg, who flinched like a cockroach caught under a lamp. His thrashing against the ropes stilled, but his breaths came quicker, sharp and panicked.

I didn’t move. I just leaned back in my chair, tilting it onto two legs, my eyes fixed on the black SUV gliding inside. Its engine purred like a predator, unhurried as the tires crunched to a stop on the concrete.

The driver’s door opened first, and out stepped Vittori.

“Satan’s pissed,” he said, nodding toward the back seat. “She’s not getting out of that car. Good luck.”

I wiped the smile off my face with the back of my hand.

Of course, she wouldn’t.

I made my way to the car, ignoring Vittori as he leaned against the hood, that smirk on his face like he was enjoying the whole damn thing a little too much.

I ignored him, pulling the back door open and ducking inside.

The scent of leather and something distinctively hers hit me immediately.

I shut the door behind me with a soft click, my gaze finding her instantly. She was still, like stone—eyes locked out the window, face unreadable. I knew better than to think she was just ignoring me. She was probably plotting, calculating her next move, just like always.

For a moment, I just watched her.

Pretty face, full lips, sleek hair—so fucking beautiful. Too beautiful.

The woman I had given my heart to, only to watch her crush it in her hands.

She crossed her arms, irritation flaring.

“How the hell did you even get out of jail?” she shot at me. “Guess blood money really is the ultimate pass to freedom, huh?”

“No proof, amore .”

“No proof? Really? Because those big folders I handed over sure seemed like enough proof that you’re a psychopath, a murderer, a liar, manipulative?—”

I leaned back, a smirk playing at the corner of my mouth. “Fuck, you’ve never looked sexier, Jade.”

Her glare could’ve burned me alive.

“Who would’ve thought, huh? You fucking snitching on me just makes me want you even more.”

She exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes. “Oh, perfect. You’ve lost it too. Listen, your stupid buddy kidnapped me on my way to the airport—unwillingly, I might add—and now I’m stuck in the back of a car in some deserted warehouse. I was supposed to be sipping champagne in first class, flying to Scotland to celebrate my sweet revenge, not here. So do me a favor—Let. Me. Go.”

“I didn’t kill your sister, Jade.”

Her eyes squeezed shut. “You’re lying.”

“Get out of the car. You need to hear the truth.”

She pressed her hands to her ears, shaking her head as if to block me out.

“I don’t believe you, Angelo.”

I grabbed her wrist and lowered her hand.

“You have to trust me, Jade.”

Her eyes met mine, and in that moment, I saw it all—hope, anger, confusion, and something deeper.

She wanted to believe me, but she was too fucking scared to admit it.

“Trust me, amore ,” I breathed out.

Just like I fucking did, before you tore it all apart.

Her eyes searched my face, and after a long pause, she swallowed and gave a slow nod. She unbuckled her seatbelt, the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air as she pushed open the door and stepped out of the car.

I stepped out of the car and made my way toward her.

Her eyes locked onto Greg, and I saw her flinch, her pupils dilating like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“Lazzio, I don’t want to be a witness to the blood on your hands!” she snapped, her voice shaky with a mixture of fear and disgust. She tried to turn back to the car, but I was already in her way, blocking her.

“James Greg is the one who destroyed the Cyrus Project. He’s the one who killed your sister. Not me.”

Her breath hitched in her throat, and for a moment, her eyes went wide, that fragile mask of control slipping for just a second.

But she quickly regained herself, her fists tightening at her sides.

“Lazzio, I swear, if you’re lying, I’ll grate your dick in a grinder and feed it to you.”

I couldn’t help but smirk at the threat, my hand reaching out to grip her chin, tilting her head just enough to catch her lips in a quick, possessive kiss.

Her eyes fluttered shut for a second, a brief moment of surrender before she pulled back, her breath shaky.

“Noted,” I whispered, the taste of betrayal lingering on her lips.

“Not that I’m not enjoying the show,” Vittori’s voice sliced through us. “But you two lovebirds better hurry the fuck up. I’ve got shit to do.”

I snapped my gaze over to him.

He was leaning casually against the car, cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“Greg,” I said, turning slowly. “Let’s talk about the Cyrus Project.”

His gaze seethed with hatred, his body straining against the ropes as if he could break free. “Fuck you, Lazzio.”

Vittori laughed. “Wrong answer, buddy.”

My gun was out in an instant, and I shot him straight in the calf.

An eye for an eye.

The blast echoed, his scream following immediately after.

Jade flinched, her hands pressed to her ears, her face twisting in disgust. She spun away, her body colliding with mine as she buried her face in my chest, desperate to shut it all out.

“It’s alright, amore ,” I murmured low, my hand sliding down her back. “Now, Greg, where were we? Ah, that’s right. The Cyrus Project.”

His face twisted, sweat dripping down his forehead. “W-What about it?”

I smirked. “Don’t try to play the innocent card now, Greg. Tell us how you thought you’d fuck over my old man because he didn’t hand you the project.”

His eyes burned with rage. “Your father’s a piece of shit! Just like you, Lazzio! This project was supposed to be mine! Only fucking mine!”

Vittori sighed, shaking his head as he casually drew his gun, but I stopped him with a hand.

“What did you do, Greg?” I asked.

He spat blood onto the concrete, a twisted grin curling his lips. “Wasn’t gonna let your old man get a fucking cent of my cash, Lazzio. So I rigged the whole damn place with explosives.” He let out a low chuckle, dark and cruel. “Yeah, Jade. Your sweet little sister and her boyfriend? They were just the unlucky ones who happened to be there. Small world, huh? They were the perfect setup—collateral damage, nothing more.”

Jade’s hands dropped to her sides, as she turned slowly.

He grinned darkly, continuing, “You think people were pissed about the Lazzios taking the land? That was the cover-up. The bodies, though? That’s what really got people’s blood boiling. Innocent lives gone, and the Lazzios became the fucking villains.”

Jade’s fingers brushed down my hand, slowly wrapping around the gun.

I didn’t stop her.

“At least that was the plan,” he sneered, shaking his head. “Of course, the Lazzios always get away with everything. They pinned it on Jonathan Cyrus, said he was the one behind the investment. Then they killed the poor bastard years later.” He tilted his head, a cruel smile creeping onto his face. “Took you six fucking years to figure it all out, Jade. A bit late, don’t you think?”

A sob tore from Jade’s throat, her shoulders shaking as she gripped the gun tighter.

I stayed back, watching, letting her take the reins.

This was her moment.

“You killed them,” she spat, her voice low but trembling. “They were innocent. Just—just living their lives. They didn’t deserve this.”

Greg sneered. “Deserve? Nobody ‘deserves’ anything in this game, darling. Wrong place, wrong time. That’s all it was.”

“Wrong place?” Her voice cracked, climbing to a painful pitch. “I was there! I saw them—blown into pieces. Do you have any idea what that’s like? Watching someone you love ripped apart, and there’s nothing—fucking nothing —you can do?”

Her sobs came harder.

I’d seen pain before—hell, I’d caused it—but nothing like her pain. It filled the room, suffocating, bleeding into every corner, and for once, I didn’t have the words.

“Nine years. I’ve carried that for nine fucking years, trying to forget, to move on. And now I find out it was you. ” She raised the gun, her hand steady despite the tears streaking her face.“The only thing you deserve is the same fate.”

Greg flinched, his mask of arrogance cracking as real fear seeped into his eyes. “Wait—wait, hold on! You think this’ll fix anything? You pull that trigger, and you’re no better than me.”

“Maybe I am just like you,” she whispered, as she racked the gun.

I stepped forward, not to stop her but to make sure she knew I was there.

He sneered through the panic, his mouth running to the bitter end. “Look at you two. You should thank me. You wouldn’t even know each other if it weren’t for me. The kidnapped kid and the lonely addict. Tragedy, huh? Almost makes me wanna?—”

The shot rang out before he could finish.

One clean bullet to the head. His body slumped back, dead before he hit the ground.

She stood there, frozen, the gun slipping from her fingers like it weighed a thousand pounds.

Before she could spiral, I grabbed her, spinning her around and pulling her into me, even though every fucking part of me screamed to push her away after what she’d done.

Her grip on my shirt was tight, almost desperate.

I nodded at Vittori, who moved without a word, tossing a cover over Greg’s lifeless corpse.

“Let’s get you home,” I murmured.

She followed without a sound, her eyes fixed somewhere far ahead, avoiding the blood pooling behind us. I opened the car door, and waited as she climbed in.

The drive was quiet, the low growl of the engine filling the silence between us.

Her head rested against the window, eyes shut, but I could see it—the tight set of her jaw, the faint tremor in her hands.

She wasn’t okay. And I sure as hell wasn’t either.

So I did the only thing that might offer us some kind of relief.

I reached over, my hand closing around hers in the space between us, despite the fucking chaos inside me.

Her fingers were cold, unsteady, but she didn’t pull away.

Instead, she let me hold on, her grip tightening just enough to remind me she was still here, still fighting not to fall apart.

I didn’t say anything—there was nothing to say.

The world outside could keep fucking burning; right now, all that mattered was her hand in mine.