Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Rush
Vigo doesn’t even notice me, but his nephews do.
Angel crosses his arms, stepping in front of his uncle. He doesn’t say a word, and I appreciate that.
He knows what’s happening and he doesn’t pretend.
I stop, several feet away, on the edge of the circle of light. I want to disappear again if necessary. Vigo finally notices me and surges forward, but Rock grabs his arm, holding him back.
“There are cameras,” Rock says, sounding almost bored.
Killian makes a single rumble, low and soft, but a quick glance tells me if there were cameras, he’s taken care of them already. “I would expect nothing less.”
The words land just right, both men pulling up a little straighter. Angel looks back at Rock, some silent communication passing between them. Then Angel swings his gaze to me, taking another step forward. “It’s an inconvenient time for…this.”
“Your convenience is not much of a factor for me,” I answer with a shrug.
He grimaces. “Too true.”
I know Angel’s reputation. He is the brains behind the Sinclair brothers, but he’s also known for his ruthlessness.
Honestly, this is far more of a negotiation than I anticipated. I don’t know the angle they’re hoping to work and I’m not asking. I hold all the cards here.
I’ve got the kind of legitimate company that could bury the Sinclair brothers.
“Kill him,” Vigo slurs. “Weak piece of shit deserves to die the way he fights.”
“He let you win,” Angel tells his uncle, his voice dripping with disdain.
“He didn’t let me win,” Vigo stumbles again, away from Rock, and this time, Rock lets him go. “I kicked his ass because he’s weak and pathetic. Hiding in his big building. Fucking my wife.”
My teeth gnash together. “You mean my wife.”
Angel’s chin pulls back, his nostrils flaring and his lip curling into a sneer. “Tale as old as time.”
“Giulia’s a hot enough piece of ass for it,” Rock answers. It’s like we’re discussing Sunday dinner, not killing their uncle.
“Careful,” I growl out.
“No one needs to be careful of you,” Vigo stumbles toward me, tripping on his own feet as his arm swings wildly in the air. “You’re the young, weak Smith, that his brothers let play Monopoly.”
Gotta be honest, it’s a good insult, and a week ago, it would have landed with deadly accuracy.
But not this time. He stumbles within my reach and I whip out, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him forward.
That’s when the blast of a gun fills the night. I duck, my arm still around Vigo’s neck, and he goes down with me, but he doesn’t recover.
He hits the ground like a sack of potatoes, unmoving where he lands.
My head whips up, Angel’s arm extended, a pistol in his grip. “What the fuck?” I yell.
“You’re welcome,” he answers, dropping his arm. “Though, as I mentioned, the timing is inconvenient. Perhaps you’d consider some recompense.”
“For a job I was about to do myself?”
“One might consider this a gift for a potential future partnership.” He looks into the shadows. “Killian, perhaps you’d like to return my uncle’s gloves.”
I look back at my brother who steps into the light, grimacing. “Saw me, did you?”
“No. Rock saw you. He has your same gift. A number of them, in fact. He surmises that you intended to make Vigo’s death look like a suicide. You want our uncle dead, that’s one thing. Pain in the ass, but we can live with it. But suicide? That we can’t abide. You understand, of course.”
Killian pulls off the black leather gloves, revealing surgical gloves underneath. I watch my brother as he checks Vigo’s pulse and then grabs one of his hands, curling the fingers to stuff the hand in the glove.
He does the same to the other.
Then he takes a pistol from Vigo’s pocket, placing it in the man’s hand.
He twists the man’s arm back, pointing the hand with the gun toward the building. “Anyone left inside?”
“It’s clear,” Angel says.
“In that case, duck.” And then Killian fires the weapon, his finger around the dead man’s trigger finger.
A bullet hits the brick wall, sending a smattering of brick raining down on the ground.
But Killian isn’t done. “I’ll take your weapon, Angel. Go ahead and put footprints in the dust of the brick and then call the police. You heard gunshots. Came out. Found your uncle dead.”
Angel gives a single nod. “We are trusting each other, aren’t we?”
We are.
Not that I’m making any plans with these men. “Am I going to have any problems with the Sinclairs and my wife?”
“None.” Angel tips his chin. “Giulia is free of any obligation to us. And I must say, I’m impressed how well she’s done for herself. Didn’t know she had it in her.”
I don’t know how these men could stand by and watch a woman like Gigi be abused like that. “Her name is Gigi, and she found the strength to leave when that piece of shit whipped a small child.” I point down at the dead man at our feet.
Angel grimaces, either because there is actually a heart in his massive chest or because he knows it’s a bad start to our relationship that I consider him a heartless piece of shit. “Vigo was never stepparent material. He was a shit uncle too.”
I let out a long breath. Because maybe Angel pulled the trigger for reasons other than entering my good graces. “Are we done?” I ask Killian.
“We’re seriously not going to just dispose of him?” Gris asks. “Isn’t a body problematic?”
Angel and Rock wait for Killian’s answer.
My brother grunts softly, “Gigi will sleep better knowing he’s dead. And…” He looks at Rock and Angel. “New York will sort itself out a whole lot faster if no one is holding out for his return.”
Angel gives a single nod. “Any chance we might schedule a meeting?”
“Call my assistant,” I answer. “Her name is Gigi. She’ll see if I can fit you in.”
Angel gives me a cold smile. “My fate in her fucking hands. How fitting.”
I thought so.
I look at Killian who nods back. “Good luck with the police,” he says reaching out to take Angel’s gun. “I can promise you that this will never be found.”
Angel nods in return.
We turn, pressing back into the shadows, making our way to the car. Killian drives this time, Gris in the passenger seat, I lay down in the back.
Killian doesn’t turn on the lights. How he drives like that, I have no idea, but I don’t want to watch.
Besides, now that Vigo is taken care of, every muscle in my body fucking aches like I might never move again.
He parks the car and I start up the stairwell to my apartment, my brothers following behind. Twenty-six flights are a small form of fucking torture.
I leave them at my place—they can’t access their apartments tonight without tripping an alarm—and I make my way to Gigi’s apartment.
I slip in, locking the door behind me and then move into the bedroom, shucking off my clothes. My sweatshirt has some blood…Vigo’s.
Tomorrow, I’ll get rid of it. Now, I carefully fold it, disguising the stain. “Where were you?”
I look up to see Gigi up on one elbow, looking sleep tousled and so fucking good, that I ache to crawl in next to her. “I have news.”
“What news?” she asks, fully sitting up. Killian was right. This is better.
“Vigo is dead.”
She lets out a cry, coming to her knees. “When? How?”
“Tonight. Murder. I don’t have most of the details. One of the Sinclair brothers reached out to Killian.”
She scurries from the bed, throwing herself into my arms.
It hurts like hell, but I still catch her, pressing my cheek to the top of her head. Her face buries in my shoulder and she starts to cry.
“Why are you crying, sweetheart?”
“I’m just so…relieved,” she gasps in a breath. “I can’t believe I never have to see him again. Never have to worry…”
“Gigi, I told you. It wouldn’t have mattered, I was never letting that man anywhere near you or Emma. You’re both mine to protect.”
“Thank you,” she gasps. Does she suspect the truth? Likely.
But this is one more thing I’m going to keep her safe from. I hope if someday she learns the truth, she’ll understand why I wasn’t totally honest. I just love her too damned much.