19. Vince
Vince
“He fucking ran, Nikolai; what did you want me to do?” I yelled, coming to a stop at the traffic lights.
“To not use a shotgun Vince, repeatedly. Pretty simple.”
Gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Here is a better idea, brother. Next time you tie someone to a chair, check the fucking knot. Instead of expecting me to fix your fucking mistakes.”
“Do you know the cleanup we have now? Just because you’re in a mood.”
Pulling my cigarette packet out of my pocket.
“A mood you caused. Ten flights of stairs, across eight industrial blocks. That’s how far I chased that weedy looking lizard on crack. I didn’t even see your ass get off the top floor.”
Empty. Why would I carry around an empty cigarette packet? This bloody family. I ended the call.
Immediately I was fighting the urge to check my phone, to see if Madeline had messaged me.
Over a week of silence. At first, I didn’t want to entrap her into a marriage, and now all I could think about was what if she said no.
The thought of her picking my cousin twisted my stomach.
How the fuck could I be out of cigarettes? A call started to go through the car. Answering it, I leaned across, checking the compartment.
“What the fuck do you want?”
Empty. Great. Slamming the compartment shut.
“I said, what the fuck do you want?”
I overtook a car at the traffic lights, that didn’t understand green meant to go. Swerving across the road, I turned into a petrol station. Ending the call and getting out.
Carrying an empty cigarette packet around. That’s how much sanity I have left. At this rate, Nikolai is driving me to have a heart attack before I can cause him another one. Paying for the cigarettes.
I was ignoring the dirty glares from an old lady as I lit up next to the petrol bowser.
One inhale before my phone was ringing again. Which one is it now? Rome.
“What?”
“The late-night delivery just came in, we’re short half.”
Closing my eyes. It was going to be one of those nights.
Reaching for my phone, I scrolled back through the numbers to call Luca. After nearly drowning two men in olive oil for him. Pausing when I saw Madeline’s name. I hadn’t spoken to her tonight. I’d remember, because it was the night from hell.
Incoming call, looking at the time.
A rush of white panic went through me. No. My luck can’t be that bad.
I had yelled at her twice and then ended the call.
My chest tightened. Surely, she would have known. I didn’t realize it was her.
Fuck .
What if I had upset her?
I checked the time: twenty past five in the morning. Fuck it. I called her, putting the phone to my ear. Only it went straight to voicemail.
Unbuttoning my wet shirt before peeling it off. At least the T-shirt was dry. I tossed it to the side, driving to her house. Give it a few hours or so, and I could knock on the door and apologize to her.
I had only waited an hour; every worse possible scenario had gone through my head.
When my luck changed. Three black sedans pulled into her driveway. Knowing damn well that the middle car only drove Madeline around.
I sat on the edge of her bed. After letting myself into her room.
Right now. I felt twenty-nine going on sixty. Meanwhile, miss little twenty-three had already done an exercise class and was back showering.
Dropping my head to my hands. What if she didn’t believe me? What if she said no. Why did the thought of her saying no hurt me?
“Long night?”
Moving my hands.
Why did I need her so badly, but she didn’t need me? Seeing her with Noah ripped me apart. I couldn’t even explain it. Now, it could all happen again, but worse, with my cousin.
She stood in front of me, frowning.
“Have you slept at all?” She touched my cheek.
Holding her hips, I pulled her to me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t?—”
“Stop, I know.” She cut me off, still looking at me with annoyance. “When will you start taking care of yourself?” Pouting, she pushed me back, holding the towel up, before climbing over me. “I’m serious Vince. I hate this new habit. It has to stop.”
I held her face, gently tracing my thumb under the faded bruise. The satisfaction of knowing Noah Voss will have no hands after he recovered from his throat surgery.
And all the ways I still had to make him suffer. I realized death would be an easy option. I’d rather have him live with consequences.
“Wait here,” she climbed off.
“Where are you going?”
“Getting dressed, and coming home with you. I’m going to make sure you sleep.”
If last night was what I had to experience to get her back home, I’d do it again.