24. Prime
PRIME
Ipull the trigger. My makeshift gun bucks and Frankie’s head explodes. Brains and blood splatter the wall behind him, and fucking hell, it makes too much noise. I rush forward but I’m not fast enough to cradle the thud of his body hitting the floor.
Fuck, this is going wrong. I kick his phone sideways. Fortunately, his blood didn’t get on me, though it’s painting the plaster. I stare at the corpse in horror.
There’s no way to hide this.
They’ll notice he’s gone, and when they do, they’ll know it was me.
I break down my gun. I shove the pieces back into the hidden places in my clothes. The barrel is warm against my side. I have to hide the body, at least until there’s some reasonable alibi. Frankie’s a scumbag. I’m sure plenty of people in this house want him dead.
“Prime? Are you up here? I thought I heard?—“
I whirl as Deanna comes into the room.
She freezes. Her face is trapped in surprise. Her eyes move from the corpse at my feet to me and back again. Frankie’s skull is a mangled mess. Her mouth opens.
I rush her. She staggers back but I catch her and jam a hand over her lips before she can cry out. I hold her tight, pressing against the wall and listening. “Don’t make any noise. Don’t panic. It’s going to be okay.”
Tears well in her eyes. She keeps looking at Frankie’s body. She tries to speak, but my hand’s muffling her words.
“Quietly,” I warn, moving my palm away.
“He’s dead,” she groans. “Prime?—“
I lean my forehead against hers. “There’s no time for what happened. I have to hide him. Are you with me?”
“Prime—“
“Damn it, Deanna. Are you with me or not?”
She whimpers but nods. “I’m with you.”
“Keep watch. If anyone comes up here, tell me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Kill them all if I have to?”
She moans, teeth sinking into her lower lip. “I don’t… I don’t know…”
“It’s going to be okay, but you have to pull it together. Keep watch for me. Can you do that?”
She’s melting down, but I can’t let her fall apart. She nods like it’s painful.
“How did you get up here?”
“Told the guards I needed the bathroom. For feminine reasons. Men always go stupid for period stuff.”
I squeeze her hips. “Good girl. Get moving.”
Deanna slips into the hallway. I don’t have time to worry about her right now. We’ll deal with the fallout later.
I hurry to Frankie’s body. I drag him to the closet and shove him inside.
It’s a tough fit, but I contort his corpse until he’s twisted into the corner.
There’s a big trail of blood. I clean it with the bedspread, wiping down the walls, doing my best to mop it up.
I toss the blankets in with him and step back to survey the results.
What a fucking mess.
The next person to come into this room is going to instantly know something bad happened. But if I’m very, very lucky, that won’t be for a while.
God damn it. What the fuck was I thinking? Did I really imagine rushing down there with a single bullet? The second I saw Fontana, it’s like all rational thought drained from my head, and the desire to kill him was all I could think about.
Bleed him. Burn him. Hurt him for hurting me.
Now I’ll be lucky to get out of here alive.
I join Deanna in the hall. She’s trembling, her face pale, but there’s nobody else around. “You’re okay,” I say, reaching out to touch her, but she flinches away.
“Your hands.”
I look down at my palms. They’re bloody. I have to go back into the room to wipe them off on a clean patch of Frankie’s shirt. When I find Deanna again, she’s quietly gathering herself together, rubbing her face with both hands and taking deep breaths.
I don’t try to touch her this time. I don’t know how I’d handle her twitching away from me again.
“We have to get down there. You take the main steps. I’ll come around the back again. Hold it together and we’ll be okay.”
“You killed him.” There’s a chasm in her expression. “You really did it.”
“I’ve done worse. I’ll kill more. This is who I am. I tried to tell you.”
“No, it’s not, it can’t—“ She shakes her head, chewing her thumbnail, and turns her back to me. “I’ll see you down there.”
I watch her go, worry burning in my chest, but there’s nothing I can do right now.
I emerge into the hallway. The meeting door is still closed. Deanna lurks near the two front guards, pacing restlessly in front of the staircase. Both men eye me suspiciously, but I stride over to my wife and ignore them, taking her into my arms and kissing her deeply.
“We’re fine,” I whisper. “Go along with me.”
“They’re going to find him.”
“Not until later. Keep it together. I have you, I promise.”
She nods, looking terrified. I kiss her a second time, holding it longer, hoping the guards will think she’s nervous about the meeting and not about something else.
Like the body we left upstairs.
“Prime!” I break the kiss off and turn. Carbone’s waiting with a deep frown. “I hope you’re not celebrating yet.”
I squeeze Deanna’s ass. “Every day married to her is worth celebrating.”
Carbone doesn’t find that funny. He approaches, his face as dour as always. “Mr. Fontana sends his regrets, but he has other obligations he must attend to.”
I tighten my grip on my wife. My heart quickens but I keep myself steady. They haven’t found him yet. We’re still okay. “Did he mention anything about our presentation?”
“Walk with me.” Carbone opens the front door and strides onto the porch.
I hold Deanna’s hand and follow. The guards remain where they are, though one angles so he can keep an eye on us. Carbone stands at the railing to the porch looking out toward La Salle’s campus.
“It’s strange, meeting in a house like this. Shouldn’t it be filled with college kids?”
Carbone ignores my comment. “Mr. Fontana enjoyed your pitch very much. It’s not often we find people in this business who come prepared.”
“You can blame my wife for that.”
“I most certainly will.” He turns, hand extended, and Deanna flinches at my side. “Mr. Fontana would like to engage your services.”
I step forward and clutch his hand firmly. “We’d appreciate the opportunity.”
“I hope so, Prime. Mr. Fontana does not work with outside contractors very often. I pray you don’t disappoint me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I grin at him, and every second we linger at this house is another second they might find the corpse of ball-stomping Frankie up in that closet.
Carbone releases me. “Then we’ll be in touch. Mrs. Spadaro, always a pleasure.”
Deanna smiles at him but says nothing. She’s visibly sweating as we make our way to where Ricardo’s waiting with the car. His cigar’s gone and he jolts awake when I yank open the passenger side door.
“Done already?” He glances back at Deanna, grinning. “How’d it go?”
“It went very well.” I snap on my seatbelt. “Mind if I mess with the radio?”
“Ah, I wouldn’t?—“
But I’m already tuning to another station as he pulls away from the house. I catch Deanna’s horrified stare in the rearview mirror and show teeth. Behind us, the corpse cools in a puddle of its own gore.