Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Not your call,” I say and move to cut him off. “It’s over, Santoro. There are police waiting to arrest you outside. Make this easy on everyone and go quietly.”
“You have a right to remain silent and all that,” Moretti says with a smirk.
Alessandro lets out a pained groan and staggers forward. “I’m sorry, Luciano. I should have done this a long, long time ago.” He removes a small revolver from the waistband of his pants. He holds it out, one hand clutching his cane, and aims at his former second-in-command. “You’re right, baby. I won’t let you spend your last days behind bars. I love you too much to let that happen.”
Luciano looks pale. He doesn’t move. His hands raise slowly in the air. “You really mean it, darling?” he whispers. Tears roll down his cheeks. “You’ll do that for me?”
“Always,” Alessandro whispers. He raises the weapon and aims.
“Dad, no!” Elena screams.
And at the same time, I shout, “Don’t do it, Alessandro!”
He pulls the trigger. The gun cracks once and Santoro staggers back. Alessandro pulls the trigger again, and again, and again, and again, five shots in total, and Santoro collapses to the ground in a bloody heap. The warehouse goes completely silent as everyone stares in shock. Alessandro drops the gun, his shoulders slumping forward, staring down at the corpse.
“Fuck,” I say and look around in horror. This is going wrong, so fucking wrong. Santoro was supposed to get arrested. We were going to use the recording Alessandro got alongside all the evidence Simon provided to put Santoro away for life. Nobody was supposed to die. I put a lot of money in Moretti’s bank account to make sure of it.
But Alessandro went ahead and fucked everything.
Moretti moves first. He shoves his gun away and runs to Santoro’s side. He starts applying first aid, but it’s way too late. All five shots hit the old man in the chest and there’s enough blood pumping from the wounds to tell me everything I need to know.
Alessandro Bianco is still a good shot.
And Luciano Santoro is dead.
I run to Elena. She’s shaking, in total shock, as I pull her into my arms. I hold her tight, trying to steady her, and now everything is going to get so much harder.
“They loved each other,” she whispers through tears. “They were in love, Brody. That’s why Dad always let Santoro go.”
I stare back over my shoulder. Her father’s still standing there, the gun dropped to the ground at his feet, staring at the unmoving body of Santoro with a strange, stricken expression, like he just ripped off his own limb.
Maybe that makes sense. If they really did love each other, and Alessandro knew that Santoro didn’t want to die in prison, maybe that was a mercy.
Doesn’t matter. He just guaranteed that he’d go down instead.
“Listen to me,” I say quickly. “Captain Kennedy’s going to come in here and he’s going to arrest your father for murder. There’s nothing we can do about that. If we’re smart and we play it right, we might be able to get him off on self-defense. Depending on what they hear in those recordings and what Moretti’s willing to say. These guns are allegedly Santoro’s and if anyone asks, that’s what you’ll say. The cops are going to confiscate them. That’s the deal we cut. Just don’t say anything, okay? Don’t say a word. We’ll get the lawyers involved and we’ll figure it out.”
“Why would he do it?” she asks and breaks down into sobs.
Shouts echo down the corridors as the police swarm into the warehouse.
Chapter 47
Elena
Mom leans back in the Adirondack chair and takes a long drink from her glass of wine.
She looks older than she did three weeks ago before Dad killed Santoro. Her hair’s whiter and the wrinkles around her mouth are more pronounced. She’s been hiding in the house with Dad, currently out on bail, the two of them refusing to come out and address the family, at least until now.
“How mad is Simon?” Mom asks. She sounds more tired than upset.
“Pretty mad,” I admit, which is an understatement. He’s fucking livid. I think he’d charge into their house and kill Dad himself if he could. It’s not even the whole gay relationship thing that bothers him—it’s more that Dad’s been lying and covering for his lover all this time and that he cheated on Mom and kept a flame going for Santoro despite everything.
“He’s the only one that hasn’t reached out.” She stares straight ahead. “Even Davide came over, but your father’s not up for talking right now. I think… I think he’s still mourning Luciano.”
I sit stiff and dig my nails into my thigh. “How’s that make you feel?”
“Sad. Exhausted. I’m happy he did it.” I’m surprised when she smiles at me. “Is that strange? It probably seems strange to you, but I’m glad he finally saw the real Luciano and pulled that trigger.”