Page 102 of Tainted Love

Dante stands firm. “I wouldn’t exactly call you an impartial dealer.”

Zappia shrugs. “He’s my son.”

“You should say your goodbyes now.”

“Think, Hart. You’re surrounded—”

I jump as Lilah appears behind Zappia, almost out of thin air.

“Check again, old man,” she says, planting the barrel of her gun against his head with a blood-soaked hand.

I look around the casino and my jaw drops.

Six bodies lie on the floor, partially hidden from view behind the other tables. Silent pools of blood seep from bright, red smiles on their necks, staining the carpeted floor beneath them.

They never saw her coming.

I look up and Elijah grins.

Zappia’s eyes fall, growing smaller in his head with each passing second. “I guess this is it, then…” His head slowly rises to look at Dante.

“Only for him,” he replies.

Zappia shakes with rage. “You think I’m going to sit here and watch you kill my son—” Lilah pokes the back of his head with her gun and he winces.

Dante guides me out of the chair. “Not me,” he says. He takes his gun by the barrel and holds the grip out to me. “She is.”

I stare at the gun in his hand and a plague of fear washes over me. Suddenly, my fingers turn numb and my thoughts crumble to bits.

“If this is what you want, Lucy, then it’s yours,” Dante says, pushing the gun closer to me.

I study his stormy eyes, so full of love and longing. Love for me. Longing for a life together that leaves this kind of chaos behind us.

A life without Marty Zappia.

I wrap my fingers around the grip. I feel the full weight of it in my palm. Not just the tiny pieces inside that I can strip apart and put back together with my eyes closed but the full weight of every bullet. One little piece of metal and this is all over. One pull of the trigger and Marty Zappia disappears for good.

Just like my father.

I could shoot Marty now but no good would come of it. It won’t give me what I really want, which is just one more day with my father. One final chance to tell him how much I loved him. It won’t honor his memory like he deserves. He raised me to be strong but not like this. Not behind the barrel of a gun.

Dante slides his hand over mine and takes the gun as it slips from my fingers. “Come on,” he whispers, his lips grazing my forehead. “Let’s go home.”

A tear falls down my cheek. He brushes it away with his thumb. I nod, tingling with warmth from his gentle, loving eyes. A world without chaos.

A life with Dante Hart.

He takes my hand and leads me away from the table.

“Hart!”

We spin around as Marty lunges out of his chair, kicking it to the floor behind him. He reaches back, fury bleeding from his eyes, and pulls out the gun stashed in his belt.

Dante draws and fires before Marty can even stand.

The bullet hits him between the eyes. Marty falls to the floor in a silent, deafening clump.

Zappia exhales, the breath shaking his entire body for several long moments. “Get out of my fucking city,” he murmurs. His eyes roll upward to look at us as grief overwhelms him.

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