Page 18 of Tainted Love

He’s not a killer. Marty’s squeamish and his father isn’t patient enough to wait around while he develops one. Honestly, all he needs is one hard shove in the right direction. That’s really all it takes to cross that line and become a killer. Just one bad day and suddenly that spectrum between black and white is a pleasant shade of gray.

I rap my knuckles against Zappia’s office door and wait to enter until I hear his old voice bellowing out.

“Yeah, come on in!”

The man himself sits at his desk. His shirt is as wrinkled as his aging face and just as blotchy. Must have been a rough night for business or maybe there’s some truth to what Marty said about the Lutrovas being back in town.

Last time, they almost burned the Zappias to the ground.

Probably should have, to be honest. But that ain’t my business.

“Close the door,” he barks. I cast a quick wink toward Marty’s perturbed face before kicking it closed behind me. “You’re late.”

I do a quick scan for anything suspicious. It’s just the same old office with his cluttered desk, a dead plant, and an empty closet in the corner. The only difference is the brand-new security monitors over his head, so new there’s not even a fingerprint on them.

I lower myself into the chair across from his desk before speaking. That’s unwritten rule number one in the Zappia family: you never speak to Antony Zappia above his eye line.

“I apologize, sir. I was detained.”

“What’s this I overhear about the dearly departed Mr. Vaughn being not as departed as I want?”

My eyes bounce to the security monitors behind his desk giving him a clear view of the entrance in splendid high-definition. The sound is low but individual voices stand out against the gentle hum of games. He must have seen everything — my tattoo included.

I keep a weak smile on my lips, making sure not to go too overboard while staring into his cold, dead eyes. “Mr. Vaughn came into some extra cash, sir. More than enough to pay off his debt.”

“So, you let him go?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did he pay interest?”

“Yes, he did.”

“How much?”

“Forty-five percent.”

His brow bounces. “That’s good interest.”

“That’s what I said. I apologize if I overstepped and accepted his offer, sir. It seemed reasonable.”

Zappia scratches his white beard. I pretend not to notice as little bits of old food come tumbling out of it. “You could have told me earlier. I have to cancel the flowers I sent to his family.”

“I will do that myself, sir,” I offer.

“Did you…” He pauses to chew on his old, chapped lips. “I dunno. Did you, at least, cut his face or something?”

“I fucked his daughter. Does that count?”

Zappia pauses for several long moments before his lips curl into what I assume is his version of a smile. “I like your style, Hart. That’s good.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He brushes me away. “Get out of here. Leave the money.” I lay the briefcase on his desk and he immediately opens it. “Ahh, I love that smell…”

“Have a nice night, sir.”

“You, too, Hart. Oh, wait. I got another job for you.”

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