Page 82 of The Wages of Sin

“Don’t try to blame this on me,” Hollis protested. “If we’d gone with my plan and shot her in the head while she was still asleep, the bitch would be dead by now.”

“Even for a fed, you’re stupid.” Sal’s mouth flattened into a hard line as his annoyance with my ex-brother-in-law grew. “Dorian doesn’t use guns. Everyone knows that. If you shoot her, no cop or jury in this city will believe he was the one that pulled the trigger.”

“Juries love me. They’ll believe anything I say,” Hollis argued, hobbling across the room until he was inches away from Sal. “Besides, we need to be quick. We don’t want to be here when Dorian finally gets home.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sal said with a confident wave of his hand. “He won’t be back any time soon.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I planted a bug when I was here yesterday and have been recording everything,” Sal said. “Dorian left to interrogate Russo a half hour ago. Once he discovers the idiot’s dead, he’ll be wrapped up in family business all day. He won’t be home to find her body until this evening.”

Despite Sal’s assurances, Hollis still looked antsy. His natural fear of Dorian proved he wasn’t as stupid as Sal thought. “I still think we should hurry,” he said.

“Then get to fucking work, asshole.”

“Why the hell are you complaining?” Hollis griped. “I’m the only one doing anything. You’re just fucking standing there.”

“You don’t think I’ve done anything?” Sal’s eyes went wide with anger. “I’m the one who called you. I handed over the fugitive you’ve been trying to track down for over a year on a silver platter. I even paid off the locksmith to get us access to the fucking apartment. And you have the balls to say I haven’t done anything?”

Tempers and voices were rising. Sal fumed as Hollis further invaded his space, getting right in his face as the pair kept right on trading grievances and insults.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t have been happier with the turn of events. The men had become so absorbed by their own argument that they’d all but forgotten about me, and I was able to scoot the rest of the way into the kitchen unnoticed.

Once there, I pulled myself up and went straight to the knife block, drawing out the longest chef knife I could find. A sliver of hope returned the instant I gripped the weapon in my hand. It was enough to give me the courage to start back toward the living room.

Sure, the odds were against me. There was no pretending otherwise.

Standing between me and freedom was an armed FBI agent and a major mob boss. Chances were good one of them would take me down before I ever reached the door.

But still, I had to try.

If I had to die, then those bastards were coming down with me.

The men were still at each other’s throats when I stumbled out of the kitchen with the long blade gripped tight in my one good hand. Sal’s back was to me, but Hollis immediately went silent the second he caught sight of me.

At first, I thought I must have looked pretty intimidating, given how wide his gaze went. But a second later, he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, letting out an exasperated breath.

“Great,” he grumbled, throwing his hands up. “Now she’s got a fucking knife.”

“What?” Sal spun around, his expression instantly turning cold and murderous as his eyes zeroed in on the blade. “Where’d you get that, you sneaky little bitch? Put it down before somebody gets hurt.”

“That’s the idea, asshole,” I said, shaking my head. “Let me walk out that door, or I’ll gut you like a fucking fish.”

Sal laughed, taking a step toward me. “Knife or no knife, if you think we’re just going to let you leave, then you’re even more of an idiot than your brother-in-law.”

“Stop right there,” I warned him, jabbing the tip of the blade out a couple more inches. “Believe me, I will kill you.”

“That’s the problem…I don’t believe you,” Sal said with a shrug. “See, after I heard Dorian say your name the other day, I looked into your past. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the frightened little mouse he’s been hiding was wanted for murder herself. And not just any murder but the cold-blooded killing of her own sister.”

“I didn’t do it.” The denial fell from my lips without thought.

And Sal shocked me by nodding.

“I know,” he said. “Anyone who’s spent two seconds with you can tell you’ve never hurt anyone. Especially those of us who have actually killed before. It takes a special kind of resolve to put a bullet in someone’s head or a knife in their chest. I’m guessing Hollis learned that the day he killed your sister. I certainly found out the night I killed my brother.”

“You killed Giuseppe?” My mouth fell open at the bold admission.

“Of course,” he said simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world to murder your own family so you could inherit their wealth and power.

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