Page 120 of Vicious Sentiments

“Dillon. Dillon.” He slaps him on the cheek. “Buddy, we have to go now. She’s alive, but she needs a doctor.”

Dillon stares Julian in the eyes, and I swear I see hatred, pure and uncontained hatred. It’s so misplaced. Julian didn’t do this. He’s trying to help. I hold my breath, waiting for the wail, the scream, the spit to fly at Julian, but then Dillon goes slack, his arms loosen around Marney, and Julian catches her.

Dillon’s pupils blot out his blue irises and his bottom lip falls open. He sits, smeared and covered in blood as Julian picks up Marney and rushes past me.

“Go!” Cape shouts at me, and I startle.

“What about you?”

His face hardens. “I have to clean this up.” He motions to the bodies of the men lying lifeless with their gunshot wounds. “Ma, take her. Go.”

And then Margo is dragging me out the front door.

Chapter Sixty

When me and Julian walk in the front door seventeen hours later, passing two cop cars out front, I’m in awe to see that there isn’t a drop of blood. No splatters on the staircase and no bodies slumped at the base. Margo stayed at the hospital even though Marney is in the ICU, and they won’t let anyone in her room.

I’m surprised that Dillon didn’t snap out of it and come to the hospital. I’m anxious to see if he’s okay. But instead, when we round a corner, there is just Cape and a heavy set man in a suit with pure white hair sitting in the dining room. He looks too expensive to be a detective, and I’m guessing an attorney.

“You okay to shower by yourself?” Julian whispers in my ear. His brows are drawn together and while he’s still gorgeous, there are bags under his eyes and he hasn’t unclenched his fist since he handed Marney’s slack body over to a doctor.

I nod absently, eyeing Cape and the fresh clothes he’s wearing. He looks like he does any other day and not like he didn’t spend god knows how long cleaning up a bloodbath and getting rid of bodies. Did he dispose of them the same way he did my dad?

And where is Dillon?

“Um…” The white haired man turns. “Is this Hailey?”

“She’s not a part of this, Alec,” Cape growls.

“With all due respect Mr. Rossi, she’s covered in blood and I wouldn’t be as good as I am if I let her—”

“She’s. Not. Apart. Of. This,” he says again, and Alec’s cheeks deflate.

“If you’re sure.” He gulps.

“He’s sure,” Julian says, and I note the protective nature of his tone.

Julian kisses me on the cheek and then nods for me to go ahead, telling me the man is in fact their attorney and not to worry.

When I make it to my room I quickly realize that I have nothing here. All my clothes and soaps were taken to Julian’s.

I sigh and stand in the middle of the room, not wanting to sit and get dried blood on the bed. I know that I could use Marney’s shower and grab something of hers to wear, but it doesn’t feel right.

Maybe if I knew she was going to be okay, but I don’t. She had to have surgery for a brain bleed, and the doctor said there was swelling in her brain that was only making the situation worse. He said that he couldn’t saydefinitivelyif she was going to wake up. Margo excused herself to restroom after that. When I followed to check on her, I heard her throwing up. I didn’t blame her. I had and still do feel like I’m going to dry heave.

I know that there is no way Julian would let me walk back to his place alone and I don’t want to interrupt him. So, I make my way to Margo’s room, hoping that she’ll be okay with me using her shower because I can’t stand another second of having Tortellis blood on me. Even though Julian said that it probably wasn’t actually them but two of their men. I know that some of it is Marney’s blood though and I can’t tamp down the anger that I feel knowing her blood is mixed with theirs.

I want to wonder what they were doing with her anyway. Margo said they were taking her but I know better than to let my mind wander in such dark places, because they didn’t get her. The peoplewho traffic women didnotget her. I remind myself this as I turn on Margo’s shower and strip off my stiff clothes.

I turn the water as hot as it can go, hoping it can burn more than my own boiling blood. It doesn’t. I’m actually convinced that the water is evaporating on my skin from how angry I am. It’s the injustice of it. She didn’t stand a chance against those men. I don’t care how many karate classes or self defense tips she’s gotten from Cape. They were huge, probably in their thirties, and she’s a thirteen-year-old girl who can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.

And they were just going to take her, force her into whatever they wanted, hurt her and ruin her the same way I’ve been ruined but worse. And now? Now she may never wake up. She won’t ever get to enjoy the life that was taken from her.

When I’m sure I don’t have a single drop of blood left on my body, I wrap myself in a towel and tiptoe to Margo’s closet. I hate to take anything without asking but unless I want to walk back to Julian’s in a towel, I don’t have a choice.

Her closet is in the back of the bathroom with two wide french doors. I’ve been in there once before, and in the middle is one of those beautiful islands with claw feet and drawers full of jewelry and scarves and literally everything I’ve never seen Margo wear.

I pull open the door and am met with total darkness. I sigh and feel around for the light, clutching my towel with one hand. When I finally flick on the recessed lighting, I jump with a scream and try to back out. My towel gets caught on the door handle and I stumble, falling back on my ass.

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