Page 20 of Savage Rule

“2007. He came to Miami to make a deal behind his boss’s back. I sent a message to Giuseppe Tadesco informing him of that traitor. But Stephen intercepted it and retaliated by killing my wife.”

Frowning, I rummage through the files in my mind, every piece of information I’ve been given on the events that lead to Stephen’s death. This isn’t part of it.

“You have proof?”

“It’s there, but you’ll have to search for it on your own.” He watches me. “Not everything is as it seems.”

Approaching footsteps sound near the hall and we both glance at the door.

“We’re out of time,” he says. “Get on with it.”

“I can’t do it,” I whisper. How can I when everything is suddenly so unclear?

“If you don’t, your boss will takeyouout.”

“You can’t certain of that,” I say.

“I can,” he retorts. “Remember, I met Stephen Black. If his son is anything like him…”

I’m about to tell him that Gideon isn’t like that. That he would never harm me. But the words won’t come out when I realizeIcan’t be certain ofthat.

“If you don’t, they will,” Sergio says, pointing to the door. “At least you can make it quick.”

“I don’t—” Before I can finish my sentence, Sergio grabs the knife I left sitting beside him and jams it into his own throat.

Though I’m not one to gasp at every little surprise, I have to stifle a scream of horror. I rush to him as he slumps over, and help him gently lie on his back.

He takes hold of my hand as he tries to die with dignity. But damn, it must hurt to stab yourself in the neck.

“You stupid man. I could have made it painless,” I say.

His mouth opens slightly as with his eyes he tells me that I could have, but I was a coward.

When he finally fades, I squeeze his hand. I’d pray for his soul, but I’m not sure a plea from me would do him any favors. Actually, it might guarantee his ticket to Hell. Best I keep quiet.

I place a 2009 penny over each of his eyes. For the first time in months, a pound of guilt is added to my already heavy burden.

I didn’t kill him, but his blood is still on my hands.

6

SCARLET

From my luggage, I grab the box full of sterile disposable scalpels and go to the bathroom counter. I take out one of the blades and insert it into the stainless-steel handle. Then, I lift my shirt and on an exhale, slide the sharp tool to make two marks on the skin of my lower back, just beneath all the others.

The lines go from white to red as blood fills them and forms tiny rivulets that roll down toward my waist.

Sergio Ramos and Jorge Ruiz.

Two more deaths added to my list. Two more sins. Two more scars.

The cuts sting. They always do. But the hardest part comes after, when I have to lift my gaze to the mirror and search my eyes for a soul. Is it still there? Some days it’s hard to tell.

Today is one of those days.

It’s Gunn. He’s thrown me off my mojo. I’m confused. Disorientated.

Taking out a criminal has never been an issue for me. Taking out one of the men on Gideon’s list even less. Yet with Sergio I hesitated. I doubted. I asked fucking questions.

---