Page 113 of Filthy Little Games

And Bowen Bertelli must be a gigantic idiot as well, to not only go against Creed, but his own damn father.

I need to give Creed all of this information, so he’ll finally know who was responsible for Carmine’s death and make them pay.

For weeks, he’s felt like it was his fault his brother died. That’s why he was so determined to find who was behind it, to have someone else to hurt and blame.

I only need one last thing from Emilio.

“What are you going to do to Creed?”

“I’m going to convince him to put a gun to his own head and pull the trigger,” he says simply. “Just like Izaiah did to those two cops.”

Over my dead body,I think before it occurs to me that’s exactly what Emilio is going to use to convince Creed to do it — my life for his.

35

Creed

Roscoe’s information wasn’t as useful as I hoped. He did help us narrow down Emilio’s list of properties to four instead of twenty in Brooklyn by tracking his phone. I’ve moved most of my men but kept two at the other locations, just in case all the cell phones were abandoned in one area and Emilio took Zara and the others somewhere else.

“So, what’s the plan here, boss?” Tristan asks as we sit a block away from a property. “Take four teams and bust in guns blazing?”

“I wish it were that easy.” I shove my fingers through my hair to avoid looking at the time on my phone yet again. It’s been hours, and I know we’re running short on time to make a move. I just don’t know which move will save Zara and which ones might doom her.

“We’ll need to take out all the security cameras around each building,” I explain. “There are probably plenty of guards,watching over each, who will sound the alarm to everyone as soon as they spot us. At best, we might sneak up on them at one location, but not all four. And I don’t fucking know which one to choose!”

My cell phone dings with a new text message I almost ignore, so I won’t see how much time has passed since I’ve been debating this fucking decision.

But I do cave and look.

The words turn my world upside down.

“What is it?” Dre asks from the driver seat when I keep staring down at the screen.

“It says...it says: ‘Your WIFE wants to tell you goodbye. She wishes you well and doesn’t want you to do anything rash.’”

“Bullshit,” Tristan huffs from the backseat. “There’s no way Emilio would just come out and admit that he has her in a text message.”

I click on the notification to read the entire message again and again.

Leaning up between the seats, Tristan reads it over my shoulder. “He’s setting up a trap, boss. You know that.”

“I don’t care. If she’s still alive...”

“You can’t believe a word that fucker says,” Dre remarks. “There’s no way to know if she’s alive just because he says so in a text.”

“I’m calling him.” I pull up the number and dial it before anyone can protest. I was expecting a smug Emilio to answer. That’s not what I get.

“Creed?”

Hearing her voice say my name makes me glad I’m sitting down. If I had been standing, it would have dropped me to my knees.

“It could be a recording,” Dre whispers, since he must have heard her voice as well.

“Zara, baby, are you okay?”

“I’m...I’m alive,” she replies, which isn’t very comforting. “Your men are not. I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t think they would be.” Rafael, Shawn, Carlo, and Gino were good men. Loyal to their deaths. And I’ll make sure their families never want for anything.

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