Page 64 of Unhinged Little Angel

Don’s face pales again and beads of sweat form on his brow.

“Get writing.” I toss the pen down on top of the pad of paper, then bring my foot up to the edge and shove the whole table towards him.

When he doesn’t move right away, Salvatore jabs the back of his head with the muzzle of his gun. Don winces and reaches for the pen and paper.

“And hurry the fuck up,” I mutter.

I catch Salvatore’s eye and his lips twitch with a reassuring grin. The suicide note was his idea. I made peace with the fact that my family turned their backs on me years ago. If a suicide note from Don makes them see the light, they can stuff their apologies up their own asses as far as I’m concerned. But I’m petty enough to rub the truth in their face and make them sit with it for the rest of their lives.

He makes pathetic whimpering sounds as the pen scratches across the paper with his messy confession.

“Did Luis whimper like that when you hurt him?” I ask through clenched teeth.

He doesn’t answer, but I can see the flicker of something purely evil in his eyes. Even now, minutes from his own death, with a gun to his head, the memory of a child, hisownfucking child, whimpering nearly makes him smile.

“You’re a sick fuck,” I hiss, resisting the urge to spit on him only because we plan to leave the crime scene so the suicide note can make it to my aunt.

“There, it’s done,” he says, tossing the notepad at me. “Just let me go, okay? I’ll disappear, change my name, I’ll be as good as dead.”

I scan the note to make sure he actually confessed. He kept it brief, but the words are there.Dante lied in court, but the truth has been eating away at me for years. All those things he said I did… I’m so sorry… it was Luis. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I love my son. I couldn’t help myself. I’m so sorry.

I roll my eyes. It goes on like that for a few paragraphs, but I’m not going to stand here and give him editor’s notes. The truth is in there at least, so it’s good enough for me. I chuckle darkly and look up from the note to meet his eyes.

“You know what’s as good as dead, Donnie?” I drop the notebook on the table and leap up onto it. The added height has me looking down at the pathetic predator I’m cursed to share blood with. At least we don’t have to share a name anymore. And after this, we won’t share oxygen every again either. “Your lifeless body dangling from the ceiling fan.”

I raise my foot and kick him squarely in the chest. He gasps and stumbles backward, right where I wanted him. I jump off the table, landing quietly on the balls of my feet. Before he’s caught his breath, I have the noose around his neck.

“Stop, Dante, we’re family,” he pleads, clawing at the rope as it tightens around his neck.

I would love to hoist him up myself, but doctor’s orders and all, no strenuous activity for a few more weeks. Salvatore tugs the rope though, lifting Don off his feet a little at a time as he wheezes and chokes.

“We may share blood, Don,” I say darkly. “But we’re not family.”

SALVATORE

“Let me have the keys.” Dante holds his hand up expectantly as we make our way out the back entrance of Don’s apartment building.

There’s a new bounce in his step and an air of peace surrounding him, but the spark of challenge in his eyes is more than enough reassurance that my little spitfire is still in there too, daring me to argue with him about who’s going to drive.

“The last time I let you drive my car, you drugged and kidnapped me,” I remind him, biting back the teasing smirk that tugs at the corners of my mouth.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re really never going to let that go, are you?”

“Never.” I slip my hand into my pocket and jingle my keys just to goad him.

He stops in his tracks and swivels towards me. “Come on, don’t make me fight you for them. I’m still supposed to be taking it easy with my shoulder, how bad will you feel if I hurt myself trying to wrestle you for your keys?”

“That’s a low blow, Angel.” I tut, shaking my head and pulling my keys out.

The combination of sass and smugness on his face as he catches them makes my heart trip over a beat. I reach for him, but he dances backward before I can get my hands on him, his laughter echoing off the nearby buildings.

“Brat,” I mutter, picking up my pace to keep up with him as he jogs the rest of the way to where we parked the car, a few blocks down and around the corner.

“Don’t worry, there’s no way I could drag your unconscious body into the car right now anyway.” He plucks my sunglasses from the visor and slides them on.

I chuckle and adjust my seat. “I never underestimate you, Angel. If you wanted to find a way to drag my limp body around, I’m sure you would.”

“Lucky for you, the conscious version of you has grown on me just a little bit.” He flashes me a toothy grin and starts the car.

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