Page 28 of Duke of Ruin

“I bought a cabin…in California. For…for us. You and me, we’ll be safe there.”

His expression softens, and for the briefest of moments hope sparks in my chest, but it doesn’t last.

“Fuck you, Noah,” he says, and slams the car door shut. I stand there and just stare as he pulls out of the parking space and drives away. I watch him until he’s out of sight, and a void opens up in my soul.

* * *

Somehow, I manage to leave the parking lot. I walk across the street and into a liquor store. It takes me a minute to process that the clerk is terrified of me, the vacant-eyed man covered in blood who’s trying to buy a bottle of whiskey. He ends up giving it to me for nothing. I still throw a few dollars onto the counter; I can’t help myself. The badge doesn’t help this time—apparently it only goes so far.

I swallow several mouthfuls of the burning liquid before finding my way to a bus stop. Some sort of instinctual self-preservation kicks in because I don’t even try to go back to my apartment. I’m sure Rossi or someone else would be sitting there waiting for me. Instead, I find myself at a cheap-ass motel in the harbor. I guess being close to what I now consider “our” apartment gives me some sort of solace.Shit. I didn’t tell Eli that the apartment is compromised. I pull out my phone to text him, but it’s gone dead. Of course I don’t have a charger with me, and finding one for this dinosaur will be close to impossible.

I take another few slugs of the whiskey, relaxing into the numbing sensation of the alcohol, and fall backward onto the bed, bloody clothes and all. I wish I could just explain it all to Eli. I wish I’d gotten up the nerve to do it sooner. Fuck, I wish I’d never agreed to this damn assignment in the first place. I roll over with the intention of taking my clothes off and getting in the shower, but I can’t seem to get my equilibrium. I squint at the bottle and realize that it’s almost empty. I tilt it back, swallow the last of the booze, and fall back onto the bed again. This time when I close my eyes, I don’t bother opening them again.

10

ELI

Iput the gas pedal to the floor. My Bentley will go fast, but I really wish I had some other car, something built for speed instead of comfort. I weave in and out of traffic as I cross Montcove toward the Carbone estate. I’ll be lucky if Uncle Gianni doesn’t shoot me where I stand when I tell him about this. I ignore the honks of car horns as I barrel my way through the city streets. No cops are out, not that I’m surprised. I imagine they’re all still down at the docks.

Fucking Noah. I can’t believe he would do this to me. I didn’t even tell him where the deal was happening. He must have found out some other way and ratted me out. I’m so fucking stupid. I can’t believe I fell for all his bullshit. I even showed him my apartment.Myfucking apartment, the one thing I kept secret from everyone. I thought he was fucking safe. I thought he was genuine, but this whole time it was just a bullshit ploy to get information about my fucking family. I launch my fist into the steering wheel, busting my knuckles and savoring the pain.

My mind flashes back to Noah, to our time together, the way he turned pain into the ultimate pleasure. I hit the steering wheel again and roar. How could he do this? How could someone be so goddamn fake? How could he have convinced me that he wasn’t? A split second of doubt creeps into my mind, but I shut it down. He lied. He fucking lied to my face, over and over again. Somehow he thinks he’s the fucking “good guy.” Such ridiculous bullshit. I love him. No, no, Ilovedhim. That’s been replaced with hate. That fucking bastard ruined me.

I barely even register where I am when I pull into the circular drive of the Carbone estate. I skid to a stop in front of the main doors and get out. When I try to stand up, I wrench my shoulder and yell a few colorful expletives as I slam the door shut. I storm into the grand entryway and up the stairs toward my uncle’s office. I’m sure after the shit-show at the docks he’s up there trying to do some damage control.

I burst through the door to find my uncle and my father in deep discussion at his desk, and they both look up at me in shock.

“What are you doing here?” my father blurts out.

“What the fuck happened out there?” I yell, and gesture toward my injured shoulder.

“We were told you were killed,” Uncle Gianni says, his eyes narrowing on me.

“Obviously not.” I glare back and forth between the two of them. They both eye me warily. They definitely don’t seem relieved that I’m alive. Suspicion rises in my blood as I stomp up to the desk. Uncle Gianni has a video conference up on his computer, and the person on the screen is none other than the Montcove Chief of Police.

“What the fuck is going on?” I shout.

“Nothing to bother yourself with,” Uncle Gianni says. “You need to rest. Why don’t you go back to your room?”

“No!” My eyes dart back and forth between the two men and the screen. “What happened?”

“Just tell him,” the face on the screen says. “If he managed to survive this, he’ll make a great asset.”

“Asset?” I bark. “What are you talking about?”

“No, he’s compromised,” Gianni says to the screen. The police chief shrugs and remains quiet. “Mario, take care of this.” Gianni gestures toward me.

“I want to know what happened! Why was I almost killed? Why are you talking with the Chief?” I shout, but my father stands up and takes my arm. I snatch it away, but my father grips my injured shoulder, sending blinding bolts of pain through me.

“Come with me, son. I’ll explain,” he says. I glare at my uncle for a second, but then willingly go with my father. He stays silent as we walk out of the estate and toward my father’s sedan. My body feels weak and heavy as I drop into the passenger seat and lay my head back, closing my eyes.

“You weren’t supposed to survive,” my father says after a painfully long silence. I try to open my eyes, but the world is swimming and I feel like I’m going to be sick.

“What?” I manage to gasp. We should already be back at my father’s part of the estate. “Where are we going?”

“To tie up loose ends,” he says. I lay my head back against the headrest again and start to slip from consciousness. I fight to stay awake, but I can’t. Darkness swallows me.

When I open my eyes again we’re sitting at the docks. My father is still in the driver’s seat, only now he’s holding a 9mm pistol in his lap. His expression is pained, and my heart starts pounding.

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