Page 110 of Vicious Heir

We barrel straight into his car, ramming it hard enough to rattle my fucking teeth. If this truck has an airbag, it’d deploy about now. But instead, the front’s been reinforced with special steellike a damn battering ram, and it tears into Richard’s car like paper.

The BMW tips onto its side. I push it a few feet more, right up to the curb, before slamming on the brakes. Richard’s car skids a few more feet before coming to a stop.

I turn off the truck’s lights and kill the engine.

“That went surprisingly well,” Luca says, grinning widely. “We gotta do that again.”

“Another time.” I check my gun and open the door. “Business first.”

Poor Richard is trapped in the driver’s seat. His head is bleeding. The airbag’s in his face. He’s weakly struggling against it, his seatbelt keeping him pinned in place. I reach down and grab him by the shirt, dragging him free and yanking him up through the shattered window. Glass cuts his arms, and he moans in agony as I roughly dump him onto the pavement.

“What’s going on?” he says, blinking up at me. “What happened?”

“You had an accident, Richard.” I crouch down beside him. Luca remains standing and alert for any bystanders. The night is deadly quiet. “A very, very bad accident.”

“Oh, God,” he whispers as his eyes focus on me.

“Sorry, but he’s busy.”

I hit him hard with the barrel of my gun. It breaks open a fresh gash on his forehead as he crumples back to the ground. I watch him as he struggles to right himself, crying now. “Please, Don Marino. Please, I’m just a lawyer.”

“Now you learn your fucking manners.” I raise my gun again, and he flinches. I lower it slowly. “Who were you meeting with back in that house?”

“I can’t,” he whispers, fear on every inch of him. “You don’t know what they’d do to me.”

“They won’t do a damn thing because you’ll already be dead. Tell me who you were meeting with.”

He sobs, closing his eyes. “You can’t do this. I have friends. I have clients and connections?—”

“And none of them are here with you right now.” I jab the gun against his head. “I am, though. Tell me.”

The terror in his eyes is absolutely delicious. “Don’t make me.”

“Last chance.”

“It’s Demir.” He moans, wincing away. “It’s Demir!”

“There you go.” I lightly pat him with the end of the gun and stand.

“I won’t talk,” he says quickly, trying to drag himself away. “I won’t say a word. I got hit by a drunk driver. He drove away. Please, Don Marino. I’m just a lawyer!”

“That’s right. You are just a lawyer. And if your wife wasn’t such a bitch to mine, I might even let you live.” I raise the gun and aim it. “Too bad you married such a piece of shit.”

“Wait!”

I pull the trigger. Richard’s skull shatters like any other, his brains misting to pink against the pavement. For all his wealth, he died like gutter scum, like everyone else.

“We should go,” Luca says, heading back to the truck.

I hesitate another moment. The night around here is too quiet. I put another bullet in Richard’s chest, just to be sure.

“You really should’ve been polite,” I tell his corpse.

Chapter 42

Lucy

“Oh my god,” Kennedy gushes as we slowly approach the front gates of a historic estate out in Gladwyne. “Look at this place. I honestly thought I was immune to feeling impressed by money after working for your grandmother, but—” She shakes her head, looking blown away.

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