Page 58 of Sin City Obsession

“Good.” She lifted the blade slightly. “Now. Let’s start at the top.” She stepped around, then, into his line of sight, making sure to keep the blade visible. “My name is Alessa Adimari. I don’t work for the Cavallo family. I work for the man who kept your family fucking swimming when the tide got too rough a while back—I work for the De Salvofamily.”

To his credit, Cousin’s eyes widened with a glimmer of something like recognition. He was an idiot, but perhaps not a full ignorant one.

Alessa continued. “That case of mysterious toys that gave Miss Carla the heebie-jeebies? That was my toolbox. Those were tools I was planning to use on an enemy ofmyfamily’s, who happened to be nestled inyourbackyard.” She pointed the blade at Cousin. “And you oh-so-helpfully threw it in the fucking trash. That was a pretty big inconvenience for me, and for Mr. De Salvo by extension. You understand?”

Cousin swallowed hard. “Shit,” he grunted. “I-I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Uh-huh.” Alessa dropped into a crouch, giving him height over her but keeping the blade between them. It made no difference, after all, since he still couldn’t move. “And in your job description, is there some fine print that states how you’re entitled to know all the details of a situation, or otherwise you’re exempt from the consequences?”

He swallowed again. This time, he didn’t answer.

Alessa frowned. “I asked a question, Cousin.”

His brow twitched. “It’s Al.”

The breath froze in her lungs. She nearly dropped the knife, her fingers instantly numb. Why … why had he said her brother’s name? “What?” If she could think clearly, she would never have let herself speak to her captive in such a weak, vulnerable tone.

He didn’t miss it, of course. Nor did it soften his building rage. “My fucking name,” he snapped. “It’s not ‘Cousin’, it’sAl. Alberto, but no one calls me that.”

His name.This man’s name was Al. Rather, it was the shortened nickname he went by.

Alessa rocked back and stepped away, her composure shattering by the second. Her vision blurred and the knife finally slipped to the floor as her throat constricted. Her father’s words echoed through her memory.

“There’s been a … an accident. Alfonso, your brother, he’s … he’s gone. He’s gone.”

She couldn’t kill this man.

She couldn’t force someone else to make that same phone call.

She didn’t know whether or not this Al had living parents, whether or not he had siblings, but it didn’t matter. The possibility of forcing that call to repeat itself in history made her want to vomit. She couldn’t do it.

It was her job. Arguably, these loose ends had potentially jeopardized her original mission and were now a part of her job. She was expected to deal with that. She couldn’t. She didn’t even know if she could ask someone else to.

A rough hand took hold of her shoulder, making her wince. It was the shoulder with the still healing bullet wound, which itself was covered by her sleeve. Marzio’s agitated, clipped voice cut through her panicking haze. “Hey. What the hell’s going on with you? Are you having a stroke or something? Aren’t you kinda young for that?”

Something like irritation flared beneath the pain and the panic, just high enough, just long enough, for Alessa to shove Marzio off. “Just— You do it.” Her throat constricted again and she collapsed against the wall.

Marzio scoffed. “Not my job.”

“Hey! What the fuck’s going on?” Al shouted over to them. The Al who still lived.

Tears and pain fogged Alessa’s brain. She couldn’t see this one through. It needed doing, but she couldn’t see it through. So she fumbled in her pocket until she found her phone, she ignored Marzio barking at her to leave it off, and as soon as it powered on, she dialed Rocco.

It wasn’t Rocco’s job, either. He had so many other jobs on his plate. He had every reason to refuse, or to send some random gun in his stead. She nearly hung up as the option flitted through her mind, but then it was too late. The line connected.

“Miss me already, beautiful?”

Alessa opened her mouth to speak and found she could only gasp. She had no voice, her lungs too constricted and her sinuses too congested. He was already calling her name by the time she managed to stutter a word. “I-I c-can’t…”

“Shit. Are you at the site?”

She did her best to hum an affirmative.

“I’m on my way. Just shoot anyone who tries to touch you. And I mean fucking anyone.” He disconnected, but her phone was barely back in her lap before it buzzed with a text from him.

And keep breathing.

Keep breathing.

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