Page 122 of The Mafia Assassin's Redemption
I slap the pictures on the piece of paper down. “Seen these?”
The guy shrugs. “The big boss used to wave them around uptown. Why? Have you?”
“Something like that,” I say, wishing I could shoot him, but his main crime’s against Mikhail so… I pull out my wallet and put the picture of Shiv down.
“Have you seen someone who looks like this?”
“Yeah,” he says. “The big boss.”
Suddenly everything clicks perfectly into place, and I take off without another word, dialing Harry again. It goes to voicemail. I get Liam’s voicemail, too. I don’t wait for my brothers. Adrenaline pushes me forward. I make it down to Harry’s street, and I turn, running until I hit her apartment.
I slam open the door with my shoulder, one gun holstered under my hoodie and one pressed against the small of my back. I race up the stairs and kickopen Harry’s door.
And my world crumbles.
Harry stands there with a woman I know.
There’s a look on Harry’s face, one that reminds me of her at ten. The fear and confusion and fight.
The woman has a gun. It’s pointed at my heart.
Right at Harry’s chest.
My. Heart.
“Hello, Tor.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
harry
I gulpdown oxygen to calm myself, but it’s hard with a gun pointed at my heart. I stare at Joan. But Torin looks at her, stone-faced, cold.
“Siobhan.”
For a moment nothing happens. The world hangs, unmoving.
Then she snarls, her face crumpling with pent-up fury. She swings her gun at Torin, who holds his steady in her direction.
“You fucking bastard,” she cries out. “This? You chose this? After me?”
I want to speak, but words don’t come. They catch in my constricted throat. How can I say a damn word? I’ve just gone and shattered the looking glass after being thrown through it. I’m trapped in a living nightmare.
Siobhan?
The woman he loved, who died? Supposedly died?
And she’s gorgeous.
Those comments to me in the church make a sudden, terrible sense.
“It’s been twelve years, Shiv, and to be fair, I was told youwere dead.” Torin looks at her, not at me. At her. “I went to your funeral.”
Her eyes narrow and her ire burns flames around her, searing my senses. “With a love like ours?” she asks, mocking. Then she turns horribly, deadly serious. “You should’ve known I was alive.”
It’s like a knife to the heart because he just looks at her and nods. “I did love you.”
Those words cut into me, so deep I can feel the blood flooding my insides.
