Page 68 of The Killer Cupcake
"Janey, please, you're scaring me." Kathy kept backing toward the door, her hands searching blindly for the chair blocking it. "Why are you angry at Carmelo? What has he done?"
Janey began to twitch violently. She paced in tight circles, hitting herself on the side of the head and muttering incoherently about being a bad girl and being put in the box where the spiders ate her. Kathy knew something was desperately wrong, but she couldn't remember all the things Pinkie had taught her to do when Janey's episodes turned dangerous.
A sharp knock cracked against the door like a gunshot. Kathy spun toward it, but Janey was already moving—predator-quick, clamping an arm around Kathy's chest and a hand over her mouth with shocking strength.
"Shhh..." Hot breath against her ear.
"Janey? Kathy? Open up." Carmine's voice was tight with controlled panic. "Let me in."
Kathy trembled in her aunt's grip. She could fight—maybe even win—but something told her that would send Janey somewhere they couldn't come back from.
"Janey!" The door rattled in its frame. "I know you're in there. Woke up and you were gone. You've had your time. We need to go."
That's when Janey began to whisper. Each word was a knife sliding between Kathy's ribs. Carmelo was married. Had been for two years. An Italian girl named Maria. Twin babies—boy and girl. A whole house, a whole life in New York. Matteo andDebbie coming for Sunday dinners like one big happy family. Everyone knew. Her parents knew. They'd all known while she rotted in Butts, waiting for a man who only visited when he needed what his wife couldn't give. The big bad Wolf, playing house while she played the little piggie. The fool.
The scream that tore from Kathy when Janey released her didn't sound human. She collapsed near the bed, her body trying to turn itself inside out from the pain.
Janey watched with savage satisfaction. "Now you see. Now you understand what they are. WE kill him together.”
"JANEY!" The door shook violently under Carmine's assault.
Kathy couldn't stop the sounds coming from her—raw wails that felt like they were ripping her soul out through her throat.
Janey knelt beside her, stroking her hair with a mother's false tenderness. “Did you hear me? We can kill him together,ma petite. Or break him like I broke Carmine—make him our puppet, our slave. We're Elliott women. We don't feel pain,chère. We give it."
"Get away from me!" Kathy screamed. "GET AWAY!"
The door exploded inward. Carmine and Deion charged through, hotel staff crowding behind. Janey launched herself at her husband like something feral, all nails and teeth and rage. It took three men to pin her down.
Kathy stayed curled on the floor where she'd fallen, barely aware of the chaos. Janey's screams echoed down the hall as they dragged her away. Gentle hands tried to lift Kathy, women's voices murmuring comfort she couldn't hear.
She turned her face to the wall and let herself fall into that dark, quiet place she'd found the day they shot her father in front of her.
The void. Where nothing could touch her. Where nothing could hurt.
Where wolves couldn't reach.
The sparring partner'spunch connected with the force of a sledgehammer. Carmelo dropped hard, the canvas rushing up to meet him with a sick thud that echoed through the empty gym.
"Shit!" Matteo vaulted through the ropes, dropping to his knees beside his brother's motionless form. "Melo! Get up!"
Nothing. Carmelo lay there like a corpse, blood trickling from his split lip.
Matteo hauled him up, propping his brother against his shoulder. Carmelo's head lolled sideways, eyes unfocused. The stink of last night's bourbon seeped from his pores.
"You have to get it together. Do you hear me?" Matteo shook him hard.
Six hours ago, he'd found Carmelo face-down in a Beale Street speakeasy, mumbling about Kathy, about betrayal, about how she'd know soon and hate him forever. Matteo had carried him out on his back, dumped him in a cold shower, and forced black coffee down his throat until he could stand. Barely.
Now this. The fight was in two days. Every wise guy from here to Chicago had money riding on the Wolf delivering the South. If Carmelo didn't show, or worse, if he showed and lost...
Matteo's hand went instinctively to his neck. He could already feel the bullet.
"Get him up," he barked at his men. "Take him to the room. Ice bath, more coffee. Whatever it takes."
They lifted Carmelo between them like a broken doll. Matteo watched them go, his jaw tight. Caesar would've known what to do. Caesar always knew. But Caesar was back in New York, and Matteo was here with a brother who'd rather die than fight.
He stalked across the street to the phone booth, feeding coins into the slot with shaking hands. The operator connected him, and he waited, counting the rings.
