Page 108 of Truck Stop Tempest

My intestines knotted tighter, vicious heat coiling through me. “I won’t lie. I want nothing more than to make them suffer before burying them.”

“Have you?” she asked, spine straightening.

“No.”

“There’ve been others though, haven’t there? The priest wasn’t the only person you’ve killed.”

Fuck. I didn’t want to have this conversation. “There have been others. It was my job.”

“For Aida’s father?”

My ticker stopped, hackles raised. “What do you know about Aida’s father?”

“That night, in the hotel, I heard Rafael talking to Aida. They talked about Luciano

Voltolini.”

I pretended to be amused, although my calm demeanor was nanoseconds from snapping. “I suppose you heard a lot of things that night.”

She leaned forward, elbows to knees, head tilted to hold my glare. “Yes.”

She’d kept the information to herself all this time.

Breathe in. One, two, three. Out. One, two, three. “So, you know who Voltolini was?”

“Everybody does,” she replied. I lost her to thought for a brief moment before she scooted closer, landing her hands on my knees. “Rafael told Aida that the devil came for his family. Took them out one by one. That he was the only Marcovic left.”

I swallowed a thick lump of disgust and loathing. Where the fuck was she going with this?

“The devil was you, Tito. Wasn’t it?”

And there it was, the Haymaker. One swift, no-holds-barred punch. The little bunny hit me with everything she had. No more secrets. No more reveals. She’d chipped away the last layer, leaving me raw. “They were bad people, Tuuli. The worst kind.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I broke out in a cold sweat. She wanted the real me. Well, there I was, sliced open, dripping all my ugly truths at her feet. “Voltolini ordered them dead. Those were his last words to me or anyone. I had to honor them.”

“Why?”

“Because I owed him my life.”

“Why?” She scooted closer still, no fear in her voice, no pleading in her eyes. No judgment. Only curiosity.

“Because he saved my life. Took care of everything after I choked that fuckin’ pedophile priest to death on his office floor. Luciano cleaned the mess. Made the evidence disappear. Took me under his wing. Taught me to channel my anger.”

“When was the last time you killed someone?”

God. Hadn’t she had enough? “Rafael Turner.”

“And the last time you wanted to kill someone?” she asked, unrelenting.

I pointed to the security feed. “When I found that girl with…” I couldn’t continue, my nerves already stretched beyond their limit. “I beat those fuckers to near death, but I stopped.”

“Why did you stop?”

I tapped at my temple. “You. Your voice in my head.”

She seemed to like that answer, her fingers curling into my flesh in response.

Still, she continued, “That’s not the only reason though, is it?”

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