Page 106 of Jig's Last Dance

“Well, um, Uncle Sal,” I mumble, licking my lips.

“Great,” he huffs. “What the fuck, Alice? Do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

Rubbing my forehead, I say wearily, “Yes. He’s all up my ass, and he doesn’t like the word no.”

“Which wouldn’t be an issue if you hadn’t called him to begin with.” He flings his arm around.

“Maybe if you hadn’t freaked out on me, I wouldn’t have,” I say sourly.

“You were with that fucker. You still are. I saw his bozo friend out there,” he barks.

“I got drunk at a party, and Jig brought me home to sleep it off, asshole. At the time, it was completely harmless,” I say before shaking my head. This is so not important right now. “Whatever. Ben, Uncle Sal said our parents were run off the road. Did you know?”

My stomach sinks when his eyes widen before he looks away. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you didn’t need to know! What would it have done? Nothing. You were better off thinking it was an accident.”

Right. Look where that got me.

“Do you know who, um, did it?”

Ben eyes me strangely but says, “I only know what Sal told me.”

“Which is?” I ask, biting my lip. Do I want to know this? It doesn’t matter because all roads lead back to me being fucked if I don’t figure out what everyone is hiding.

“I don’t think that fucker would know the truth if it hit him in the face, but he said it was one of McCafferty’s henchmen. Revenge or something.”

All the air sucks from the room, and I stare at him blankly. Is it true? Or was Sal lying? If not, then I guess I know why John keeps pushing me toward Jig.

But why? Could it be related to Mandy? Jig basically confirmed she was one of John’s victims at the cabin. Does that mean my dad was involved too?

It’s a possibility I hate to admit. Besides, supposedly my dad betrayed Castinetti, which is another motive for murder.

“Fuck,” I murmur, bowing my head. What if Jig was responsible? Would I have a right to be angry if he was avenging his sister?

My head says no, but my heart says hell yes.

Whatever. I can’t think about this now. Shaking off the news, I raise my head and catch Ben’s expression, a stark look that makes my already aching stomach clench before it’s gone.

“What’s going on, Ben?” I whisper, chilled.

“Nothing. Just lay low, Ali.”

“Lay low? That’s your solution? Really?” I say sullenly.

Ben chuffs. “This is your own damn fault.”

Pausing, I clench my teeth so hard a shooting pain goes up my jaw and ends in my damn brain. It doesn’t matter what I say. Ben’s decided, and I’m voted off the damn island.

I’m wasting my time. I need to focus. Someone shot at us, the pictures in the cabin, and last, the news about Sal supposedly being my father.

Frankly, I’m afraid to ask for fear of the answer. Maybe Jig lied about that too. I sure fucking hope so.

“Ben, what about John? Did Dad ever talk about John?”

“Who?” he asks, crinkling his brow.

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