Page 90 of Wicked Roses

“YOU BITCH!” he screams in agony. “You fucking bitch, you’re dead now—”

One moment, Galecki’s on top of me, wresting my hands from his eyes. The next moment, there’s a subdued bang that’s both dignified and violent. He’s slumping sideways off of me and his heavy hands that were clenched shut around my wrists are gone.

I gasp for my first breath in what feels like a lifetime.

“Miss ADA!” Stitches jogs over with his pistol in hand, the silencer attached to the barrel. He kneels beside me and helps me sit up, his wire-framed glasses low on his nose. “I told you fifteen minutes. Sixteen minutes, and this is what I find? That’s not Cade.”

“No,” I cough. My throat aches so much I can barely speak. “That’s Detective Galecki.”

Stitches spares him a look. “He’s dirty?”

I nod.

“Well, good news for us. Nobody will miss him. We’ll dispose of him and spin a story.”

I’m still trying to catch my breath as I force more air into my lungs. Galecki lays a couple feet off. His body is twisted, his face buried in the carpet. Blood mats in his dark hair from the bullet lodged in the back of his head.

“Wait ’til Psycho hears about this,” Stitches laments. “He’s not gonna be happy.”

25. salvatore

I returnto Nirvana wearing Azeria’s blood like some morbid fashion statement. He’s not dead—yet. That’ll come later. For now he’s suffering in agony while I bask in the aftereffects of my high. It felt amazing making him bleed.

Crazed laughter and all.

It’s started snowing again, a real Christmas Eve cliché. Tiny flakes dust the city streets, resembling spilled sugar from the club windows.

Stitches waits for me the instant I set foot inside my office. He’s wringing his hands with a smile that’s supposed to be pleasant but looks painful on his face. I stop dead. I know this look all too well.

“What is it now, Francis?”

“You might want to clean up first, Psycho.”

“I might want to add your blood to the blood on my clothes if you don’t quit stalling. What’s that look for?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Well... remember how I was taking Delphine out for a morning jog?”

“Francis,” I growl, in attack mode at once. I stalk toward him. “Tell me nothing went wrong and that Phi’s safe and unharmed.”

“Uh, some of that’s true. She’s safe now, and she’smostlyunharmed. A few bruises here and there, but—”

“What the fuck happened!?” It’s not often I raise my voice. I tend to prefer more of a lethal yet collected approach. That goes out the window the second I realize something bad happened.

Stitches backs up to create more space between us and launches into a hurried explanation of what went down. Delphine’s morning jog was fine until she was asked to meet the guy from Cyber Crimes at city hall. Some piece of trash dirty cop showed up instead and tried to kill her. Luckily, Stitches interrupted just in time and put a bullet in his skull.

“You think it’s all connected?” Stitches asks. “She said he had no clue about her assault.”

“I’ll find out tonight when I make Azeria cry like a little bitch.”

Stitches grins. “You sure you don’t need any help? I’m riding a high after the cop. We dumped him in a vat of sulfuric acid. Skin melted right off. Don’t worry, I took Delphine to the loft first.”

“Go check in with Omar. See if he needs any help getting things situated with Azeria. We won’t have him for long.”

A fist beats against my door. Fabio speaks on the other end. “Psycho, you’ve got a visitor.”

My eyes meet Stitches, who shrugs. Who would be visiting me this late in the afternoon on Christmas fucking Eve?

I stride over to the door and yank it open. “What kind of visitor?”

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