Page 75 of Scorned Obsession

“I’m a mess.”

“A little blood doesn’t bother me.” But I had a feeling it wasn’t a little blood. He gave me a light shake again. “Are you okay?”

“I’m thinking…” And that was the truth. The carnage and dealing with Griselda were too much to process right now. I held up my hands that were shaking. “Sandro…”

“That’s adrenaline, baby,” he said.

Oh, that was probably why I felt invincible when I handled Griselda.

Sticks approached us with a wry grin on his face. “Queen,” he called me and then turned to Sandro. “I’m sorry they got the jump on me. Miller is watching Gian.” He glowered at the body in the foyer. “I wasn’t expecting them to go on immediate offensive when they arrived. How did you know?”

“Gian was acting weird and Tommy was not answering my calls. I couldn’t get a hold of you guys. What happened?”

“One of our men is working with Raffa. He put in a jammer.”

“You know who it is?”

“Miller took care of him.”

“Gian told you about Raffa’s plans?” I asked.

“He had no choice. I played Russian roulette with his head.”

One hour earlier

Sandro

Tommy wasn’t answering his phone. My calls kept going to voicemail.

Meanwhile, Gian was pacing at the rear end of a commercial truck that held our pallet of cocaine. He took a drag of his cigarette. He rarely smoked, and it was usually when shit was so dicey, it was about to hit the fan.

Something was up, and he and Tommy were keeping it from me. Maybe they were colluding to get rid of me.

Two other SUVs loaded with soldiers were parked beside us. We were all waiting for Tommy.

Arnie was leaning against the back of the truck but he was looking at me and then looking at Gian. The older Scavo had always been a soldier. He’d never wanted to be in charge of decisions, saying he liked the street work better. Earlier, I told Arnie to call Tommy just in case it was me he had an issue with. After all, Tommy was still pissed about the club. But he’d been sending Arnie’s calls to voicemail, too.

I wasn’t gonna drive three hours to Birmingham to meet the Toronto Albanians if my instincts were clawing at me to stay. So I called our contact and cancelled the drop-off, saying things were too hot right now.

Gian’s eyes narrowed at me when he heard me change the plans. “Are you insane? Tommy worked so hard to get that meeting.”

“Yeah, yet he’s not here. So where is he, Gian?”

“I don’t know. He must still be in a snit about the club.”

I walked to the back of the truck where Arnie was standing. “You have your revolver on you, Arnie? Can I have it?”

Brows furrowing, he didn’t question me but tossed me the gun. I checked the weapon. Tipped out the rounds and put one back in and spun the cylinder.

I walked back to Gian. With astonishment etched on his face, he foolishly squared off against me, his eyes darting between the gun in my hand and my face.

When I pressed the muzzle to his forehead, he dropped the cigarette and froze.

“How about you?” I asked softly. “Are you having a snit over something?”

“Boss…” Arnie stepped forward.

“Don’t interfere, Arnie.”

---