Page 4 of Broken Vows

Someone has to launder the accounts.

Neutralize facial recognition on the security feeds.

Make the union rep disappear for a week—his third stroke this year.

That person is always me.

Or at least, it is if I want things to run right.

I barely gettwo steps in the office before I hear footsteps crunch behind me.

Too casual for any man who’s ever bled for this family.

"Vinny! Tell me I missed the fun."

Marco’s voice is sugar-rush bright. Sliding off every syllable like he’s already bored.

Mentally out on a yacht with gorgeous bikini models.

I exhale. Count to three. Then turn.

"You’re late."

He grins.

Blood splatters across his gray suit—tailored, custom, wasted on a psycho.

Even I’d never wear light colors to a scene like this.

But Marco always wants someone to notice.

Wants people to remember what he’s capable of.

And what the rest of us are willing to tolerate.

He drops a small bag on my desk. Something heavy thuds inside—a dark, wet stain beginning to bloom against the security plastic.

"Goddamn, Marco. I told you—let the cleaners take all the evidence."

I say it flat.

He shrugs.

Sticks his fingers in his hair to mess it up further.

Blue eyes wired on adrenaline.

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that? Shit gets lost in the chain of custody, you know how it is. Personal touch means they won’t forget, even if all that’s left is a wedding band.” He opens the bag. Out slides a gold ring with a finger still attached.

A ripple of nausea crawls up my throat.

I shove it down.

Into the usual place—the compartment where grief, rage, and regret all belong.

“You didn’t need to bring me proof, Marco. We’ve got cameras.”

He laughs.

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