Truthfully speaking, I didn’t give a shit about my family, not after the way they openly disrespected Indigo like that to my own fucking face. With the exception of Roma, if mother and Vassily were to drop dead today, I’d not only dance on their graves, I’d probably piss on them as well.
So why the fuck didn’t I kill them right then and there? I’ve certainly killed more important people for far lesser of an offense.
I stare out the window into the Manhattan skyline and catch sight of the green tower of the Woolworth Building in the distance. Through the soft light, the green is muted at night, and it gives off an almost soft hazel that reminds me of Indigo’s eyes.
That’s why, I think bitterly as I grab the whisky in front of me and drains it in a single gulp.
Miels is crying again.
As much as I wanted to kill, I didn’t want to make Indigo watch it happen. She came from a family with parents that loved her, and she grieved for them when they died. Which was why I suspected that she apologized tomeeven though it was mother and Vassily who hurt her.
But more importantly, she didn’t ask me to kill them in front of her.
I wasn’t about to put their deaths on her conscience.
And after what we did in that study once we were alone, I’ve never been more certain that I made the right choice today.
But fuck if she didn’t leave me wanting more.
My jaw clenches as I recall how she came undone around my finger, how she stared into my eyes as she came, and how despite how close both of us lost control, shestill refused to fucking beg.
I would be more annoyed at her if I also wasn’t so fucking aroused anytime I’m next to her.
So when Roma said he wanted to talk, I took the opportunity to step away. Even if every fiber in my body demanded that I stay.
“Are you going to keep drinking and brooding in silence, or are you going to say something?” Roma finally asks.
I give him a glare, and pour another two fingers of whiskey into my glass before sliding the bottle over to him.
“What’s so fucking important that you needed to see me?”
“Well.” Roma doesn’t even bother with his glass this time around as he takes a swig. “First, I had to make sure that you didn’t decide to put a hit on dear mother and Vasya after the little incident three days ago.”
“I fucking should’ve.”
“Mmm.” He winces. “And second, I came to deliver you this.”
He reaches inside of his jacket, pulls out a key, and slides it over to me. There’s an address written on the tag attached to the keychain, and I recognize it as one of the butcher shops we own on Staten Island that frequently doubles as a convenient place to do the more unpleasant work like murder and torture.
Simple shit. Uncomplicated.
“What’s in here?”
“Well, I did exactly like you asked,” he explains. “Had our lead in the NYPD pull the arrest records for Malcolm Taylor, and then found the two cops who took him in. Then had our lead pull up the officers who closed the case on Claire Taylor’s hit and run, and wouldn’t you know it.”
“Same guys?”
“Same fucking guys.”
A savage satisfaction tremors in my bones. I can’t kill my family in front of Indigo, but maybe I can still killsomething.After all, she’s the one who requested that she be there to see me do it.
And holy fuck do I want to kill something right now.
“You get any other information out of them?”
“Not much. They did confirm that they scooped up Malcolm Taylor on Bennet’s personal orders.”
Really? Now that’s interesting. Very interesting.