Page 72 of Bastard Prince
No, a true tale of love involved sacrifice and heartache. It involved trials and blood, stitches and scars. What good was a happy ending if you didn’t have to work for it?
I had sacrificed, alright. I had scars and stains on my heart, and I had earned every single one of them.
My entire life, I had been the one to give. I gave to my family. I gave to the Mafia.
I gave every part of my authentic self, allowing the pieces of who I truly was to be torn from me, scattered in the wind by the careless hands of everyone around me.
I gave until I hadnothingleft.
So, I decided this time I was not going to let Caroline Anderson or anyone else take another goddamn thing from me.
Rising from my knees, I stood as tall as my petite stature would allow and faced the woman who had derived nothing but pleasure in my every torment.
“What exactly is it you want from me, Anderson?” I asked plainly. “You’ve made an awful big effort here, working not only with that low-level thug, Dino, but the Sheriff of the Las Vegas Police Department? I am confused as to which side you’re even on these days?”
Anderson scoffed, looking down her nose at me, which she obviously loved to do.
“The Sheriff is planning on running for Governor next year. I told him I could get him an endorsement from the Director of the FBI if he helped me with my little side project.” Rolling her eyes, she added, “I suppose my substantial campaign donation might also have had something to do with it.”
Well, that certainly made sense.
“So, what? You’re going to have me arrested? I didn’t kill Jerry Lebowitz.”
Anderson laughed. “Of course you didn’t. I did.”
Well, fuck.
“At least, I had him killed.” She sniffed, her nose scrunching as if the thought of actually having to touch Lebowitz was off-putting.
Which it was.
“When the Sheriff told me about your little show at that grubby fight club your husband runs, I thought, what a perfect opportunity to cause you some trouble.” Crossing her arms over her narrow chest, Anderson scowled at me. “But then you had to go and alibi out, making the whole thing a complete waste of my time.”
There was a lot to unpack there, but I pressed on, hoping to come up with some way to get my ass out of here and back to Enzo.
“And Dino?” I pushed. “Where does he fit into your master plan?”
“That meathead is barely capable of tying his own shoes, never mind making any kind of useful contribution to anything.”
“Still doesn’t tell me what he’s doing here, working with the FBI.”
“Oh, he was sent to Las Vegas on aspecialassignment. Him and that guy you killed last night. That was slick, by the way. Dino was pissed when he wasn’t allowed to be the one to try and run you off the road, but he sure changed his tune this morning.” My mind was spinning, trying to keep up with all the shit she was throwing at me. Dino was sent here to kill me? Who would useDino,of all people, as a tool to accomplish anything, never mind something as difficult as an assassination?
I considered what I knew of Dino. He was a sleaze in every sense of the word, and I wouldn’t put it past him to sell someone out at the first opportunity if he got even an ounce of advancement.
He reminded me of Silvio.
Holy shit.
Caroline must have seen the realization in my expression, because she chuckled.
“Oh, you’re catching up now, aren’t you?”
“It was Silvio,” I breathed, my heart racing as I slotted all the pieces into place. “This entire time. All these years, everything that happened. It was always Silvio.”
We had all known that Silvio had resented when my father was promoted to Underboss instead of him. He was the older son, after all. In any other situation, the seat should have been his.
But Silvio was careless, sloppy, and imprudent. He was in no way qualified to work as Underboss; the man was barely qualified to run a blender.
