Page 91 of Bullseye
But she has to. Without Sen… There’s no reason for any of it.
Downshifting, we speed out toward Don Bordono’s house. The only person who can free Matt.
Because if he doesn’t, then the only way to get Matt out is if I go down. I only served a short sentence before Don Bordono “convinced” the right people that I wasn’t in the room at the time of the murder. If I were to admit who the killers were, then I’d have to admit I was there. And I’d have to take the rap—not for murder, but for everything else.
I could be looking atyears.
Fuck.
***
“What is this place?”
After the harrowing ride back out to the island, during which she clawed at my back and even covered my eyes one time—until I swerved and nearly killed us both—we’re in front of Don Bordono’s mansion.
I wait for her to hop off the bike before I swing my leg over and dismount.
“Looks like home sweet home, doesn’t it?”
Raising an eyebrow, she glares at me. “It’s a little small for me.”
Sighing, my tense shoulders slump forward. I’m sick of this. All of it; the pettiness, the secrets, and the anger around each other. All I want to do is to pull her into my arms and take her to bed, but that doesn’t seem to be an option any longer.
Stalling by the bike, I realize that strangely, this time, I’m not met by Don Bordono’s security.
What the hell is going on?
Taking her hand, I turn to her. “Sen. This is probably my only chance to say this. My one shot. So, listen, please. We’re here for a couple of reasons. Don Bordono is our only hope. He’s also holding my father somewhere because of some inflated gambling debts, so once we tell him that Ironclad’s been handled, he’ll release my father, turn in Mikey and Tony, and Matt will finally be free.”
Her eyes light up, but then she tilts her head sideways. “What’s the catch?”
“It was only to hold up my end of the bargain. To… take care of Ironclad.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” And then to send her away while I work for Don Bordono, but she doesn’t need to know that yet.
Yanking her hand away, she scowls. “It still doesn’t make up for what you did.”
“Seneca. I’m going to tell you something, and whether you believe it or not, it’s the truth. I never knew who your brother was. He never came up. He wasn’t connected to Don Bordono in any way.”
“You could have—”
“What, Seneca? What could I have done? Asked for ID and a history of every person when I walked into that room? Yes, I noticed him. And he was young, yes. But I went in there to do a job, and Matt happened to be there. I know you’ll hate me for this, but Sen, he’s not innocent.”
She moves to speak, but I put up my hand.
“No, he didn’t deserve what happened to him, but he wasn’t just innocently walking down the street at the time. He was there. And he was high, in a drug den, in St. Mark’s Place. He knew the dealer, and he knew Mikey and Tony. I thought he was in with them. When the hit went bad, I was worried about myself—yes. I was worried that I had been framed. I was worried that my father was in too deep. That I’d never be able to work off his debt. And after, I was pissed that those two assholes, Mikey and Tony, were the reason I went to jail.” Taking a deep breath, I continue. “I think about your brother every day of my life. But at that moment, when my world was blowing up, I’m sorry, but I wasn’t worried about him. To me, he was nothing more than some other random drug addict who was in with Mikey and Tony. I took care of myself. And you can’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing.”
“I wouldn’t have.”
“Oh, really? And how many men did you maim today? Tear an earlobe? Stab with a knife? How many have you? How manywouldyou?”
“That’s different.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because…”
