Page 56 of Her Guardian
“Want to wait until they are done with that part?” I offer.
“Um… no, I’ll manage,” she answers, swallowing hard.
We’re not allowed in the bedroom, but we are able to get a good look from the door. Miguel Moreno is in his bed. There’s a sheet over him that is stained with blood. Based on the amount of blood and the location of the wound, it looks like the killer used a knife again.
Then I look at the wall and tremors of concern shoot through me.
“My work continues. Sin City is so much fun. This time, it’s double or nothing,” Sarah reads aloud.
“There’s been another murder!” a detective calls out.
“Double or nothing…” Sarah says, glancing up at me. “Two in the same night?”
“Fucking hell.” I shake my head. “Come on.”
Things just went from bad to worse. I get a text message when we get to the car, but it isn’t about the latest murder, so I text Massimo to let him know what I heard. I get a reply almost immediately letting me know who the victim is.
“We won’t be going to the next crime scene,” I say.
“Why?” Sarah asks.
“Because apparently we can’t figure out where the fucking Bratva is, but the Mafia Prince Killer can,” I say, turning over the ignition and lighting a cigarette. “Less than a dozen guys, but the fucker still found them. Same shit, too. He killed the oldest son.”
“That means he’s killed three people in two days,” Sarah says. “If he only kills five like he has previously, then he could be done in Las Vegas in a couple more days.”
“Yeah,” I rumble, taking a drag from my cigarette and flicking ashes out the window. “You know anything that could help? You know more about this fucker than any of us.”
“If I did, I would have already told you about it,” she sighs. “He’s never struck twice in one night. The nerve agent has never killedanyone. I mean, that could be a bad reaction to it, but it’s still different.”
I glance at my phone as another message blinks on the screen. “Massimo is sending some guys to clean up what is left of the Bratva,” I mutter. “Looks like I’m going with them. I need to drop you off at the hotel.”
“By clean up, you mean…” Sarah trails off.
“You know exactly what it means,” I say.
They’re wounded and mourning, but I don’t give a fuck. There’s no way we’re going to give them an inch in Las Vegas, much less a foothold. A dozen guys is twelve too many when it comes to them. Erica may have been the mastermind behind the murder of Massimo’s first wife, but the Bratva were still part of it. They also kidnapped my sister and were responsible for her death, even if they didn’t pull the trigger when the gun was in her mouth.
Sarah doesn’t say much on the way back to Salvalagio. I’m not sure if it’s because of the bloody crime scene I dragged her to, the news about the Mafia Prince Killer striking twice in one night, or what I said about the Bratva. At the end of the day, I’ve got more blood on my hands than the Mafia Prince Killer will ever have on his, and they’re about to get bloodier.
“Please be careful,” Sarah says when I turn into the parking lot. “If something happens to you…”
I turn to her after I park the SUV and see tears in the corners of her eyes. It’s not about what I’m about to do. She’s scared. I put my hand on hers and pat it reassuringly.
“Hey, hey, don’t worry about me,” I say, trying to keep my voice low. “This is what I do. I’m good at it. Besides, do you think a bullet or two will stop me?”
Sarah blinks away her tears. “I’d prefer if that was a question I never had to consider.”
“Look, I get it, but this is my job. This is what I do.” I squeeze her hand and pat it again. “Las Vegas will be a lot safer without the Bratva. You know what they’ve done—what they almost did during Erica’s coup.”
“Yeah, and I get going after them,” she relents. “But I can’t help being worried.”
“It’s twelve guys. I could probably handle it myself,” I say sarcastically. “But I won’t be alone. I’ll have my crew, and Massimo’s sending some of his best. It’ll be over before you know it, and then we’ll continue looking for this Mafia Prince Killer fucker. Go inside, do your podcast, and I’ll try to get a look at the wall while I’m taking care of business.”
“I’m not really in the mood to do a podcast,” she mutters, wiping her eyes.
Damn. She cares more about me than her podcast. I really have made her mine. And I’m hers. Which means I need to come back to her, because I won’t rest peacefully if I’m the reason those pretty blue eyes lose their shine.
“Then do it for me,” I say, looking down. “I like listening to your lovely voice while I’m driving around. I did it all day yesterday.”
