not wanting to know what’s in that folder.
“Open it, Lexi,” he gruffly demands.
“No, I don't want to know what's in there.”
“You need to know,” he says matter-of-factly. “This will help you see things in a different light.” My hands grasp the sheets and twist them, refusing to touch the file .
“No?” He arches an eyebrow. “Well then, let me help you.” I watch his deft fingers as they unfold the metal clasp, and then he tips the envelope upside down, pouring out its contents onto the bed. There are pictures, lots of pictures.
“You remember about a month or so ago you went shooting with Connor, right?” He’s not asking a question; he’s being a smart ass, reminding me how my prints got on the murder weapon and of his recent threats. I feel the anxiety rising in my chest as I have a pretty good idea what he’s planning on showing me.
“Vince, stop,” I quietly plead. “I don’t want to see.”
“Oh, but I think you do,” he says in a mocking tone. “I think you forgot how much power and pull I have. I think you’ve lost sight of reality out on those trails.” His fingers land on the corner of a picture half covered up by other pictures, and all I see is blonde hair. He slowly pulls it out of the pile, the other pictures dropping away in slow motion. I turn my head the other way before the photograph is fully revealed.
“I don't know why you insist I show you just how ruthless I can be in order to get what I want. Have you forgotten how I grew up, Lexi? Have you forgotten what our families do and what we're all about? You are a mafia princess. You need to come to terms with that, and then embrace it for what it is.”
“No,” I whisper-cry, and shove the photos off my lap, sending them flying. I sneer, glaring at him, “I don’t want to see your dirty work.”
His lips turn into a sly smirk. “You always did like to live in your own fantasy world, didn’t you?” He holds the picture up in front of me, tapping his index finger on the edge of the photo. I look away again, but this time he’s more forceful and grabs my cheeks, turning my head with vigor. I whimper and squeeze my eyes tightly together, refusing to look.
“Open your fucking eyes, or there will be consequences,” he threatens, and by the tone of his voice, he’s lost his patience. My heart hammers in my chest and my pulse quickens. I clench my hands into fists as I slowly open my eyes. In the same second I open my eyes, I lose my breath, and all the color drains from my face.
The picture he's holding up before me is horrendous. It’s Myles' girlfriend, or should I say was. I was in love with Myles, and Vince destroyed that relationship too. Vince wasn’t bluffing when he said he framed me. This is for real. It’s the jealous girlfriend scenario Vince created, being able to get my fingerprints all over the murder weapon.
She has a bullet hole right through the middle of her forehead. Dried blood paints her face in a horrific pattern of death. My stomach lurches, and I know I'm going to be sick. I gag, and my hand covers my mouth in response as I try to stop whatever’s in my stomach from surfacing.
“Did you think I was kidding, Lexi?” his voice is hard and cold. “Did you not think I would follow through with my threats? Now, do you understand that when I mean business, I’m not fucking around? No matter how hard you try, you can't white-wash our lives, who we are, who are families are.” He’s having a conversation with himself, because at this point, I don't hear him. All I can think of is this poor girl, and all the evil she experienced before her death. She had a life, a family, and he had no right to strip her of that.
“Oh, my God,” I cry out. I close my eyes, and all I see behind my eyelids is her blood, and it is everywhere. I lean over the side of the bed and gag again. I know what’s coming next, as does Vince.
“God dammit,” he curses. He jumps off the side of the
“Open it, Lexi,” he gruffly demands.
“No, I don't want to know what's in there.”
“You need to know,” he says matter-of-factly. “This will help you see things in a different light.” My hands grasp the sheets and twist them, refusing to touch the file .
“No?” He arches an eyebrow. “Well then, let me help you.” I watch his deft fingers as they unfold the metal clasp, and then he tips the envelope upside down, pouring out its contents onto the bed. There are pictures, lots of pictures.
“You remember about a month or so ago you went shooting with Connor, right?” He’s not asking a question; he’s being a smart ass, reminding me how my prints got on the murder weapon and of his recent threats. I feel the anxiety rising in my chest as I have a pretty good idea what he’s planning on showing me.
“Vince, stop,” I quietly plead. “I don’t want to see.”
“Oh, but I think you do,” he says in a mocking tone. “I think you forgot how much power and pull I have. I think you’ve lost sight of reality out on those trails.” His fingers land on the corner of a picture half covered up by other pictures, and all I see is blonde hair. He slowly pulls it out of the pile, the other pictures dropping away in slow motion. I turn my head the other way before the photograph is fully revealed.
“I don't know why you insist I show you just how ruthless I can be in order to get what I want. Have you forgotten how I grew up, Lexi? Have you forgotten what our families do and what we're all about? You are a mafia princess. You need to come to terms with that, and then embrace it for what it is.”
“No,” I whisper-cry, and shove the photos off my lap, sending them flying. I sneer, glaring at him, “I don’t want to see your dirty work.”
His lips turn into a sly smirk. “You always did like to live in your own fantasy world, didn’t you?” He holds the picture up in front of me, tapping his index finger on the edge of the photo. I look away again, but this time he’s more forceful and grabs my cheeks, turning my head with vigor. I whimper and squeeze my eyes tightly together, refusing to look.
“Open your fucking eyes, or there will be consequences,” he threatens, and by the tone of his voice, he’s lost his patience. My heart hammers in my chest and my pulse quickens. I clench my hands into fists as I slowly open my eyes. In the same second I open my eyes, I lose my breath, and all the color drains from my face.
The picture he's holding up before me is horrendous. It’s Myles' girlfriend, or should I say was. I was in love with Myles, and Vince destroyed that relationship too. Vince wasn’t bluffing when he said he framed me. This is for real. It’s the jealous girlfriend scenario Vince created, being able to get my fingerprints all over the murder weapon.
She has a bullet hole right through the middle of her forehead. Dried blood paints her face in a horrific pattern of death. My stomach lurches, and I know I'm going to be sick. I gag, and my hand covers my mouth in response as I try to stop whatever’s in my stomach from surfacing.
“Did you think I was kidding, Lexi?” his voice is hard and cold. “Did you not think I would follow through with my threats? Now, do you understand that when I mean business, I’m not fucking around? No matter how hard you try, you can't white-wash our lives, who we are, who are families are.” He’s having a conversation with himself, because at this point, I don't hear him. All I can think of is this poor girl, and all the evil she experienced before her death. She had a life, a family, and he had no right to strip her of that.
“Oh, my God,” I cry out. I close my eyes, and all I see behind my eyelids is her blood, and it is everywhere. I lean over the side of the bed and gag again. I know what’s coming next, as does Vince.
“God dammit,” he curses. He jumps off the side of the
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