She runs straight into me like a gift from the fucking heavens.
I pull her close, wrapping my arms tight around her. “Baby girl, I got you.” I breathe out a sigh full of relief, my lips pressed against her hair as she buries her face into my chest.
“M-Max,” she gasps, her heart hammering against my chest.
Dante steps toward the open doorway, gun drawn.
“He’s at the bottom of the stairs,” Joey says. “He’s injured and I don’t think he’s armed. But be careful.”
A smile creeps over her brother’s face as he looks through the open doorway and puts his gun back in the waistband of his pants. “You did this, kid?” he asks proudly.
“Of course,” she sniffs.
The sunlight illuminates Viktor Pushkin as he pushes himself to his knees, a kitchen knife sticking out of his side. He goes to pull it out, but Dante stops him, dragging him to his feet and pinning his arms behind his back. If Viktor pulls that knife out now, he’ll likely bleed to death on the way home. That would be a death far more merciful than he deserves. Dante pushes him into the parking lot, and Viktor blinks at the bright glare of the sun, screaming Russian curses.
Joey takes a deep breath and wrenches herself from my arms. Before I can pull her back, she launches herself at Viktor, raking her nails down his face. “You evil, disgusting piece of shit!”
Dante holds onto him, keeping his arms firmly behind his back.
“Let him go so I can kick his ass,” she rages. “Let him fucking go.”
Her brother shakes his head. “Calm down, kid.”
She turns her wrath on him. “Don’t fucking tell me to calm down. Let him the fuck go and let me kill him, Dante.”
Dante shoots me a look and I step in, wrapping my arms around her. Fury pulses through her body and she kicks out, still trying to get to him.
I hug her tighter. “You can kill him later, Joey.”
She snarls, wrestling to free herself from my arms.
I press my mouth against her ear. “Slowly. Painfully. But right now, we need to get out of here.”
Immediately she stops struggling, appeased by my promise.
Dante laughs as he secures Viktor’s hands. “Yeah, you can kill him later, kid.” He shoves a rag soaked with fast-acting sedative into the prisoner’s mouth. Within seconds, Viktor slumps over.
Only when he passes out do I let her go, allowing her to walk away from me. I want to carry her out of here, take her to some faraway fortress where nobody will even get to look at my Mafia princess ever again. With a sigh, I shake my head. That will never happen. She’s Joey Moretti, the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.
Dante and I haul Viktor into the trunk, and we’re about to climb into the car when Joey speaks, hands on her hips. “You know it’s about time you all started treating the women in this family with some fucking respect.”
Dante has his hand on the car door, holding it open, and I see the instant shift in his mood. “Get in the car.”
“If you’d just told me about your little scheme, I could have been prepared. Maybe I would’ve …”
“Get in the fucking car, Joey.”
She folds her arms over her chest. “Not until you admit that you treat me like an idiot just because I’m a girl. You know I’m right. If you’d told me about the stupid pact between Pushkin and our father, this all could have been prevented.”
Tension ripples through the parking lot like the aftershock of an earthquake. Joey keeps glaring at Dante with her arms folded. His hand stays on the door handle.
I glower at him. Just get in the car, D.
He doesn’t. He shuts the door with a soft, deliberate click and turns to face her. “You were eighteen years old.”
“I deserved to know. You had no right to keep that from me.”
“We did what we had to do,” he insists.
“No, you did what was easy for you. Anything to avoid dealing with the fact that I might have an opinion about my own fucking life.”
“You were just a kid,” he says, the vein in his temple throbbing.
“I wasn’t a kid! And you had no right to make decisions about my life without consulting me.”
He scoffs. “Like you would have listened to anything Lorenzo or I had to say?”
“You didn’t give me a fucking choice,” she shrieks.
“We gave you plenty of chances to prove you could be trusted, Joey, and you threw every single one back in our faces.”
“Bullshit!”
“You constantly whined and pouted because your mean big brothers wouldn’t let you do whatever the fuck you wanted. But how many times did Max have to haul your ass home after you snuck out to some party? How many fucking times did I have to clean you up after you got wasted on vodka and weed?”
She balls her hands into fists, clenching them at her sides as she rocks on the balls of her feet. “I had to do those things because the two of you would never let me out of the goddamn house.”
“Because our own fucking father wanted to marry you off to a Russian psychopath, Joey,” he screams at her.
“And you should have fucking told me,” she yells louder, and I run a hand over my face. This argument has been a long time coming, but I wish they were having it elsewhere. “You should have consulted me.”
“I couldn’t consult you Joey, you were …”
“I was what?”
His jaw ticks. He shakes his head. “Get in the car.”
“I was what, Dante?” she demands. “At least be man enough to say it to my face.”
Don’t say it, D.
“You were a spoiled little bitch!” he snaps.
She steps back as though he slapped her in the face. Looking devastated, he scrubs a hand over his face and sighs.
“That’s why you sent me away? Not to protect me, but to make your life easier?” The pain in her voice makes my chest ache.
“No, Joey. We sent you away to protect you,” he insists.
“Don’t fucking lie to me. No more lies. I’m sick of them,” she screeches.
All I can do is stand back and let her vent some of the rage she’s bottled up inside for years. She has so much pent-up frustration inside her, and it has to come out sometime. I tried to fuck it all out of her, but I obviously missed some.
Dante steps forward. “It’s the truth, Guiseppina.”
“No, it’s bullshit! You sent me away because it was easier for you all. Admit it, Dante. You wanted me out of your hair.”
“Why would I want that, Joey? You’re my kid sister.”
“You just said I was a spoiled little bitch.”
“You were, but that’s not …”
My girl doesn’t let him finish what he’s saying. Instead, she pulls back her arm and punches him in the jaw. Gaping at her, he staggers back.
He rubs a hand over his chin and glares at her, and fuck me if she doesn’t gear up to clock him again.
Looks like it’s time to step in. He’d never hit her, but he might defend himself if she punches him again, and if he touches her—well, then he and I would come to blows. I grab hold of her, and she lashes out at me too, but this time there’s no getting away from me. I carry her around to the other side of the car, locking my arms around her like a cage when I set her down.
Her eyes shoot daggers at me. “I hate you all.”
“I know, baby girl. Now get in the damn car.”
