Page 23

Story: Bad Behavior

What the fuck is going on?

The other man's voice grew loud, his words unmistakable. “She should be dead by now! After what she's seen, Dante, you thought it was a bright fucking idea to bring her here?”

They weren't just discussing business. It was about me.

Shivering to his statement, my eyes snapped shut. I wasn't doing to die, I wasn't going to let that happen.

But how am I going to stop it?

Dante was talking but I couldn't make out what he was saying. The other guy wasn't trying to hide his intentions, and he was sure as hell making his point.

“If Tony wanted her, you should have let him. She means nothing to us, Dante, who the fuck cares about some whore? You violated my orders, she was supposed to stay there. Not here, not in our home, not anywhere someone might find her. This isour safe house,not hers.”

Their voices were growing in volume, the stairs creaking and cracking as pressure came down on them. Each step of their feet caused the lump in my throat to jump. Swallowing thickly, I forced myself to breathe the closer they got.

That was all I could do. I couldn't hide in some corner, bury my head, and pretend I was someplace else.

This was real.

Dante must have stopped somewhere in the man's way. “Get out of my way, Dante.”

“No, you wanted this deal, so we'll do it, we still can.”

“No, we can't. She's seen too much. She's seen you and what you did. She's a loose end, she needs to go, end of discussion.”

“Dad, we don't need to.”

Shit. His father.

Bane

Bane Pisani was the cream of the crop, he was the man who ran it all. It was his word that would create the ending to my story. And his reputation wasn't all candy and pink ribbons.

I only knew from Remo a little bit about this man. And none of what I knew was good. They worked together and Remo always made it seem like he was what kept Bane going.

But Bane was a cold-hearted killer, no remorse, no compassion.

Fuck, I need to get out of here!

Frantically I yanked on the cuffs, hoping they would break away and crumble around my skin to set me free. But that was a wish I knew would never happen. Their feet crept closer, one step then two, till they were right outside the door.

“Move, Dante.”

I stared at the handle, waiting. The knob turned in slow motion, door creeping open. My eyes expanded, body wiggling without me consciously trying. Feverishly I yanked down on the cuffs, small whimpers escaping my lips as I tried to break their grasp.

But I couldn't do anything to snap the metal. I was completely stuck, no way to run, no place to hide. I was a sitting duck laying in the middle of that bed, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Bane stepped inside, his face stone still. He stared at me from a distance, stepping gingerly over the floor till he was right beside me, hovering with a dark presence. “Ivy, do you know who I am?”

I didn't want to speak, I couldn't. Shaking my head, I curled my body up to make it as small as possible. His eyes were inky black, bleeding into red veins that popped against what white I could see.

His head was shaved bare, a thin trickle of a mustache crested his upper lip. Bane was dressed in a charcoal colored suit, with a bright red handkerchief peeking out of the left breast pocket.

As nervous as I was, I couldn't help but find it comical how well-groomed these gangsters were. Were suits a requirement for the job? They must all have closets full, one for each day.

It was ironic in a way. To be so well dressed when you're going in to spill blood. Most men dressed like that would do anything to dodge a fucking splash of wine, but these guys were ready to blow you away with one click.

And I was sure they didn't even have to think about it.