Page 7 of Bad Blood

“Mom’s not going to let this go, either. If we can see the good in him, so can you.”

“You know what he is, right?” I swing back around, fighting to keep my cool. “Those scars on his chest aren’t just tattoos, Ella. When he does wrong, he doesn’t just shrug his shoulders and learn his lesson. Heisthe lesson... I suggest you make your assignment all about blood-thirsty Colombian dictators. You have a ton of research already. Twenty-one years, to be exact.”

Her face pales. “Drop it, Thals.”

“Never going to happen.”

Chapter Three

Thalia

I crossthe hallway to my bedroom under a cloud of black thoughts. Most days, I feel like I’m punching underwater, though what or whom I’m punching is usually up for debate.

Today, I have a face and a name.

Marco Bardi.

He’s a small-time mafiosi from Canal Street with an even smaller dick—better known as my latest battle, and the man on the cusp of my older sister’s ruin. He’s also blowing up my cell as I slam my bedroom door shut, his slimeball aura seeping into my life again.

“How much?” he demands as soon as the call connects.

“Forty-thousand.” I scoop out the wads of crumpled dollars from my purse and toss them onto the bed. The notes scatter, tainting the crisp, white sheets with a dirty green.

“Not enough,” he states bluntly.

My teeth slash bloody lines into my lower lip. When all of this is over, I’m giving his name, address, and social security number to Edier. After that, Marco Bardi will never see another sunset again.

“I need more time. Too many of the casinos in Pennsylvania are Santiago-associated. I’m running out of—”

“Not possible. Try another state.”

Damn the assholes who revoked New York’s gambling laws five years ago.

“My father’s security is all over me! I can’t travel to Massachusetts—”

“There’s an obvious answer, bitch.” He chuckles, but it’s an unclean, hostile shock of a sound, like finding unwanted grit in my favorite clam chowder. “Are you going to say it, or should I?”

Shit.

“How are you going to get your fifty-thousand if I get my throat slit?” I say desperately.

“Don’t get cute with me, Thalia Santiago. All I need to do is to press that button and Pornhub gets super juicy.”

Panic fills my mouth. “Okay, wait!”Don’t say it. Don’t say it.“Fine. Atlantic City, it is then. As long as I'm there and back in one evening, Bardi.”

There’s a long pause. Even Marco the super creep knows I’m playing fast and loose with my life by venturing into a rival cartel territory controlled by Valentin Carrera and his son.

Is he having second thoughts?

“Do you want your money, or not?” I say, now forcing this decision down his throat as much as I’m forcing it down mine. “I’m all out of options. Atlantic Cityis the gambling mecca of the East Coast.”

One chance to win all the money I need.

One night to save my sister’s reputation.

Everyone falls, and Bardi was the high cliff edge that Ella never saw coming.

It’s my fault. Imadeher join me in that bar last June where he bought her drinks all evening. I wouldn’t let up at her. I’d practically dragged her there in her nightgown.