Page 98 of Massacre

“Should be easy for him.” Lorenzo snickered. “Gotta say, Dwayne, always knew you’d end up behind bars.”

“Fuck off, Lo,” I sneered. “Why the fuck are you here? More importantly, who called in the big guns?”

“Oh, that was Reaper.” Reggie chuckled. “He needed something to keep the sheriff occupied while he figured out a way to save your ass, ’cause he plans on killing you himself.”

I groaned just as another familiar face walked in.

Yep.

Worst. Family. Reunion. EVER!

“You!” Uncle Brian pointed at the newcomer. “You told me you had a handle on him. Did you lie to me?”

Braesal O’Malley, the head of the Irish Mob and older brother to Declan, stopped and glared as the man in question piped up, “That right, Sal?” Declan growled. “You have me handled?”

Sal bristled and his jaw twitched as he squared his shoulders. “Everyone in this room knows you’re like holding a wolf by the ears, Declan. Sooner or later, you’re gonna get bit.”

Uncle Brian’s glare sharpened, and his icy blue eyes flickered between the brothers, tension building thick as concrete. I could practically taste the history crackling in the air—old grudges, debts paid in blood, and family bonds fraying at the edges.

The sheriff, still refusing to back down, cleared his throat. “If we’re done with this fuckingJerry Springerepisode, I’d like to get to the part where someone tells me what the hell is going on.” He shot me a withering look. “And you, Dwayne, better start talking fast.”

I glanced at Reggie, who shrugged as if to say, “You’re on your own, buddy.”

Giovanni was still against the wall, arms crossed, barely containing his impatience when he said, “Well, Dwayne? Are you gonna talk?”

That wasn’t a question.

It was a fucking dare.

I gritted my teeth and tried to think of a way out. One glance at Uncle Brian—face carved from marble, mouth set in a grim line—told me I held my life in my own hands when the door to the sheriff’s station opened, and Deputy Blackwater walked in with a beautiful redheaded woman with the brightest green eyes I’d ever seen. She was stunning, with a spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose. What worried me was the stern look on her face as she marched right over to Declan, holding a clear bag in front of his face. “What the hell is this?”

Taking the bag, Declan looked at and said, “What’s the problem, Beth?”

“I’ve been doing my job a long time, and in my time as a medical examiner, I’ve only ever seen a bullet like that once before. That .22 casing is marked. The victim’s name is on it. This was a hit.”

“Excuse me?” Dec said, taking a better look at the casing in the bag as Giovanni glared at me and Reggie whispered, “Tell me you didn’t.”

“Nope. It wasn’t me.”

“Dwayne,” my brother growled. “When he finds out, he’s going to beat your ass.”

“He won’t find out if you keep your mouth shut, Reggie.”

“She’s right, Sheriff,” Deputy Blackwater spoke up. “The casing is marked. The bullet that killed Mr. Scott was a .22, not a 9mm.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” Dec sneered as he looked over at me. “I don’t know what the hell kind of game you’re playing, but it fucking ends now. Get the fuck out of here and don’t come back.”

“I’m free to go?” I smiled happily, standing straight.

“Unless you want me to charge you with disturbing the peace, destruction of property, assault and a slew of other charges I can come up with?”

“Nope.” I grinned, rubbing my hands together. “Been nice visitin’ with ya, cuz. But I got a woman to go see.”

Growling, the sheriff clipped, “Not your cousin, asshole.”

“Love you too.” I smirked, before slapping my brother on the back. “Come on, Reggie. I wanna go see my woman.”

“And I’d like to meet my new daughter,” my mother said, linking her arm in Uncle Brian’s.