Page 96 of The Boss

“Quinn, that’s…”

“One of a million fucked up stories just like it in the mafia. Dons go insane with power and then they get obsessed with their heir. Get more and more paranoid. They’re all sadistic assholes, every one.”

“Your father? But every night, Sheila said you hand feed him—”

“Poison. I have been poisoning him little by little, day by day.” Her mouth falls open again, then she shuts it. She stares at the supplies. “Antibiotic injection dart, now. Outer thigh, midway up.” I smirk. “Hey, you finally get to stab me.” She does, swiftly jabbing the needle into my leg. I chuckle, “Feel better?”

“Marginally. Keep talking.”

“Spray that now, but don’t let me pass out.” She holds up the bottle and studies it. I explain, “It's a top-secret military-grade spray bandage solution. It’s going to sting like a motherfucker so keep me upright.”

“Right. Okay. Talk through it.”

“K. So, after he died…Brian died, I was a mess.”

“You were achild.”She says, passionate, defensive. For me. Because she loves me.

Maybe she won’t use this against me.

Maybe she won’t immediately find a way to get this information to her father or Volotov or the highest bidder.

Maybe pigs are flying around outside, you moron.

No going back now. I keep talking, scared shitless and hoping she doesn’t notice. “My father, the man I consider my father, found me soon after. I was weeping in a damn ditch. Hiding. Couldn’t stop crying. He knew exactly what I wanted.”

“Revenge,” she says. Of course she understands. My wife. My perfect match if ever there was one. Sorry luck for both of us.

“Shit!” I hiss, because the spray is like fire.

“Don’t be a crybaby. Go on.”

I would laugh if I wasn’t burning alive on my left side right now.

“Yes. Revenge. He’s taken in many of us with that promise. A small few as adopted sons and daughters. Who knows how many as operatives.”

“Operatives?”

“Bandages now,” I instruct. She’s frozen, her mid reeling, I’m sure. I keep my mouth closed until she gets the gauze on. “We’re a shadow organization. Soldiers and spies everywhere. Feds, cops, governments…”

“And the mafia,” she finishes for me again, softer now.

“Yes.”

“So, when you say revenge, what does that mean?”

I inhale and exhale. “Oxy now. Just one unless you want to knock me out.” She pours three pills out, of course, stares at them, then extends me one. I start to take the pill from her hand but she pulls back.

“What does that mean?” She repeats.

“Mutually assured destruction. All the syndicates will go down.” I watch the color drain from her face again. Watch the light burn in her eyes. “All the dirty cops and corrupt officials, too. Everyone.”

“But…that’s your family. Your men you’re talking about!” She’s so gorgeous when she’s angry. Or scheming. Or sleeping or coming. So, all the time.

I stand, “I have a few more minutes before that pill wipes me out for a couple hours.”

“Then start talking! You’re going to kill all your own men?”

I wince. I lift my left arm, wordlessly asking for her help. Clenching her jaw, she obliges and tucks herself under me for support. We head to the bedroom.