End Game (26 page)

You have to run. He
’
s going to
—

No, I can’t accept it. I can’t. I haven’t worked so hard for all of it to come to this. My chest strains for air as if I’m already dying. One by one, he pins my arms and legs, wrapping tape around them so tightly that I can’t move. The tape constricts my skin and my hands swell with redness.

“JOE!”

Dead, haunted eyes finally flick towards me. I feel his soul tremble. He looks absolutely destroyed. Devastated. There’s no lightness in his face. Did all of his victims see this before he murdered them? He touches my face and I try not to flinch from the cold. His face leans in close enough so that I feel his frantic breaths billowing over my face. He’s just as close to losing it as I am. Heat rushes into my skin when he kisses my jaw softly, his hands shaking. The breaths come in and out more and more frantically. Finally, his lips brush against mine and he grabs the back of my head, kissing me as if it’s the last time. I don’t feel any of it, just a cold horror.

Joe pulls away, his eyes wet as he takes the gun strapped to his ankle and points it directly at me. It shakes.

My heart breaks. It’s as if he already shot me.

“I’m—I’m sorry. You were—”

“—
Nothing
. I’m nothing to you.”

He’s already referring to me in past tense. In his mind, I’m
already dead
. He ripped my heart out and stamped on it. Fucked me and now he’s going to kill me. What a
sick
bastard. He just had to have one more go with my body. No, he never gave a
shit
about me.

The gun dips and then rises again. Joe wipes his face with his free hand. Even if he fired, the bullet might miss. His arm shakes so badly.

“That’s not true.”

I laugh at him. I’m so fucking numb, that I don’t care anymore. I don’t care. The tears running down my face annoy me. “You were going to fuck me and kill me. That’s all I was to you, wasn’t I? Just a great fuck who you could throw away when you needed to.”

“No!” The word sounds violent, strangled from his throat. “I’m in love with you.”

I can’t even laugh. It’s ridiculous, but it’s not funny.

“You’re sick in the head.”

His face screws up in pain, and he clutches his chest as if it actually hurts him. “I love you, but I can’t keep you safe. They want you dead. If I don’t do it, they will—and they’ll—it won’t be as fast.” Tears burn down his face.

It’s like an avalanche. My body is hit with huge blows, one after the other.

But Joe is showing even less resolve than ever. The gun trembles in his hands, moving up and down my body. He turns his head away as if he can’t even bear to look at what he’s about to do, which is end my life.

I’m going to die.

Then I cry. The strength I had to snap at him dissolves and I can only think about how shitty my life has been, and how little I accomplished while I was alive. Will my siblings even care? Jessica, maybe.

Chances are, they will never find my body.

My high gasp bounces off the ceiling. “Please, don’t do this!
I don
’
t want to die!
”

“I told you,” he says through his teeth, looking deranged. “Don’t expect anything from me. I’m not what you think I am.”

“You’re not a monster. That’s why you can’t do this. If you do, you’ll never be able to forgive yourself.”

“I know,” he says in a small voice.

I lean forward so that the tape cuts into my wrists. “Kill me, and you’re no different from that man who killed your sister.”

For a moment, rage thickens his features and the gun rises to my head. I want to squint and turn away, but I force myself to stare at him.

“You’re not my sister. You’re not exactly innocent, Marisa.”

“Fuck you. What the fuck did I ever do to deserve this?”

“They know about the sale, Marisa.”

Anxiety shoots through my chest. “Sale? What sale?”

“Worlds Casino. You met with your board members and made the sale to Lences Holdings.”

That is what this is all about? Fury explodes in my voice. “And how the fuck was I able to do that with you watching me day and night?”

He wants to kill me. He has to kill me.

But he can’t.

The gun drops away and he slams it on the table. “You called them while I was gone.”

“Why don’t you fucking ask your friend outside if I made any phone calls before you blow my head open? Or better yet, check my phone. See if I’ve made any phone calls in the last week.”

He glares at me suspiciously as he disappears for a moment to get my phone. He cycles through the list and his face softens. The phone hangs limply in his hand as he stares at me. All the energy seems to drain out of him. His hand clenches the head of a chair as a look of dawning comprehension falls on his face. “Oh,
Maddon
.”

The chair topples to the floor, but he ignores it. He grabs his hair in his fists and makes an unhinged sound, his eyes white all around.

I have no fucking idea what’s happening anymore.

“What is going on?”

“Your brother—your
fucking
brother.” He strides to the kitchen counter and grabs something that looks like a knife.

I struggle in my restraints as he comes closer, convinced that he’s going to sink the blade in my stomach. He sinks down to his knees, his expression pained, and he quickly snips through the restraints.

Have I been granted a reprieve?

Tears flood down my face and Joe takes me in his arms, nearly crushing me to death as he clutches me to his chest. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he cries.

He made me think that I was going to die. Joe is red-faced and ashamed, but I can barely make him out. Tears blur everything together. “I—I can’t—”

“We need to go,” he says urgently. “I think I know what happened, but I need proof from your brother.”

The relief from being granted a reprieve from death still has me breathless. I can’t think of anything else, except how glad I am to be alive. “Proof?”

I’m still swimming in tears, the sting of his betrayal buried deep inside me.

Now
’
s not the time.

He kisses my stunned face. “Yeah. I think everything will be okay.”

* * *

Family. They’re important, right? They’re supposed to be there for you, stick up for you, bail you out of jail, care for you when you’re sick, and all that jazz. Maybe it’s cause I’m Italian, but I always put so much stock into family. Blood’s thicker than water. Family, family, family. It was practically beaten into my head as a kid. Ironic, considering my parents divorced. People who knew us thought we were the picture-perfect family. Such happy kids. Then Mom left, and we were alone for a while. The image wasn’t as perfect. Nathan had one less person to keep him in check.

My brother really doesn’t live that far away. We drive there in silence as I nervously count down the minutes. Even though I know my life is depending on it, I hope he’s wrong. I hope both my siblings didn’t go behind my back to sell the company. We’re a family. We weren’t supposed to be like this.

Lately, though, it seems like my father was the glue holding all of us together. Makes perfect sense, really. The moment he died, it all fell apart. The stitches holding us together were never that strong, but this is so much worse.

He parks in front of Nathan’s brownstone and I get out, looking up at the intimidating architecture as if my brother stands over me. Joe’s presence creeps up behind me and his palm runs up my back. I can’t fucking bear his touch.

I cross my arms and move out of the sphere of his arms.

Fuck him.

Murdering psychopath.

“Do you think he’s home?”

It’s late in the evening and I know Nathan usually goes out to eat, but there are lights on in the house. All the fucking lies, the backstabbing, the betrayal—I’m sick of it. Sick of
him.
I’ve accepted it now before I’ve even spoken to him. Nathan did this. Of course he did.

My fist slams on the door. The door rattles as I reach up high and pound the motherfucker, imagining Nathan and Joe’s faces. He takes my shoulders and pulls me back.

“Easy, killer. You’re going to tip him off.”

I send him a withering look and he has the grace to look ashamed. He does not get to use pet names for me or be sweet. He does not get to pretend like he just didn’t try to kill me. The door cracks open and a sliver of Nathan shows through the door.

“Marisa. I’m afraid I’m occupied at the moment—”

Joe motions me to step back and then he slams his body into the door, the flimsy chain holding the door closing breaking off. Nathan yells in outrage as Joe flies into the foyer and grabs his neck, slamming my brother’s head into the wall. Heart pounding, I step inside and shut the door.

“Shut the fuck up,” Joe hisses.

Nathan’s apartment is an upscale place, filled with the most pretentious furniture you could imagine. Antique desks and vases, a long, white slab for a couch, and prints hung on the walls that he thought could probably pass as real paintings. It’s all too deliberately color-coded, as if he expected someone to walk into his apartment at any moment and critique it. There are no personal effects. No photographs save for a small one of Dad in the living room. Just to keep up appearances.

He snarls at me as Joe grinds his face into the wall. I walk close enough to smell his toothpaste-scented breath.

“You convened with the board behind my back to sell the company. We both know that that’s illegal. Did you really think that would work?”

“Get this fucking meathead off of me!”

“Not until you admit it!”

He breathes through his nostrils like a bull snorting. Blue eyes cut into me, the irises like the white-blue flame of a hot fire. “Yeah, I fucking did it. Only, it wasn’t illegal.
You
’
re out
.”

Joe pulls him off the wall and marches him into the living room, throwing him onto the couch. He stands up, but Joe forces him back down. Nathan gives me a look filled with livid fear.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to gain by being here—”

“What did you mean?” My voice grows louder. “What do you mean, I’m out?”

A jackal-like smile spreads over his lips. He sits up straight, gripping the edge of the couch. “You were voted out.”

A violent flush fills my cheeks as Nathan gloats with that sickening smile. They voted me out?

“Don’t look so surprised. You haven’t been living up to the boards’ expectations, and choosing to skip out on work all week didn’t do you any favors.”

His words cut deep into my soul. The ice-blue eyes follow me as I sit down on one of the horribly uncomfortable chairs. Joe’s face creases in sympathy and he makes a sudden movement, as if he wants to come to my side, but instead he grabs Nathan’s shoulder and squeezes.

“That’s complete bullshit. My associate has attended board meetings—”

“Oh, you mean Vincent? Yeah, the board took to him very well. Especially when everybody knows who he’s associated with.”

Joe’s swift fist comes out of nowhere, plying against Nathan’s face. He drops down to the floor and moans in pain.

“Joe, please. You got your confession. Can we leave, now?”

“No, because it’s all a lie.”

“It’s not a fucking lie!” he screams from the floor.

Joe shuts him up with a sudden kick to his stomach. His face reddens like a tomato and he makes a hideous sound.

Jesus, I can’t watch this. He’s still my brother—I don’t feel a shred of satisfaction from watching him scream in pain. Especially when it was all my fault to begin with.

“Tell me the fucking truth! What deal did you cut with Jamie?”

“That man is a better businessman than you Vittorio fuck-ups. He didn’t have to beat me to get me involved. Fuck you!” He cringes as Joe aims another steel-toed boot towards his gut.

“Nathan, don’t you realize what you’ve done? Dad was involved with the Vittorios. He got mixed up with the wrong people. I was almost killed because of the sale. It won’t go through.
It can
’
t
.”

Nathan looks up at me, unconcerned by the hysteria in my voice. “Jessica and I wanted out. Jamie gave me a pretty good deal, so I took it. I don’t give a shit what happens to you.”

The last piece of clinging hope drops away, quickly eaten by flames. Jessica might have just been a casualty. “Fine, you hate me, but what about your other sister? She has no idea what’s going on, does she?”

He smiles, and this time I feel a small thrill of triumph when Joe seizes him upright and smashes his fist against his face. Nathan’s nose breaks and blood pours out of his nose. He screams and holds his hand to himself, trying to stem the flow of blood.

I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want to look at his face for one more second. I turn my back on the two men struggling together.

“Marisa, where the fuck are you going?”

My feet hardly make a sound as I leave my brother’s apartment and walk outside. I sit down on the stairs of his brownstone, trying to escape the pain of his vicious words. There is a ringing of truth to them, which makes it all the more worse. I wasn’t good enough to be President. Dad made a mistake.

Who the fuck cares about Dad?

I jump at the sound of the door closing and feel a pair of footsteps jogging down the steps. He sits down beside me, his warmth no longer a comfort. All it does is remind me of how fucked up my life is.

“We should go before he calls the cops.”

His hands are smeared with blood, his knuckles slightly swollen from beating the shit out of my brother.

“I can’t believe they voted me out. I tried so hard.”

“Marisa, I don’t think he told us the whole story. There’s more to it than that.”

I stand up quickly. Right now, I can’t stomach any kind of reassurance from a man who only hours ago, tried to put a bullet in my head. “Take me to my apartment.”

His face darkens. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I want to go
home.
”