It took a few minutes to figure out why I had to put the dress on. Rolando only hit me in places where the bruises wouldn’t be seen. High up on my legs. My stomach and sides. My upper arms.
The beating felt like it took forever, and I was lost in agony.
* * *
Mal
I stalked into the room and extended the baton.
To the guy’s credit, he saw me. He didn’t freeze up. He stood and threw the plate, but it was too late. The plate missed and I brought the baton into his ribs with a deafening crack. He gasped in pain and clutched at himself. Scrambled to grab something from his waistband. I hit him again then shoved my hand down the back of his shirt until I found the gun. I pulled it out and tossed it aside.
The guy lay there, gasping for breath.
“Where is he?” I asked.
He looked up. Blinked a few times. “You’re Mal.”
“Where’s Clem?”
He coughed. Struggled for breath. I broke his ribs right into his lungs. He needed a doctor or else he’d die.
“Upstairs. You did that to him, didn’t you?”
“Could do it to you, too.”
“I know.” He wheezed. The fear in his eyes was almost heartbreaking. Poor bastard. “Please don’t.”
I should’ve killed him. Ended him right then and there. But there was something about the scene. The plate of food, the old sitcom rerun. His thinning hair. I saw myself in him. Not exactly him, but a version. My future, if I stayed in this. Old, used up. I could see it happening.
“If you move, I’ll kill you.” I grabbed the gun and shoved it in my pants. “Which room?”
“Door at the end. He’s got a gun.”
I nodded and walked up the steps. Left him there. Figured he’d run as soon as I was out of sight.
I reached the top of the steps and sure enough, I heard the front door open.
Let the bastard go. He could tell Balestra is was me. He already knew.
I walked to the door in the back, went to open it up, and a gunshot blasted a hole two inches to the left of my head.
* * *
Capri
He stepped back and stared at me, weighing the sap in both hands. I stayed there, unmoving. He was breathing hard like beating a motionless, defenseless girl was hard work.
“Is it done?” My dad stood in the doorway, looking in like he was already tired of the drama.
“Yes, sir.” Rolando stepped further back and put the sap away.
Dad walked over and gently rolled me onto my back. He pulled my arms away from my body and looked at me with such loving tenderness, and I was sure he was going to kill me. This was the end, right here, in this disgusting room, on this horrible mattress. He tortured me, and now he was going to kill me.
“Capri,” he said softly. “I’m sorry that had to happen. But I have some questions, and I want you to answer them truthfully.”
“Daddy,” I croaked. Everything hurt. Even talking hurt.
“Where’s Mal?”
Hearing Mal’s name on my father’s lips was worse than the beating. It was like swallowing fire. Like ants eating their way out of my guts. I shook my head, groaning. “I don’t know.”
“Come on, Capri. I know he’s out of jail. He survived my attempt at silencing him, and now he’s running around the city, hurting my people. You can stop him if you just tell me where he’s hiding.”
“I don’t know.”
Dad snapped his fingers. Rolando walked over and handed him the sap.
Father slapped it against his palm.
“Let’s try again. Where’s Mal? Is he working with anyone?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since he went to jail.”
Dad raised the sap. I grimaced, ready to die. I did my best to help Mal, and I even got some good moments out of it. I thought of the first kiss. The elated pleasure I felt at him holding me close. That picture I sent. His fingers between my legs. His lips. Everything about him. I got a little bit of pleasure before I died at least. It could’ve been worse.
But he didn’t hit me. He lowered it again, like he didn’t have the strength.
“I want you to say something, and I want you to mean it. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes.” My voice was a rasp. It hurt to say anything at all.
“I want you to renounce Carmine. Tell me you hate the Falsone family. Tell me you’re glad the boy’s dead. Tell me you’d never work with Mal against your own father. Say it, Capri.”
I stared at him and wondered if this was worth sacrificing myself over.
It wouldn’t be true. Mal was worth this agony. Carmine deserved all my pain and so much more. I should’ve been beaten a thousand times over, all because of what I’d done to get my best friend murdered.