I watch him decide against this. I see the desperate fear morph to a pitiful kind of hope, thinking of the years we’ve known each other—I literally knew Joey when he was a little kid, bringing me his Hot Wheels, trying to steal my attention away when I was busy playing with Mateo. I was there when Luciana told him with a sick sort of pleasure about how their father used to keep his mother locked in the basement, tied to a cot while she was pregnant with him. Luciana had a psychopathic streak in her that typically skips the Morelli women and only lands with the males, but she went through a lot shit in her life, too. Probably fucked her up.
Yeah, Joey and I go way back. I understand why he hopes that will matter. Logically he has to know it won’t, since there’s some shit you just don’t do, and betraying Mateo Morelli tops that list.
Nearly getting his unborn child killed? That doesn’t even require a list; it’s just common fucking sense.
But these guys are young, and Joey seems to have even less of that than Vince.
Vince doesn’t come across as hopeful. He doesn’t look behind him at the exit, doesn’t consider running. Without argument, he walks over and drops into my chair, folding his arms across his chest and glaring.
Joey’s still by the door, and I’m starting to lose my patience.
“Move your ass,” I tell him.
Joey plays dumb. “Adrian, what is this about? What’s going on?”
“You know what it’s about. Sit your ass down so we can talk. Unless you’re not interested in a trial, and you want to skip right to the sentencing?”
His breathing already labored, Joey hauls himself across the room and takes a seat next to Vince.
Now that they’re both seated and I’m standing before them, I take out my gun. I didn’t bother before now—could’ve grabbed it fast enough if one of them tried to run. I didn’t expect they would. I did expect Vince to look more scared than he does though, given he’s the younger of the two, the newest to all this shit, the most reluctant.
Joey’s gaze darts to my gun, then to my face, then to Vince.
“Either of you two want to start?” I ask.
Of course they don’t. Even once caught, people want to believe you might not know. They want to believe a reprieve is coming.
Well, most people. Some people just spill their guts, hoping that will earn them mercy, but no one in the Morelli family expects that, so I’m not surprised when neither man speaks.
“Okay,” I say, turning and beginning a slow, purposeful pace in front of their chairs. “I’ll start. Which one of you stupid motherfuckers told Castellanos where to find Mateo the night Meg was shot?”
Joey’s head falls back, a dread-filled, “Oh, fuck,” falling right out of him.
“No volunteers?” I ask after a few seconds. “All right, we’ll come back to that. I don’t recommend you stay silent on this one.” I stop pacing, staring Joey straight in the eye, then Vince. “Who else in this family knew?”
“No one,” Vince mutters.
“No one?” I question, my eyebrows shooting up. “Not Mia?”
A bitter little smile tugs at his mouth and he shakes his head. “Definitely not Mia.”
“Why should I believe you?”
Vince meets my gaze. “Because you know as well as I do that she would’ve fucking told him.”
I close my eyes for a split second, uttering a string of internal curses that would make a sailor blush. “Are you stupid, Vince, or just fucking suicidal?”
“Not everyone worships at the altar of Mateo, Adrian,” he says, loathing permeating each syllable. “I would’ve been loyal to him all my life, but where’s his loyalty to me?”
“He let you keep her!” I remind him, wanting to punch him in the face instead of shoot it.
“Oh, what a fucking nice guy,” he shoots back. “He let me keep my own girlfriend? What a goddamn saint, I’m sorry, my fucking bad.”
“And Meg? You feel good knowing you almost got her killed? What do you think Mateo does if Meg dies, Vince?”
For the first time, I see a shred of remorse. “I never wanted Meg to get hurt. I thought…” He trails off, shaking his head.
“No, finish your fucking thought.”
“I thought Castellanos would send someone good enough to get the fucking job done; I didn’t think Meg would get hurt.”
I shake my head, honestly flabbergasted. Even having figured it out, even knowing what he did, I can’t believe he’s admitting it like this. I can’t believe he’s standing by it.
Joey isn’t.
“We fucked up,” Joey finally says, shaking his head. “We fucked up bad. We wanted to call it off, man, but it was too late.”
“No, we didn’t,” Vince disagrees. “I didn’t want to call it off.”
Joey stares at Vince, his eyes wide. Finally he looks back at me, though he looks as baffled by Vince’s suddenly steel spine as I am. “Well, I did.”