Dead Man's Hand (Vegas Underground 7)

I don’t even know how I’m able to form words. My breath is frozen in my throat.

And then in a lightning fast move, Gio grabs the gun from Arnie’s hand and smashes him over the head with it. Arnie’s knees buckle and he goes down fast, but Gio’s already swinging again, smacking his skull with the butt of the gun. Then he drops the gun and uses his fists, smashing Arnie’s face over and over again until blood spurts out and the sound of bone cracking bone turns my stomach.

“Make him stop,” Lori says. The urgency in her tone shakes me out of my shock.

Gio may have ditched the gun, but that doesn’t mean he won’t kill this guy. In fact, he’s already halfway there.

“Make him stop, Marissa,” Mia echoes, and it’s the terror in her voice more than anything that sends me hurtling around the counter.

I latch on to Gio’s arm. “That’s enough!”

He’s lost it, though. I don’t think he even hears me. Gio’s in attack mode. Or more likely, kill mode. It’s horrifying to see the man you love turn into a deadly weapon. He continues beating Arnie with his other arm, like he doesn’t even notice I’m trying to pull him off.

“Gio!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

Now he finally turns and what I see in his expression changes everything.

I see his terror. His eyes are wide and alert. He scans me for injuries as he climbs up, then wraps me up in his arms in a hug so tight I can’t breathe.

“Call 9-1-1,” Lori tells Nonna.

“I already called,” one of the customers says. “Police are on their way.”

Gio won’t let me go. I need him to set me free. To handle this situation.

“You,” Nonno accuses. I don’t have to see to know he’s talking to Gio. But I’m shocked to hear he’s lost his usual amiable, respectful tone when speaking to a Tacone. The venom in his voice is evident this time. “You caused this.” His voice shakes with emotion. I’ve never heard him so upset. “Violence follows you everywhere you go. Why can’t you just leave us alone? Leave us out of it? We don’t want you here. My granddaughter doesn’t want you in her life.”

I stiffen and so does Gio.

His embrace eases slowly until it’s nothing. I’m standing there alone.

“That right, Marissa?” His voice sounds hollow.

I look around. Arnie’s on the floor in a puddle of blood. Mia’s sobbing, staring at him. She’ll be scarred for life by what she just witnessed.

“Luigi, he just saved your granddaughter,” one of the regulars says.

“Yeah,” and “That’s right,” a few others agree.

I want to step back into the circle of those strong arms and let him go on saving me. But my Nonno thinks this is Gio’s fault. And Mia’s still crying, traumatized by what she saw.

And I’m possibly in shock and unable to make a rational decision.

“Maybe you’d better go,” I murmur, not managing to meet his eyes.

The air drops like a bowling ball between us. Heavier than lead. Or maybe that’s my heart—I don’t know.

“Yeah,” Gio says. “Okay. I’m goin’.” And just like that, he walks out.

And that’s when I realize even practically-speaking I just made a huge mistake. The cops will want to talk to him about what happened.

But that’s not why I feel like the walking dead.

It’s because when Gio walked out that door, he took my entire heart with him.

Gio

I’m just finishing washing the blood off my hands and face when the cops show up at my door. They throw their weight around pretty hard, trying to intimidate me. Trying to make this thing with Arnie into something mafia-related. But I’ve been a Tacone too long to even answer their questions without a lawyer present, and since they clearly don’t have anything to even justify taking me in, they leave.

There’s nothing mobster about this situation, even if I was involved.

But that doesn’t change how everyone sees it. Luigi was so sure it was my fucking fault.

Maybe it was, I don’t know. I didn’t mean to beat the shit out of the guy… aw, who am I kidding? I totally meant to beat the shit out of him. He had a fucking gun to Marissa’s head. I consider myself extremely merciful for not taking the safety off his gun—yeah, the idiot didn’t even know how to use the thing which is why I risked grabbing it from his hand—and shooting him in the head. Or giving him a few more blows with the butt of the pistol and busting his skull open. Or…

No. Planning the guy’s death isn’t the direction I should be going.

I’m pretty sure I broke some bones in his face and ribs. That will have to do. I’ll make sure to visit him in the hospital to let him know if he ever comes near Marissa or her family again, he’s a dead man.