Page 73 of Primal
“I knew you were having us followed, you bitch. All you know how to do is ruin my plans. All my effort, fucking wasted.”
His plans? What does that mean? Clearly whatever “plan” he had in that fucking Denny’s parking lot went south. But that’s only one, and he used the plural. What could the others be?
As Marco swerves around a truck, I think back to the first time we met. He sat next to me in class and struck up an easy conversation. He was older, but apparently, he finally knew what he wanted… only to drop out at the end of the semester to become a cop.
God, it’s so fucking obvious.
“You knew who I was, didn’t you?”
Marco barks out a laugh. “Sweetheart, everyone knows who you are. Why do you think they kiss your ass?”
So much for not caring about family. That was theonlything Marco cared about. What else was a lie? His affection? His appearance at the charity auction? Every time he gave a shit about me?
The truth cages me in more than this shitty car. I don’t know who Marco Pollozo is, and I’m stuck here with a strange madman.
I pat the pocket of my jeans and curse. My phone isn’t there. It’s in my purse, which I dropped when Marco pushed me into the car. If I can figure out where we’re going, I can formulate a plan and get out of this mess.
I need to keep him talking.
“What else are you going to tell me, huh, Marco? Might as well lay it all on the table now.” I try the door handle again with no luck. “Are you stalking me?”
“Stalking is a crime. Tailing is my job.”
I scoff. “Is that why you became a cop? To skirt the law?”
“I became a cop to put away pieces of shit like you and your family.”
I force myself not to roll my eyes. I don’t want to do anything that triggers his anger.
“So what, put us away so you can suck the dick of the commissioner and get a promotion?”
“That’s your job, not mine.” Marco gives me a toothy grin. That same grin used to fill my stomach with butterflies, but now it only fills me with dread. “Now shut your damn mouth. You talk way too fucking much.”
“And if I don’t?” I challenge. “What are you going to do, throw me out of the car?”
“There’s plenty of other things you can do with a car.”
Someone behind us honks, but I barely hear it. Marco’s words swim through my head, replaying again and again. Normally such an innocent statement wouldn’t mean shit, but clearly Marco has a vendetta against our family. Which means…
No. It can’t be.
“You killed Mason.”
It slips out as a whisper. Someone behind us honks again. Marco ignores me, checking his rearview mirror as he fishes in the front pocket of his plaid button-up for a cigarette. Why isn’t he answering?
Marco lights the cigarette and cuts across two lanes so quickly I grab the safety handle. Someone behind us honks again, but I barely hear it. Blood rushes to my brain, my heartbeat drumming in my ears.
Some guy bugging Mason before his death. The case getting stalled. Marco ignoring my pleas for justice. His anger when I kept pressing the issue. His blowup at the restaurant.
Hisplans.
“You killed my fucking brother.”
Marco takes a drag of his cigarette, looks right at me, and smirks. “Took you long enough.”
I move before I think. I launch myself at Marco and grab onto his hair, tugging as hard as I can. Marco’s head bounces off the driver’s side window, and he jerks the car to the left. His car swipes another before he rights it, and the honking grows louder.
I’m going to fucking kill him. Rage boils my blood and makes my hands shake. I punch Marco as hard as I can, over and over and over. He killed Mason. He took my brother from me. Marco tries to fight me off with one hand, but I hold steady, scratching and pulling until strands of his hair are in my sore fists.