Read Online Russo: His Untold Story (Blacklisted #3) by Maria Delaurentis - Free Book Online
Authors: Maria Delaurentis
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found an overcoat, then took the next ten minutes getting it onto his body and buttoning it. I cleaned the little bit of blood that had gotten on his face, then tucked a pair of sunglasses I had snagged from my truck onto his eyes. Once I felt satisfied I pulled his arm around my shoulder and walked him to the door. It was incredibly difficult to carry someone this way, similar to carrying a tall, 200-LB sack of potatoes with the side of your body. I pulled the door open and peeked out, glad to see no one around. I pulled him as quickly as I could to the staircase, his feet dragging across the plush carpet of the hall. Once we made it into the stairs I pulled him down each flight. From the back door into the truck was a quick maneuver and within half an hour all three of them were loaded. I closed the hatch and ran back upstairs to get the kitchen back in order.
After twenty minutes of tidying I did a once over on the apartment and considered it clean enough. I double checked for any last minute items and locked up the apartment. If I had let myself consider what was going on I might of realized just how fucked this whole situation was. I just spent the last hour cleaning up an apartment covered in blood and dragging bodies to my SUV. Who was I? I had spent so much of my life hating these thugs that took advantage of others, and murdered people—but how was I any different from them? I had gotten so far away from everything that mattered. I hadn’t seen any of my family since my parents’ death and I was sure they were ready to kill me. The one good woman that had somehow ended up in my life was ready to hightail it out as fast as she could. I’d go back to having nothing—and none of the things I did brought my parents back. They were just as dead now as they were before I did all of this. My restaurant was still gone… why couldn’t I see past it all?
I spent the next hour driving back to Genovese’s warehouse and dumping the bodies. I left them right in the middle of the shipping room, knowing it would only be a matter of hours before they were found. His men would think it was a sign, a warning from a rival—something that needed to be covered up. Within the next week the papers would report that Joseph Genovese, husband and entrepreneur had died and the city would mourn. His wife would take over his hotel, and be the model widow—no doubt she’d be wearing black for months. She was just as bad as he was; she knew exactly what her husband did and had even been involved herself a few times. Money laundering had been more her style but once she got that rock on her finger she stood by as a dutiful wife and watched her husband destroy countless lives. I had considered going after her too but perhaps the death of her husband was enough.
When I returned home I could see her sitting on the couch, her back to me. I hesitated going over to her—the sooner I did the sooner she’d be gone. After a few minutes I finally gave up and walked over, lowering my eyes when I made it close enough.
“Brie, I…” my words were cut off by a right hook to the chin. The force of her fist sent me back a step, but honestly I barely felt it. I was barely hanging on at this point and if anything I was more hurt that she just had to keep kicking me while I was down.
“You son of a bitch. I trusted you, just like you told me to. I didn’t put up a fight when you took those degrading pictures; I let you keep me down here. I shared myself with you. I wanted to help you. I wanted to help you out of this situation. I wanted to see you turn back into what I think was your former self. But no. You,” her finger jabbed roughly into my chest. ”You let him take me. You let him beat me, and touch me….” I could see the tears welling in her eyes and the thought of his hand on her was making me wish I was dead. Everything she said was true. I was the sick fuck that put her here.
“You are no better than him. Do you understand that?
After twenty minutes of tidying I did a once over on the apartment and considered it clean enough. I double checked for any last minute items and locked up the apartment. If I had let myself consider what was going on I might of realized just how fucked this whole situation was. I just spent the last hour cleaning up an apartment covered in blood and dragging bodies to my SUV. Who was I? I had spent so much of my life hating these thugs that took advantage of others, and murdered people—but how was I any different from them? I had gotten so far away from everything that mattered. I hadn’t seen any of my family since my parents’ death and I was sure they were ready to kill me. The one good woman that had somehow ended up in my life was ready to hightail it out as fast as she could. I’d go back to having nothing—and none of the things I did brought my parents back. They were just as dead now as they were before I did all of this. My restaurant was still gone… why couldn’t I see past it all?
I spent the next hour driving back to Genovese’s warehouse and dumping the bodies. I left them right in the middle of the shipping room, knowing it would only be a matter of hours before they were found. His men would think it was a sign, a warning from a rival—something that needed to be covered up. Within the next week the papers would report that Joseph Genovese, husband and entrepreneur had died and the city would mourn. His wife would take over his hotel, and be the model widow—no doubt she’d be wearing black for months. She was just as bad as he was; she knew exactly what her husband did and had even been involved herself a few times. Money laundering had been more her style but once she got that rock on her finger she stood by as a dutiful wife and watched her husband destroy countless lives. I had considered going after her too but perhaps the death of her husband was enough.
When I returned home I could see her sitting on the couch, her back to me. I hesitated going over to her—the sooner I did the sooner she’d be gone. After a few minutes I finally gave up and walked over, lowering my eyes when I made it close enough.
“Brie, I…” my words were cut off by a right hook to the chin. The force of her fist sent me back a step, but honestly I barely felt it. I was barely hanging on at this point and if anything I was more hurt that she just had to keep kicking me while I was down.
“You son of a bitch. I trusted you, just like you told me to. I didn’t put up a fight when you took those degrading pictures; I let you keep me down here. I shared myself with you. I wanted to help you. I wanted to help you out of this situation. I wanted to see you turn back into what I think was your former self. But no. You,” her finger jabbed roughly into my chest. ”You let him take me. You let him beat me, and touch me….” I could see the tears welling in her eyes and the thought of his hand on her was making me wish I was dead. Everything she said was true. I was the sick fuck that put her here.
“You are no better than him. Do you understand that?
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