The Girl I Didn't Kill For (Jessie & Nick Book 2)

by Annabelle Costa

  “How long do I have to go to Sicily for?” I ask.

  “For as long as you want to stay out of jail.”

  I feel sick. “You’re saying I can’t come back?”

  Pop shoots a look at me. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you did something so dumb.”

  I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve always been so goddamn careful not to do anything likely to land me in jail. Okay, I broke the law. Lots of times. If you send someone into a guy’s house and have him tell the guy he’s gonna get his balls cut off if he don’t do like we tell him, that’s not exactly legal. I’ve laundered money. I’m no saint—I admit it. But there are risks and then there are risks. I’ve always been careful.

  Now I’m getting busted for something I didn’t even do.

  If I leave the country, I’ll lose everything. I won’t be able to run the business from Italy, that’s for damn sure. And I’ll never see Jessie again. She thinks I killed Seth and hates me for it, so I’m not convincing her to go abroad with me.

  The person who will benefit most is Tony. He wanted to make that deal with Lombardi and now he’s free to do it. And he’ll get to be in charge of the company and won’t have to deal with the indignity of getting pushed around by his little brother.

  If I suggested to Pop that Tony might be behind this, he’d tell me I’m out of my mind. He’d tell me my brother would never do something like that to me. He’d never believe it. He believes I’d shoot a guy in the head then dump the gun right outside the building, but he wouldn’t believe Tony could set me up.

  I don’t want to believe it either.

  Chapter 39

  Jessie

  I wind up going to stay with my mother, because I don’t have anywhere else to go.

  The original plan was for me to stay with Chrissy, but I can’t do that. Chrissy works for Nick—she’s as close as family to him. She’s loyal to him—not me. I can’t talk to her about how I can’t even look that man in the eye now that I think he might have killed Seth. I know she’ll just defend him, and I don’t want to hear it.

  The truth is I think Nick is guilty. I think he shot Seth. I don’t want to believe it, but I can’t think of any other remotely reasonable alternative.

  Mom is angry with me when I show up at her apartment in Bensonhurst, having taken the D train here in the middle of the night. “You could have been killed!” she cries.

  I burst into tears.

  The whole story eventually follows. The problems I’ve been having with Seth. Nick coming back into my life. The kiss between me and Nick. My plan to leave Seth. Seth wrapping his fingers around my neck. And then Seth found murdered in the apartment.

  Mom grows increasingly pale as I tell her what happened. When I get to the end of the story, she reaches out and hugs me aggressively, which is something she hasn’t done in years. We hug, but usually it’s a church kind of hug. We haven’t had a good hug since before I moved out to go to college.

  “You could have died,” Mom says tearfully. “I never would have thought Seth was capable of something like that.”

  I wouldn’t have either. But he did it.

  “Seth deserved what he got,” my mother says with uncharacteristic vehemence. “Nick did the right thing.”

  “God, Mom,” I murmur. “How could you say that?”

  “Nick has always stood up for you.” She lifts her chin. “Your father didn’t like him, but he was wrong about that—like he was wrong about a lot of things. I know how Nick used to walk you home every day to keep you safe. He looked out for you. If he did this to Seth, he had a good reason.”

  I shake my head, feeling the tears brimming to the surface. “No. There’s no excuse for murdering someone.”

  “You don’t know what really happened,” she says. “What if he told Nick that he was going to kill you? What if he tried to attack Nick and there was no choice?”

  She makes a reasonable point. It’s possible that when Nick showed up at the apartment, Seth drunkenly tried to hurt him. Nick might have had no other choice but to shoot him.

  Although he didn’t have to shoot him in the head.

  I don’t know what to think anymore. All I know is that I need some space from Nick Moretti.

  Nick

  I can’t afford to take even a day off from work, so in the late afternoon after I get out of jail, I’m back at work. Now more than ever, I’ve got a lot to do. Chances are, I won’t be living in this country for much longer so I gotta tie up all the loose ends. There’s so much to do. I can’t trust Tony to do shit after I’m gone.

  I can’t trust Tony at all.

  Chrissy is working at her desk when I arrive. I never told her I’d be coming in, so I’m happy to see she’s hard at work, without even knowing I’d be here. Her eyes widen when she sees me, then fill with tears.

  “Nick!” She jumps up from behind her desk and throws her arms around me. She smells nice—she doesn’t wear a lot of perfume, so it must be her shampoo. “I was so worried about you!”

  “I’m okay,” I tell her.

  “I can’t believe what happened.” She pulls away, wiping tears from her eyes. “You could’ve told me. I spent half the night waiting for Jess to show, but she never did. I didn’t even know what was going on till Jack called me.”

  “Jessie never came over?”

  Chrissy shakes her head no.

  I get a bad feeling in my stomach, but I push it away. I can see why Jessie wouldn’t have wanted to go to my assistant’s apartment after what happened. She probably went to her mother’s house.

  Still. Maybe I’ll get someone to check on her.

  “You didn’t ask me if I killed him or not,” I say.

  She hesitates, and I know from looking at her face why she never asked me. She must’ve just assumed I did it. Like everyone else. “Did you?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Okay,” she says.

  I wonder if she believes me. Probably not.

  “Not that it matters,” I mutter. “Everyone thinks I did it. And I’m sure the jury will too.” I sigh. “Chrissy, I got a job for you.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Anything, boss.”

  “I need you to get me a passport.”

  She frowns. “You already got a passport.”

  “I need one that isn’t in my name. And this needs to stay quiet.”

  Her eyes widen as she realizes what I’m planning to do. “You’re gonna skip out on bail?”

  “I don’t have much of a choice,” I mutter. “It’s either leave the country or spend the rest of my life in jail.”

  “But…” Her brows knit together. “You can get to the jury, I bet. You got the money.”

  “I can’t take that risk.” That’s me—always doing the safest thing. I’ve been so goddamn careful. And now look at what happened.

  Chrissy lowers her eyes. She looks really upset and I feel the same way—she’s been like a sister to me these last few years and losing her will be a big loss. I’ll miss her when I leave. A lot.

  “I need you to help Tony when I’m gone,” I tell her. “Make sure he doesn’t fuck up too much. Okay?”

  “Nick…”

  “Don’t fall apart on me, Chrissy.” I straighten my tie out. “It’s rough enough on me as it is. You gotta be strong.”

  For some reason, I think of when I first saw Chrissy again after ten years—how I tried to impress her by showing how I got rid of my Brooklyn accent. I don’t bother anymore around Chrissy. Soon I’ll be in Sicily, and even though I’m fluent, my accent when I speak Italian is terrible. When I’ve visited Sicily, all my grandparents’ friends said that I sounded real American. That’s the next thing I gotta work on.

  Won’t be much else to do over there.

  Goddamn it. I can’t believe I’m being forced to leave my country. It’s like getting shot and having my life taken away from me all over again.

  And again, it’s all because of my brother.

  __
___

  When Tony shows up at my office, Chrissy’s already gone for the day. It’s seven o’clock, so the building is mostly deserted. I only know he’s here because he text messages me from downstairs to ask if he can come up. I tell him to go ahead.

  After all, he’s got the key. Just like he’s got the key to my home, where I used to keep the gun that was found in the dumpster.

  Tony saunters into my office a few minutes after texting me. As I watch him come through the door, I remember how for about five minutes, I was an inch taller than him—until I ended up having to spend my life sitting down. He’s wearing a button up white shirt with no tie with the top two buttons open to reveal dark chest hair—Tony’s look. I tell him all the time he looks like a sleazebag that way, but he likes it. Well, he can do whatever the hell he wants. He’s not my problem anymore.

  “Nico!” He shakes his head at me. “What are you doing here so late? I figured after what you’ve been through today, you’d at least cut your workday short.”

  I can barely even look at him. “There’s too much work,” I mutter.

  Without being invited, he plops himself down in one of the chairs in front of my desk. “What the hell did you do, Nico? This shit’s all over the news.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” I say through my teeth. “I’m innocent.”

  Tony laughs. “Oh yeah. And I got an IQ of two-hundred.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Come on.” He grins at me. “We all know you capped that asshole. He deserved it. I just didn’t think you had it in you, little brother.”

  His words are grating on me. How could he look me in the eye and say what he’s saying? “You know I gotta leave the country now. Permanently.”

  Tony looks surprised. “Yeah? How come?”

  “Because I don’t want to spend my life in prison, you asshole.”

  He frowns. “Quit yelling at me. It’s not my fault you shot that guy.”

  “I didn’t shoot him and you know it, Tony,” I hiss at him.

  My brother is quiet for a moment, any trace of laughter gone from his face. It’s then that I realize how quiet this entire office is. Me and Tony are probably the only two people on the entire floor. And while I don’t have my piece handy, I’d bet Tony does. He always does.

  Christ, he wouldn’t really kill me though.

  Would he?

  Chapter 40

  Nick

  Tony keeps staring at me, a dark look on his face. A week ago, I would’ve told you I knew my brother better than almost anyone else in the world.

  Tony and I are about a year and a half apart in age. We spent the first ten years of our lives trying to kill each other. Our parents didn’t even attempt to stop it—lucky thing neither of us were very good at it. Tony gave me my first black eye. Also, my second and third black eyes. He knocked out two of my baby teeth. The first time I got stitches was thanks to Tony throwing a jagged rock at my forehead. Ma yelled at Tony for that one.

  I gave it back to him though, especially after I got older. I broke Tony’s nose once and it’s still crooked. I punched him in the gut so hard once that he vomited all over the carpet. I gave him a concussion when I shoved him off the tire swing in our backyard—although Tony’s had so many concussions, it doesn’t even seem that important.

  In high school, we didn’t fight so much, except to swear at each other. Sometimes he’d punch me for no reason though, and I’d punch him back. If we started wrestling, it was a game to see who could pin who first. When he was fifteen and I was fourteen, he almost always won. When he was eighteen and I was seventeen, I won a lot too. Although Tony was still the better fighter. Always.

  We haven’t played that game since I got shot. Tony isn’t rough with me anymore now that I’m in the chair. We’re still close—I used to think we were anyway—but the dynamic is different. Things are different. I’m the one Pop picked to take over the business, and Tony… well, he’s part of things, but not making the big decisions. He mostly seemed okay with spending more time partying than working—I never thought he resented me, except when he did.

  And now here we are. No more bullshit. I won’t play dumb anymore.

  “What are you saying to me, Nicolas?” he says in a low voice.

  I meet his eyes. I may not be able to walk, but I can stare a guy down good as he can. “I think you know what I’m saying.”

  Tony is quiet. He’s carrying. He’s definitely carrying. He doesn’t go anywhere without his piece.

  “Your buddy Lombardi wanted the Morell,” I say. “And you wanted to sell it to him. Bad. Only problem was I wouldn’t budge on it. So you had to get me out of the way.”

  He snorts. “You’re outta your goddamn mind.”

  I raise my eyebrows at him. “Let me guess. Lombardi wanted to off me, but you said no. So you came up with a better idea to get rid of me.”

  I hit the nail on the head. Tony shifts in his seat. “Nico, come on…”

  “It’s what you always wanted,” I say. “I’m outta the way and you can do whatever the hell you want with the business. Except now I know.”

  So if you want to get away with it, you’ve got to kill me.

  Tony is looking at me, just shaking his head. I expected to see him sweating by now, but he isn’t. He leans forward in his seat, looks me straight in the eyes and says, “I didn’t set you up, Nico.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Tony tugs on the collar of his shirt. “I can’t believe you’re sitting here and accusing me of trying to get you sent to the can. You really think I’d do that?”

  I don’t answer that question. The answer is obvious.

  “Nico…” He frowns at me, his brows knitting together. “You’re my brother. You and Ma and Pop… you’re my whole family. I love you, Nico. You really think I’d do something like that to you.” He shakes his head. “I mean, shit, you saved my life, man. If not for you, I’d be fucking dead. I’d be lying in a coffin right now, six feet under.”

  Could be. The thought of Tony not being around anymore was the only thing that gave meaning to my injury on the bad days.

  “I would never sell you out.” Tony’s voice shakes on the words. “And if you really think that fucker Lombardi is behind this… well, he’s not getting his hands the Morell. Never. He’ll have to kill me first.”

  I look into my brother’s eyes and realize that he means it. He means everything he’s saying. I can’t believe I thought Tony would set me up. Of all the things he’s capable of, he’d never do that.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have been thinking that. It’s just… it’s been a hard couple of days.”

  “No kidding.” Tony shakes his head. “You look like shit. Even more so than usual.”

  I roll my eyes at him.

  “So,” he says thoughtfully, “you really didn’t cap that asshole, huh?”

  “I wanted to,” I admit. “I don’t know what might have happened, but either way, he was already dead when I got there. And whoever did it used my gun. They wanted to pin it on me, Tony.”

  “Shit,” he says under his breath. “You’re really thinking it was Lombardi?”

  I shrug. “It’s as good a guess as any. He had the most reason for wanting me out of the way. Only…”

  Tony raises his eyebrows. “Only what?”

  “He couldn’t have done it alone.” I frown. “The timing was too perfect. Seth beats the shit out of Jessie, and then bam, he’s dead less than an hour later.”

  “The apartment could’ve been bugged?” he suggests.

  “Maybe.” It’s a possibility, but somehow, I don’t think so. This feels like an inside job to me.

  “I don’t think you should go to Italy,” Tony says. “If you’re innocent, you should fight this thing. Shit, Nico, I can’t manage here without you.”

  “I can’t take the risk,” I say for what feels like the hundredth time.

  No, I don’t want to be chased out of my own coun
try for a crime I didn’t commit. But at the same time, I can’t risk being found guilty. And if Lombardi is out to get me, I’m willing to bet they’re gonna see me hang for this.

  Chapter 41

  Jessie

  Seth asked me to marry him on the way to my father’s funeral. Who would have thought that only a few years later, I’d be attending his?

  If someone told me back then, I would have cried. I’d have lamented how unfair it would be for someone to die so young. Yet now, as I watch them lower Seth’s closed coffin into the dirt at the cemetery plot where he’ll spend the rest of eternity, my eyes are dry. My last memory of Seth is of his hands around my neck. Instead of feeling sad to be at his funeral, I was grateful it’s not him at mine.

  Seth’s father died two years ago, and Aileen Parsons, Seth’s mother, never offered me the opportunity to speak at her son’s funeral. For that, I’m both relieved and anxious. Relieved because the last thing I want to do is deliver a moving speech about Seth to the guests. And anxious because if the fiancée of the deceased isn’t asked to speak, that doesn’t say anything positive about me. I don’t know Aileen very well, and she took over the plans for the service without involving me at all. I didn’t approach her before or after the service, and I’ve yet to say one word to her since Seth’s death.

  I’m worried she thinks I killed him.

  In a way, I did. Seth would still be alive if I hadn’t run to Nick’s apartment in tears. At the very least, I cheated on him before he’d given me a good reason to. It wasn’t Seth’s fault I never got over my high school romance.

  I’m not sure how much Aileen knows. What did the police divulge to her? Does she know about Nick? If she doesn’t, I’m sure she will soon enough. If there’s a big trial, this will all end up coming out. Maybe it’s better to talk to her about it now, before things get too heated.

  It’s a short, quiet burial. Aileen sobs quietly as the coffin finds its place in the ground. Her husband is gone and he’s her only child—I can’t even imagine how she must be feeling right now. I look at the well-worn black skirt and top she’s wearing, and realize that money must be tight for her. Seth told me stories about growing up poor—not welfare poor, but poor enough that he got discounted lunches at school, and a couple of times, the electricity got shut off for a few days.