Prisoned - Marni Mann Page 0,73

more jokes, no more teasing. There could never be again. Kill. He’d made that word come true. He’d pulled the trigger. He’d murdered a friend, a best friend. The guy to my left, the one who had the same eyes as mine, had become a killer.

The drugs, the girls, The Heart. Whatever it was that had changed him, he wasn’t my brother anymore.

“Maybe you should have killed me,” I said.

“Don’t joke about that, Kyle.”

“I’m not joking, Anthony.”

I looked out the windshield as we passed through green light after green light. How was he not swerving all over the road? Not puking out his window? How did he not have tears running down his face, like mine?

Did he not understand what he did? Was he high? Too high?

Maybe he needed to be reminded.

“Do you know how many people you just damaged? Including me?”

He glanced at me quickly, his lip curled like something smelled terrible in the car. Not even the smallest bit of remorse was in his eyes. “I know what I did, and I don’t give a fuck. I told you, he deserved it. It’s been a long time coming. He’s fucking lucky I didn’t pull the trigger months ago.”

A monster.

“No one deserves to be killed. Especially not Paulie.”

“Stop running your mouth, Kyle. I don’t want to be schooled. I don’t want to hear how you don’t approve. I’m not in the mood to listen to you at all, so shut the fuck up or—”

“Or you’ll kill me?”

He jerked the car to the right, and the tires screeched. We hit grass and then pavement. Anthony slammed on the brakes. I gripped the handle on the door, trying to brace myself for what was about to come. I didn’t know if he was aiming for the pole up ahead or if he just wanted to scare me or if he was going to open my door and throw me out. He dodged a fire hydrant and two curbs, coming to a stop at the side of a strip mall.

He panted, but I knew he wasn’t out of breath. That was his way of trying to control his anger.

“Look at me.”

I waited a few seconds before I released the door. My body was so tense that it ached. My head pounded to the point of nausea, and every time I blinked, I saw the pool of blood. If I wasn’t so empty, I would have been projecting bile straight to the floor.

“Fucking look at me!”

I wrapped my arms around my churning stomach and glared at him. He didn’t even look the same. His eyes were hollow. His lips spread too thin. His cheeks sunken in.

“What have you done with my brother?”

“What have I done with him? I’m in the best place of my life right now. I have over twenty girls working for me, and I’m making a shit-ton of money. I’m about to hire twenty more. Do you know how much cash that’s going to bring in—in one night?”

That was what he considered a success? Employing women who sucked dick and spread their legs for cash?

He wasn’t just lost.

He was gone.

“I don’t care, Anthony. I don’t care about money, and I definitely don’t care about yours.”

“You’re going to care because I’m going to give you plenty of it to keep your mouth shut.”

“You can’t buy me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, sister. I can do whatever the fuck I want because I’m the one holding the gun.” He slapped the gun on the armrest, keeping his hand on the butt and his finger on the trigger.

It wasn’t pointed at me, but it may as well have been.

“What the—ow!” I yelled as his other hand clamped my cheek. “Get off me.”

“You’re going to shut the fuck up and listen to me. I’m not going to fight with you, and I’m sure as hell not going to repeat myself.” He traced the gun down the side of my face.

I shivered—not just from the feel of the metal on my skin, but also from the power he had over me.

“You’re going to leave Atlantic City the second you graduate. You’re going to get yourself set up down south somewhere, somewhere like Florida. You’re going to go to college that I’m going to pay for. You’re going to open a business that I’m going to fund. You’re going to get a house that I’m going to purchase in cash. And, every month I’m going to drive down to Florida to check on you, and since my money