Chapter Twenty: Tattered Souls

Sonia and Trevor sat inside their stolen SUV, which was parked near the curb, two buildings down from a restaurant dubbed Licensed To Grill. It was a cozy little establishment ensconced between a sex shop and a Bean Machine at the north end of the Strip, just a short drive from the pink architectural horror known as The Lady Luck Casino and Resort.

According to Sonia, both casino and restaurant were under the ownership of notorious mafia boss Joe Pierno. The former had been acquired back in the early 2000's, when it was still called The Emerald Isle Casino. Back then the Piernos had been small fish making insignificant ripples in the ocean of organized crime, but the purchase of the Emerald had caused a wave of discontent, particularly because it had been under the ownership of Tony Centore a month earlier, before he'd been found dead in the men's restroom at Licensed To Grill, face down in the urine trough with two knives embedded in the back of his neck. The unceremonious murder of one of the heads of the four major families didn't exactly sit well, and the rapid purchase of his casino had been more than a little suspicious. The Venturas Committee, which consisted of those four major heads(dwindled to three, after Centore's death) and more or less acted as a kind of mafia senate, had ordered Joe to a meeting after he'd bought out the Emerald and was put under interrogation about Centore's death. Joe denied any responsibility, and Salvatore Lupo, who had then been a respected member of the Committee, backed up his claim.

Of course, Sonia knew the truth of it. Pierno had wanted to front his business through one of the big casinos and put himself on the underworld map and Lupo had always seen Centore as a major threat, so the two men had joined forces out of mutual benefit and covered up their unsanctioned power move, cementing a long-time, secret alliance.

It wasn't long after that Joe Pierno purchased the very restaurant where Tony Centore had choked to death on his own blood with the reek of piss in his nose. And it was from here that Joe conducted a good deal of the family's business and hosted many a sit down, most of it taking place in his private office, away from prying eyes and ears. The restaurant also served as a hang out spot for his crew. Normally, a large number of mafiosi gathering at one place was considered foolish, attracted far too much attention, but Sonia knew it was a grand show of confidence on Joe's part. Not that he had no reason to be confident. The family operated the biggest narcotic ring in the city and had a lot of powerful friends, including a Colombian crime lord, the state's governor, and a member of the US Senate, the latter two known in the underworld to be terminal crack fiends.

"If Joe's going to be anywhere," Sonia said as she eyed the establishment and the two, beefy suited men standing guard right outside the front door. "It's going to be here. If memory serves, his office should be on the second floor, north side of the building. The front's guarded, I'm sure you noticed. The back entrance always is too; two men, maybe more if anyone inside decided to come out for a smoke or something. The back way's the smartestoption, though. It's closest to the office, and if we can get in quiet, we won't face much resistance."

"Ugh, Good Lord," Trevor groaned as he dropped his head back against the seat's headrest. "Why you gotta fucking be like that, huh? Logical and anal retentive. Really chaps my ass. I mean, it's not like we're robbing a fucking bank here. So why don't you stop being a control freak and loosen the fuck up? Fuck the details, fuck the plans. Wing it, improvise, get fucking crazy! Bust through the front door and make some fucking noise!"

"You know what, I'm good," she said, shaking her head at him. "I prefer being the sane, logical one in this relationship. Helps balance out all your crazy."

"And that's exactly wh-" Trevor stopped short and stared at her, as his brain finally registered what she'd said. "Whoa, whoa, wait, hold on. Relationship? So it's official, then? Ha, I can't fucking wait to rub this in Michael's fat turd face! You know, he always said I would never-"

"Do you have ADD or something?" Sonia interrupted. "Stop changing the subject. Look, if we bust through the front door and start shooting up the place or something, Joe's bodyguards will spirit him away in a heartbeat while we're trying to kill off the twenty plus mafia soldiers inside that restaurant. And then we'll likely have to deal with the cops too. Considering Joe is your ticket to getting Brice, I would think you'd want to play this smart."

Trevor got quiet for some moments, giving the restaurant or perhaps the pair of goons standing guard outside a pensive stare. He chewed the inside of his cheek for another handful of seconds, then made a sullen face. "Alright, fine," he conceded with childish resentment. "We'll do it your fucking way." He faced her again with a somewhat threatening look and jabbed a finger at her chest. "Consider yourself fortunate I love you, sunshine, otherwise this would not be fucking happening."

"Or maybe you just know I'm right." Grinning, Sonia reached over and patted him rather teasingly on the top of his head. "Cheer up. At least you'll get to break your mafia kill cherry."

Trevor swatted her hand away. "When I imagined breaking my cherry," he grumbled. "I imagined taking out a whole goddamn army of the fuckers."

Ignoring the complaint, Sonia turned a bit in her seat to reach into the back, where a black duffel bag sat. It contained their mini arsenal, which they had purchased prior to arriving at the restaurant and on Trevor's dime, since Sonia hadn't been able to afford it on her measly government change. The duffel bag held over ten thousand dollars worth of guns and ammunition, and was heavy as sin as she dragged it to her, sitting it between the front seats.

Unzipping the bag, Sonia reached inside and shifted some things around, then brought out a combat pistol with an attached suppressor and two full magazines. She loaded one into the mag well and pulled back the barrel slide to chamber the first round, then handed the gun and the extra mag over to Trevor.

She performed the same procedure with her own combat pistol and pocketed a second magazine, then she looked up into the rear view mirror to adjust her Marilyn Monroe-style blond wig and dark aviator sunglasses, also purchased prior to arriving, but on her own dime. Trevor had ribbed her about the disguise almost nonstop on the drive over.

She'd thought he'd gotten his fill of making fun of her, but apparently not.

"Did I mention you look like an idiot in that wig?" Trevor jeered with a sneer. "It's a crying shame you make such a horrible blonde. I prefer blondes, just so you know." He peered down at her chest, lingering there longer than he'd meant to. "And bigger tits."

"That's nice," Sonia casually dismissed. "But I'm not exactly wearing this stupid wig, nor did I grow breasts, for your benefit."

"Yeah, now there's a fucking surprise. What do you ever do for me?"

"What would you like me to do for you, Trevor?" she teased.

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you flirting with me or are you just being a smartass? I can't tell."

Sonia merely smiled and pushed her door open to get out.

Trevor followed suit, and they both started up the sidewalk toward Licensed To Grill. The two goons standing outside the restaurant were angled a little bit away from them, talking to each other, but the sidewalk was too open for Sonia and Trevor to make a clean break for the alleyway that led to the back of the building. They needed some cover or a distraction, and they soon got one.

When a small group of pedestrians wove around them, they fell in line behind them, following until they could dodge unnoticed into the alleyway. Sonia drew her combat pistol from the waist of her pants and crept along the side of the building, holding the gun in both hands with the muzzle pointing at the ground, the same way the cops do. She could hear voices coming from the way she was headed, male, maybe two of them. She drew up as close to the corner of the building as she could and flattened her back against the wall, then peered around the edge until she had the rear entrance guards in her peripheral.

"I swear on Mother Mary's tits," one of them was saying. "This broad 'bout sucked my cock off! And right as I'm 'bout to blow my load down her throat, her mother busts through the door. I'm thinkin' 'shit, this ain't gonna end well.' She's gonna fuckin' call the cops or attack me or some shit and I'm gonna have to kill the bitch. 'Cept she doesn't. You know what this slut does? You ain't gonna believe it! She joined in!"

The other one laughed. "You're right, man, I don't believe it! You're full of shit!"

"Hey, fuck you!"

The two proceeded to argue the validity of the story, and Sonia looked to her left, where Trevor stood close, shifting his weight from foot to foot, eager as ever to spill blood.

She held up two fingers.

He nodded once.

Gripping her pistol firmly in her right hand, Sonia drew it around the side of the building, angling her body a little, and adjusted her aim until it was squarely targeted on the head of the guy standing closest to her, facing away.

She squeezed the trigger. The gun made a muffled phhhht sound and blood spattered the wall the man was standing near.

As he crumpled to the ground, the remaining goon cried out in shock, "Oh! What the fuck!?"

Trevor burst around the corner then, gun raised. The last thing the guard saw was his gruesome smile, then his head jerked back in a spray of blood.

Sonia stepped around the corner just as the restaurant's back door opened and a suited man appeared. He looked between the two strangers, then down at the two bodies on the floor. He reached into his suit jacket, probably for a weapon, and opened his mouth, probably to call for backup, but he didn't get far in doing either.

Trevor put a bullet in his throat.

The dying man clutched at his neck and gurgled on his blood. He reared back and Sonia lurched forward, grabbing him by the front of his shirt before his body fell and made any unwelcome noise on the hard floor inside the building. She jerked him forward out of the threshold and he landed on one of the other bodies, hardly making a sound.

Sonia stepped through the doorway and was greeted with the mouth-watering aroma of grilling meat coming from the kitchen. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since yesterday.

She looked around the dimly lit corridor as Trevor prodded her to get a move on. She waved an impatient hand at him and strained her ears for any sounds outside the static of chatter and laughter coming from the dining area, but she heard no frantic footsteps or shouts. It seemed no one knew they were there yet, but that wasn't likely to last long, especially if the guards out front decided to come around back and noticed the bodies.

Sonia started up the set of stairs to her right, Trevor practically on her heels. At the top, they came to another corridor, this one lined with doors. Sonia made a beeline for the second one on the right, grasped the knob, and yanked the door open.

She burst inside, gun raised.

The office was empty.

Frowning, Sonia lowered her pistol to her side. "Damn it..."

"I thought you said if this bastard was gonna be anywhere it would be here?" Trevor griped from behind her.

"I did. Just because he ain't in his office doesn't mean he ain't in the building. He's probably downstairs in the dining area."

"Right, right, at the front...where I'd suggested we come in in the first place, but, oh no, we had to do things your way. Quiet and boring, and doomed to fail from the start."

Sonia turned to him with a scowl, and for half a second she considered smacking him. "Just wait here while I go check."

Trevor looked rather pleased with himself as he stepped behind the big, intricately carved mahogany desk in the room and plopped down in the black leather chair behind it. "Oh, yeah, sure, go right ahead." He propped his grimy boots up on the desk, dropped his gun in his lap, and laced his hands behind his head. "Me, I'm just gonna sit here and relax. You let me know when you're ready to handle this my way."

Sonia turned on her heel and stomped out of the room, grumbling, "Arrogant prick."

"Hey! I heard that!"

Coming down the stairs, Sonia followed the hallway until it came to a corner. She stopped there and looked around it to make sure the way was clear. This corridor was longer and ended in a set of swinging double doors, which, as she remembered, led out to the dining area. A similar pair of doors lined the left side of the wall and led into the restaurant's kitchen.

She had to make this quick. The wait staff were always coming in and out of those doors.

And as if on cue, a man in black slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows stepped out of the kitchen with a tray full of food balanced on his palm.

As soon as he went through the doors that led out into the dining area, Sonia tucked her gun in the waist of her jeans, came out around the corner and hurried up the hallway, quietly as she could manage.

The doors were still swinging a little when she got to them. She pressed one open a little and peered through the crack.

The dining area was packed with patrons, normal folk and mafiosi alike, though anyone not from the underworld wouldn't have been able to tell them apart. Sonia saw several familiar faces among the diners, made men she had worked with or had simply shook hands with at meets or social gatherings in the past. She was surprised she remembered so many of them, considering there had been too many introductions to count. Her old boss had been a bit nontraditional, at least in his belief that the mafia should welcome more women into their fold. As it was, Sonia had been one of only two made women that existed among the Venturas families, the other being Milena Montagna. Lupo had been proud of that fact and often showed Sonia off, presenting her to whomever he could. It had made her feel a little like she was some kind of sideshow freak.

Bet he regrets ever initiating me now, she thought as she quelled her own regrets.

Sonia didn't see Joe Pierno among the patrons, so she turned to head back to the office.

And froze.

A waitress stood there, staring at her, frowning.

Sonia played it cool, putting a hand over her chest and forcing out a small laugh. "Scared me. Didn't know you were there."

"You're not supposed to be back here," the waitress said with a half scolding tone. "Can't you read the sign outside the door? Staff only."

"I'm supposed to be meeting Mr. Pierno on business. He wasn't in his office, so I came down to see if he was having lunch or something."

The waitress looked her up and down. "You're not dressed for a business meeting."

Sonia narrowed her eyes. "The meeting didn't require formal attire."

"Well, Mr. Pierno isn't here. In fact, he hasn't been here in almost a week. If you're supposed to be meeting him on business, I would think you'd know he hasn't been here—someone would have informed you of that." The waitress gave her a suspicious look. "Who are you?"

The woman was smart, too smart for her own good.

You should've backed off and went about your waitressing, Sonia thought as pulled her gun and lunged at the woman.

Sonia got a hand clapped over the woman's mouth before she could scream and jammed her pistol's muzzle into her stomach. "Not a sound or I'll put a bullet in your gut. It's a painful way to go."

The waitress nodded her head as tears filled up her wide, terrified blue eyes.

Sonia prodded her with the gun. "Back up. Keep moving until I tell you to stop."

She did as she was told, backpedaling up the hallway, Sonia moving with her. The woman stumbled over her own feet a few times, but kept her balance. Sonia got her backed up through the rest of the hallway to the stairs, where she had her stop.

Sonia rose her gun to the woman's temple. "You should've minded your own business."

The waitress let out a muffled scream that was cut short when Sonia squeezed the trigger. She felt the warm spray of blood on her face. The woman's corpse dropped to her feet. Sonia stepped over it and started up the stairs.

Trevor was taking a long swig out of a glass decanter containing some amber liquid when Sonia stepped back into the office. He sat the decanter on the desk, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and let out a charming belch, all while giving her a critical once-over. "So, now you're killing people without me? I'm hurt. We're supposed to be sharing these experiences—y'know, as a couple."

"Never mind," Sonia dismissed. "Let's go. He ain't here; he never was. He hasn't been around in almost a week."

"So, then, where is he?" Trevor asked when they were back in the SUV.

"Only other place he could be is the Lady Luck," Sonia answered as she started the vehicle and pulled it out into traffic. "Pierno usually leaves it to his sons to run things together at the casino, but since Paul's in San Andreas..." She shrugged. "Could be filling in for him. His youngest son Gino, he's capable, but he's short-tempered. Joe'll probably be there just to keep him line, make sure he don't do anything stupid."

From the restaurant, it was only a ten minute drive to The Lady Luck Casino, and might have been shorter if not for some traffic on the Strip.

The big, three story building was a hideous hot pink color that was lit up with neon green lights at night. The drive that led to the main entrance, where valets will park your car for an exorbitant tip, arced around a tall, stone representation of Lady Luck in her barest form, standing in a stone pool, her arms outstretched to welcome visitors. She was surrounded by green shrubs, pink blossoms, palm trees, and jets of water that shot up to her height and cascaded down her nudity to pool in the huge basin beneath her, where many a person has tossed her some coinage in exchange for her blessing of fortune.

Sonia drove on to the back of the casino and pulled into the employees' parking lot, which was packed full of vehicles. It took a little hunting, but she eventually found a spot that would give them a good enough view of the back entrance.

She put the SUV in park, rolled down the windows, and then killed the engine. "There's just one problem," she said.

"Oh, but of course," Trevor said. "Isn't there always?"

Sonia smiled a little at his grumpy tone. "The top floor of the casino is where the owner's offices are, and where Joe will likely be. It's restricted access. You need a keycard to get in, and only Joe, his two sons, and his bodyguards have them. So, sit back and relax. We're gonna have to wait until one of them shows up. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky and it'll be Joe and we won't have to worry about getting inside."

"Argh, fuck, I don't like waiting. What about emergency stairwells, that sort of thing?" Trevor asked, even though he had a feeling it was a waste of time.

She shook her head, knowing what he was thinking. "All the stairwells have access to every floor, but the top floor doors still require a keycard."

"Fucking figures. Look, I don't got the patience for this shit. You can sit out here and wait. I'll go in, see if the bastard's out on the floor. What's he look like?"

"Short, fat, balding, always wears a white suit and he's always flanked by two huge guys in black suits. You won't miss him."

Trevor opened the door to get out, but Sonia reached over and grabbed his arm. She got an impatient look from him.

"And if you see him, call me. Don't do anything crazy," she cautioned. "There's a lot of security and they blend in with everyone else."

Trevor rolled his eyes as he shook her hand off his arm. "Yes, Mother. You just abhor the idea of me having any fun, don't you?"

"No, I abhor the idea of you getting killed," Sonia retorted.

"Good to know you care," he said rather dismissively. "But I'm a big boy now, sunshine. And in case you've somehow failed to fucking notice, I can handle myself. Was doing it long before you ever came along."

He stepped out of the SUV, shut the door, and headed off for the casino's back entrance.

Sonia frowned and shook her head. Sure, he could handle himself, but sometimes she couldn't help but wonder if he had a subconscious death wish. That might explain his weird little desire to needlessly put himself in dangerous, idiotic situations—or 'fun', as he liked to call it.

She palmed her face in frustration, mostly at herself. "Urgh, what am I doing?" Specifically, what was she doing with him, knowing in her goddamn gut that he was going to get himself killed one day and put her through that awful fucking pain she never wanted to feel again.

Sonia had no answer outside of just wanting him and seemingly having no control over that want, as if it were just built out of instinct. And it fucking frustrated her that the whole thing was that simple, that it wasn't as complicated as it should've been.

She sat there in the SUV for close to an hour, watching the back entrance. A few people came in and out, but no one Sonia was expecting.

She pulled her cellphone out of her hip pocket and decided to give Brian a call, see if he'd made any headway with locating Brice yet.

The man answered on the second ring, "Hello?"

"Brian, it's me. Just wanted to check in, see if you've had any luck with Brice yet."

"Sonia. Yeah, I'm still working on it. Might have a lead. I've been tailing Paul, and he's made a few trips to some house in the hills around Grapeseed. I'm thinking Brice might be there, but I need to do further surveillance before I can confirm. What about you?"

"Same. Working on it. I'm outside the Lady Luck right now, waiting to see if Joe's around. He wasn't at the restaurant."

"That's unusual."

"I figure he's filling in for Paul at the Lady Luck, to make sure Gino doesn't do anything reckless." She sat up a little in her seat when she noticed Trevor returning. "Listen, I gotta go. I'll let you know when we have Joe."

"Alright. Good Luck."

"You too."

Sonia ended the call and stuck her phone back in her pocket as Trevor opened the passenger door and ducked into the seat.

"Anything?" she asked.

"Nope, didn't see 'im. And security might have kicked me out and banned me for life. You believe that shit? Banned me! Total fucking bullshit."

"What did you do?" Sonia sighed.

"Nothing that warranted the unfair treatment I received. Bastards were looking at me funny the moment I came in. Started breathing down my neck for being a 'looky-loo', so I sat at a Blackjack table and played a few rounds. Then those glorified fucking mall cops accused me of 'counting cards' and hustled me outta the place."

"Were you?"

Trevor made a face. "That's not the point. They singled me out the moment I walked through the door."

Sonia smiled. "Well, you do have a rather suspicious look about you."

"Yeah, fuck you too."

They lapsed into silence and kept their vigil on the back entrance. It was going on five in the afternoon, so more casino employees were coming in and out of place as shifts changed.

Not ten minutes later, Trevor began getting antsy, shifting around in the seat and sighing every few seconds. Sonia was no fan of waiting around either, but he didn't have to act like it was fucking torture.

"If you need something to do," she said. "You could try working on your patience."

"Or, since you seem to not wanna shut the hell up," Trevor shot back. "You could finally answer my question."

She quirked a brow. "Uh, you never asked one."

"Uh, yeah, I did. Coupla days ago? I asked who was it, and you freaked the fuck out on me? Ring any bells?"

Sonia's every muscle tensed up. She knew what he was referring to, and she did not want to talk about that. She could've sworn she'd made it clear to him before that the subject was verboten. "I told you it wasn't important."

Trevor, always a direct asshole, didn't mince words and went so far as to serve them with a side of sarcasm. "Oh, yeah, sure. You were only raped by someone you trusted. And that was nothing, right? I mean, it's not like it traumatized you so much you cringe at the very mention of sex—which is weird for someone who used to sell their body for heroin, by the way. I don't fucking get that."

"I don't fucking care if you get it or not!" Sonia spat viciously, unable to rein in her defensive anger or help the sudden urge to want to tear his vocal organ out. Let's see him try to fucking talk about this without a larynx. "You're only bringing this up because you're bored. And quite frankly, Trevor, you can go fuck yourself. I'm not gonna talk about this shit just to keep you entertained!"

His face curdled and his hands curled into fists, and Sonia knew he was getting pissed. Good.

"I'm bringing it up because I want a fucking answer," Trevor growled.

Sonia locked on his eyes, her own as black and hard as obsidian. "Tough shit." She narrowed those eyes, daring him to press the issue.

"You know, for all your talk about not wanting to be 'that person' anymore, you still have no fucking problem sticking like glue to the pathetic coward routine."

Sonia bristled. "Fuck you!"

"Ooh, temper, temper," Trevor mocked with a laugh. "Listen, sweet cheeks, if you don't wanna be called out on your bullshit, don't bullshit me. That simple."

"It wasn't bullshit!"

"No? Well, let's see some fucking proof, then, 'cause the way I see it, not talking about it is the same as running away from it."

She sighed and looked away from him, her anger deflating. "It's not that easy, Trevor. You're asking me to relive that shit."

"Yeah, I am, and as I recall, I ripped open my tattered, rotten soul and bled out the horrors of my past for you. The least you could do is show me the same goddamn courtesy."

"But I'm not you, Trevor. I mean, when you told me about your shit, it was like it was nothing, like it couldn't touch you anymore. But my shit..." Sonia shook her head, her eyes focused straight ahead, on the casino's back door. "Obviously it still has an effect."

"Yeah, no fucking shit. You think mine don't?" He put his arms out. "I mean, look at me, sunshine, I ain't exactly the fucking poster boy for sanity."

Sonia did look at him, briefly, before gazing at that back door again. She was surprised that he'd admitted to it, given how egotistical he was, and it wasn't often that the insane were aware of their insanity; that was partly what made them insane in the first place. It was a weird little contradiction she found she actually liked. As obvious as he was most of the time, sometimes he was just as much a mystery.

But that didn't help her make a decision about her dilemma. She had never told anyone about what had happened to her; it was a secret she had kept her entire life, too ashamed of it to share it with anyone else—not that there had ever been anyone to share it with, mind you. Yet there was some small, deep down part of her that wanted to open that door and let him in, but she was terrified of what he would think and what he would do with that secret. He'd weaponized the things she'd told him before, used them to get a rise out of her or to hurt her, but they had been small things that couldn't touch her. This was different. This was giving him the power to rip her open in the worst way.

"It's not just about reliving it," Sonia said, deciding to come clean. "It's...I'm afraid of what you'll think, what you'll do with it, okay? I mean, you've used shit against me in the past, so..."

Trevor leaned over and slipped a hand under that fake blonde hair, gripping gently at the back of her neck. "Look at me." After a moment of hesitation, she did and he gave her a crooked smirk. "Trust me when I say this, I couldn't possibly think any less of you than I already do."

She pursed her lips and jabbed him in the chest with her elbow. "Shithead."

"Seriously," he went on, rubbing at the spot her elbow had struck. "I'm not gonna fucking judge you or use it against you, alright? You really think I'm that cruel?"

"Yes," she answered with absolutely no hesitation.

"Well, yeah, you're right, I can be that cruel, I mostly am that cruel, but I'm choosing not to be."

Sonia rolled her eyes. "Only because you want your fucking answer."

"Uh, yeah, that's a given, but no, it ain't the only reason why."

She breathed out a long, tired sigh. This has to happen. No matter how much it fucking hurts and terrifies me, I have to do it. I have to trust him with it. She took a breath and exhaled his name, that awful fucking name she thought she would never speak aloud to another human being as long as she lived. "Lorenzo." It made her skin crawl and her stomach turn sour. "That's his name."

Trevor rose a brow. "Lorenzo? That's it? No last name?"

"No..." She stared out the window, anywhere but at him. "I mean, yeah, there's a last name."

"Well?" he pressed.

It took her several moments, but she finally pushed it out. "Marinelli."

"Lorenzo Marinelli?" Trevor said with a distasteful tone. "What the fuck kind of name is..." And then it hit him. "Hold the fuck on. Isn't that your last name? Wait...but you said it wasn't your father. So, you were lying to me? Again?"

"No. It wasn't my father." Her voice was hardly there.

"Speak up," he growled, losing his patience with her.

"It wasn't my father," Sonia repeated, a little louder. She hunched her shoulders and folded her arms tight against her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. "He was...my father's brother."

"Was? So he's dead?" That did not sit well with him. Trevor wanted the piece of shit alive, so he could personally peel his skin off until he begged to die.

She struggled with a response. "No...I...I don't know, okay? Maybe, maybe not."

Somehow that pissed him off even more. What the fuckwas she saying? "What do you fucking mean, you don't know?" he snapped at her. "Are you...are you fucking telling me you didn't kill him? You let that son of a bitch get away with it?"

Sonia flinched as if he'd struck her across the face. This was exactly what she feared was going to happen. Why did she trust him; why the fuck did she go out on that limb, knowing in her gut that it was going to snap under her? And yet she couldn't blame him for judging her, either. She was an idiot, a goddamn fucking idiot.

She didn't want to be there anymore; she couldn't stand his judgment or her own, or those ugly, awful memories he was making her dredge up. She needed to put as much distance between those things and herself as she could. It was too much to deal with.

Trevor must've sensed her intention to run off, for his hand came down on her arm and gripped painfully tight just as she was about to throw open the car door and head for the end of the earth. "Don't even fucking think about it! You're gonna fucking sit there and fucking answer me!"

"Let me go," Sonia pleaded, trying to pull her arm from his grasp. Her every instinct was telling her to punch the shit out of him and make a run for it, but she couldn't bring herself to hurt him. God damn him. She was thrust into this horrible position with no way out, and it was his fault, his fault, his fault. He'd cornered her here, and she hated him for it. God damn him.

Trevor grabbed her chin with his other hand and pulled her face close to his, fingers digging into her jaw. "I'm never letting you go, so I would suggest you fucking come to terms with it and answer my question. You don't wanna fucking piss me off more than you already have."

Her gaze flickered between his mouth and his eyes. If Sonia hadn't realized he'd fucked her up before, she definitely knew it then. She wanted to kiss him. It was so fucking absurd and wrong for the situation, and yet there it was, as unable to be helped as breathing.

I'm going mad, Sonia thought as she closed the distance and pressed her lips against his.

Trevor instantly responded, as if he'd anticipated it was going to happen, despite her never having initiated it before. Or perhaps he could no more control that response than he could his own rage.

It was just as intense as the first time they had truly kissed, overflowing with intoxicating sensations that left Sonia's mind as muddled as a drunk's. She still had enough sense, however, to break it off when he showed signs of getting too worked up, his groping hands trying to steal to second base.

The moment Sonia backed away, Trevor chased after her with a little growl of protest, leaning into her space and catching her at the nape of the neck to bring her back to him. She planted her hands against his chest and pushed, gently but firmly. There was a moment where he resisted her resistance, then, strangely enough, he backed off. She would've been lying if she said she hadn't been just a little worried that he might force himself on her. The fact that he wasn't made her feel like a complete asshole for thinking he would.

"What the hell was that?" Trevor said with a hoarse voice, and she couldn't blame him for being confused. He gave her a fuzzy look of warning. "If that was a fucking trick-"

"No," she cut him off. "No trick. I just...wanted to."

"You chose an odd fucking time to wanna kiss me," he pointed out.

"I didn't choose it," Sonia mumbled as she stared out the windshield. "And I didn't let him get away with it. I just...couldn't kill him. My parents instilled their values in me, and they valued family more than anything. You don't wrong family and sure as fuck don't kill them. I was thirteen, just a stupid fucking kid that didn't understand what they really meant, that family goes deeper than blood. I thought if I killed him it would make me just as bad as him, or worse, and I couldn't fucking live with that. So, I just waited for the opportunity, and when it came, I ran and never looked back."

Trevor didn't say anything, and as his weird, uncharacteristic silence stretched on, Sonia risked a glance at him to find him glaring down the dashboard as if it had personally offended him.

Well, she thought, better the dashboard than me.

"You ran," he finally said.

"Yeah, it's kind of a bad habit of mine," she quipped darkly.

"And after all these fucking years you never tried to hunt that prick down, exact your revenge?"

Sonia shook her head. "I never wanted to go back there or see his face again. I didn't want the reminder. I just wanted to bury that part of my life...forget."

Trevor looked at her, anger and resent glimmering in his dark eyes. "And how'd that fucking work out for you?"

She frowned. "I don't expect you to underst-"

"Good, because I don't fucking understand!" he snapped, that anger escalating. "You've had, what, twenty years to put that piece of shit in the ground where he fucking belongs, and you fucking wasted them 'cause you were too much of a fucking coward to face him!"

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" Sonia shouted back. "What're you getting so pissed off for!? It's my life! It's my fucked up mistake! It's got nothing to do with you!"

Trevor leaned toward her, hands tightening so hard into fists that his nails cut into palms. He wanted to fucking hit her, and it took everything he had not to. "It's got everything to do with me! You're not the only one who's been wronged like that, as you well fucking know, but they either drank themselves into a grave, fucked off to God knows where or I never knew their fucking names! I never got the fucking opportunity that you did!"

He drew back and got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him.

God. No wonder he's freaking out. Sonia threw open her door and went after him. When she caught up, she reached out and grabbed his hand. "Wait-"

Trevor ripped his hand from her grasp and shoved her away. "Don't fucking touch me!" He pointed a trembling finger at her in warning, his breath coming out in heavy, uneven bursts. "Stay the fuck away from me or I'll...I'll fucking do something...just fucking stay away from me!"

He turned away and rammed a fist into the side of a nearby car, setting off the alarm and leaving behind a dent and some blood, then he stormed off.

Sighing, Sonia turned around and got back into the SUV. She sat there for some moments, breathing heavily as anger began to prickle under her skin, and it was all at herself.

She gritted her teeth and slammed her clenched fists down on the steering wheel. "Fuck!"

After brutally assaulting a couple of valets to vent some of his rage, Trevor made a phone call to Lester Crest.

"Lester, listen, I need a quick favor," he said when the call clicked over. "It's important."

"You again?" the geek replied with his usual imperious and annoyed tone. "Haven't I done you en-"

"Don't start your fucking crap with me, you jumped up, crippled cocksucker!" he cut him off, voice wavering with fury. "Or I'm gonna come over there, rip your fucking head off and shit down your goddamn neck!"

And just like that, Lester's tone changed. "Uh...okay, Trevor. Perhaps I spoke too hasty. My fault."

Trevor cleared his throat. "There, now was that so hard? A little fucking cooperation is all I ask."

"What do you need me to do?"

"You're gonna dig up some information on a certain raping, soon-to-be horribly fucking dead, piece of shit."

"Okay, uh...just so I understand, I'm helping you murder someone?"

"Noooo, you're helping me lay down the hammer of justice on a criminal who's gone unpunished for too long. You should consider this an honor, Lester. I mean, how often do you get a chance to help out the forces of good?"

"Okay...what's the person's name?"

"Lorenzo Marinelli, lives in Las Venturas." Just saying the name made his blood boil even more. He balled his free hand into a tight fist, nails biting into the little crescent-shaped cuts they'd made in his palm earlier. "Lorenzo. What kind of a fucking name is that?"

"Any particular information you're looking for?"

"Just an address, and who he lives with."

"One second..."

Trevor could hear the little geek tapping away at his keyboard, then there was a pause.

"Okay," Lester said. "He lives at 476 Prickle Pine Road. Last census record shows he lives alone."

Trevor grinned his gruesome grin. "Perfect."

He ended the call and searched for a car to steal.

A/N: Well. Yikes.

Honestly, this was a fun and not so fun chapter to write.

Also, I love the word verboten.

Oh, and thanks for the review! Reviews make for a happy writer. :)