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CHAPTER 1
Brie
I’m havinga bad hair day. And this cat-eye is not going to cut it, so I wipe off the jagged line and start again. I’ve gotta get this handled.
I need my face on to face off with what’s coming.
Looking back at me in the mirror with unfocused eyes is a pale ghost with irises that are startlingly green only because the whites are so red. My usually-bouncy blonde hair hangs limp around my face, enhancing the lifeless impression.
I’m a goddamn mess.
I dab concealer under my eyes, then reach for a sponge to blend. It helps a little. I need to look perfect, put-together. It’s what’s expected of me, especially now. But as I reach for the false lashes, I pause. Too much for a grieving widow?
The irony, of course, is that no one actually expectsrealgrief from me. I know what they all thought about me. Gold-digger.
But I reallyamheartbroken.
Terry gave me security,safety, a life I never dreamed could be possible, not growing up where I did.
I’m never going back to that. Never. My fingers tighten around the sponge and I set it down, reminding myself that I’m strong. I’m smart. And I clawed my way up from nothing once before.
I’ll do it again if I have to.
“Ooh.” A suck of breath from behind me makes me look up into the reflected eyes of Holden Brooks. He’s wincing. “Girl, you might need a little extra time.”
Despite everything, I let out a small laugh. He smiles and leans over me, wrapping his arms around me as we regard ourselves in the mirror, his chin resting on the top of my head. His sandy-blonde hair is perfectly styled, and his blue eyes are sad despite the smile.
He gives a slow sigh as the smile dies. “I miss him.”
“Me, too.”
A sharp knock at the bedroom door makes us both jump like we’re guilty of something and Holden straightens up at once. I don’t have time to even call out before the door swings open, revealing Frank Colombo’s bulky frame.
“Jesus,” he says, frowning as he steps into the room. “I walked right in here, Breezy.”
“Yes, you did,” I say coolly. Lucky for me I’m already dressed.
“Where are the guards?” he goes on, and only then does he notice there’s someone in here with me, and he gets thatlookthat he always gets when he sees Holden. “No offense, kid, but you ain’t exactly the tough kind.”
Holden gives his practiced smile, the one he reserves for difficult people. “Hello, Mr. Colombo.”
“Yeah. Give us the room.” Holden leaves at once, though he pauses at the doorway to roll his eyes behind Frank Colombo’s back. But Frank has already forgotten about him. “I’m serious, Breezy. You can’t be alone right now. It’s not safe.”
Breezy. The nickname Terry bestowed on me the minute he learned my name. Hearing Frank say it now, his voice so similar to Terry’s—first cousins, but they could’ve been brothers—makes my throat tighten up. “Not safe? Those bastards already got their target. It’s not me they wanted.”
Frank’s face softens with genuine sorrow. “I know, sweetheart. I know.” He hesitates, then adds, “Listen, we need to talk. Do you have a minute?”
“I have all the minutes you need.” I push aside my makeup and follow him out to the sofa in my sitting area. Frank has switched to his “fatherly” attitude. It’s almost amusing how most men only ever see me in one of two ways: as an object of lust, or as some helpless little girl who needs protection. Sometimes both at the same time, which is its own special brand of creepy.
But at thirty-two, I’m getting tired of making myself small just so these Family men feel big.
“Is this about who killed Terry?” I ask, as Frank huffs and sighs and tries to find his words.
“Oh, no, honey. No.”
“But do you have an idea who?—”
“Now, Breezy, you shouldn’t be worrying yourself about that. You leave that to the Family. We’ll find the bastard who didthis, and he’ll get what’s coming to him.” I’ve gotten the same response every time I’ve asked, and it’s going to make me snap one of these days. And now Frank takes my hand as we sit, patting it in what I’m sure he thinks is a comforting gesture. “Brie, honey…do you know what happened to Big Joe?”
