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God, Nik.
I whirl to face her and see the struggle playing out behind her eyes. Does she believe it? Does she think I’m capable of this?
“This isn’t what it looks like,” I whisper, but the words sound hollow even to my own ears. They hang in the air, pathetic and unconvincing. I turn back to the room. “It’s not me!”
“Not you?” Larry snarls, cutting me off. He takes another step closer, his bulk looming threateningly. “That’s your face, right there on the screen! So why don’t you explain it to us, huh? Explain how you murdered your own husband? How you’ve been playing us all for fools? How you’ve been pretending to grieve, pretending to give a shit about the Family, while all along you were the one who put a bullet in Don Colombo’s head?”
“Now, now,” Vince drawls, his voice a mockery of reason in the charged atmosphere. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. I’m sure Mrs. Colombo has aperfectly reasonableexplanation for why she was so close to her husband’s office moments before he was shot dead. Don’t you, honey?”
“And you can shut your goddamn mouth,” Larry bellows, stabbing a finger toward Vince. “I bet you two were in on this together! Why else was she so eager to set you free?”
His words are like a match to gasoline. The room erupts into chaos. Accusations fly, voices raised in anger and disbelief.
Through it all, I can feel Nik’s presence behind me, solid and unwavering. But for how long? How long before she, too, turns against me? The thought sends a spike of fear through my heart, colder than any threat of violence.
I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. I’ll be damned if I’m going down without a fight.
“Enough!” I shout, my voice cutting through the din, and the room falls silent.
I lock eyes with each person in the room, one by one. Frank, his face a mask of disappointment and anger. Larry, practically vibrating with rage. Vince, his one good eye gleaming with opportunistic glee. Lyssa and Scarlett’s expressions have hardened into professional masks, waiting to see what my next move will be.
I can’t see Nik. She’s behind me. I have no idea what she’s thinking.
“I didn’t do this,” I say, trying to sound forceful. Convincing. But my voice comes out hoarse and wavering.
Larry’s expression changes, and I can see he’s made up his mind.
“You fucking bitch!” he bellows, and before anyone can say another thing, he’s charging straight for me, strong hands reaching for my neck.
CHAPTER 26
Nik
I move without conscious thought,reacting on pure instinct. In a heartbeat, I’m between Brie and the enraged Larry Caruso, my stance wide and steady, hands slightly raised in a threatening gesture that makes him stop short.
“Everyone needs to take a step back,” I say evenly. “There must be a reasonable explanation.”
Behind me, I hear Brie’s shaky intake of breath. I risk a glance back at her and my heart clenches at the sight. She’s pale as milk, her pallor visible even under her carefully applied makeup.
I’m not sure how we’re going to get out of this, not if the Colombo men team up with the Syndicate women, but I’ll do what I can.
An unexpected voice pipes up. “This is bullshit!”
Holden stands, his face flushed. I’ve always seen him as a bit of a lightweight, more concerned with appearances than substance. But as he faces down a room full of hardened criminals, I see a different side of him.
He’s got a backbone.
“Brie loved Terry,” he continues, his voice ringing with conviction. “She would never hurt him. You all know that, for Christ’s sake!”
His passionate defense seems to give Frank, at least, some pause, who frowns as he thinks it through. But Caruso isn’t having it. “Shut your mouth,” he snarls at Holden, his large hands clenching into powerful fists. “After I snap the blonde’s neck, I’ll come for you, too. You make me sick, you little?—”
“Enough!” Frank’s sharp shout cuts off whatever slur Larry Caruso was about to throw. He turns to Brie, his expression grave. The look on his face—a mixture of disappointment and resigned determination—tells me all I need to know about what’s coming next.
“I’m sorry, Breezy,” he says, and I believe he genuinely is. “But given this evidence, we need to at least take a look at things. You understand.” He nods to Vince. “Sabatelli, take her to?—”
“Not so fast,” Lyssa interrupts, her hand moving again to rest casually at her hip. The move is smooth, almost lazy, but I know better. She’s ready to draw a weapon in a fraction of a second if needed. She and Scarlett are the ones I really need to worry about—at least Larry Caruso telegraphs what he’s about to do. “If she’s one of Grandmother’s, we have a prior claim. She comes with us.”
The tension in the room ratchets up another notch. I can see hands inching toward weapons, eyes darting. We’re seconds away from a bloodbath.
