Maximo’s hand slides into mine, squeezing my fingers as the priest starts his prayers. I glance over at my husband. His expression gives nothing away. He appears stern and entirely focused on the proceedings, yet his thumb rubs small circles on the back of my hand.
My gaze slips over to Mrs. Rizzo. I’m met with a subtle dip of her chin.
Lazaro sits on the other side of Maximo. I study him. Could he have done this? He and Julius worked closely together, they’ve known each other for years. I even believe they liked each other. So, why kill him now? That doesn’t really make sense.
Maybe, just maybe, I’m completely wrong about everything. This threat could be coming from the outside. They could have gotten lucky. A coincidence that they caught Maximo on his yacht. Perhaps they stumbled upon Julius near the water. Anything’s possible.
Either way, it’s come down to us versus them. There can be only one victor. One survivor.
I glance all around us, noting the heavily guarded cemetery grounds. Even those seated are armed. If anyone chose this moment to attack, it would be an all out battle. We certainly have strength in our numbers. Can our enemy claim the same?
“Amen,” the priest speaks.
We echo him.
Then the world explodes with a deafeningBOOM. One moment I’m in my chair, the next I’m on the ground with Maximo’s weight pressing down on me.
My ears ring.
My skin feels oddly sensitive and tingly.
Wetness trickles into my hair.
What in the hell happened?
Panic pierces my chest as I push up on Maximo. He doesn’t move, his body is like a lead weight.
My first thought is he’s dead. Devastation hits me like a freight train. A low whimper escapes my lips, but I can only hear the sound inside my own head.
I push at his body again, trying to inhale a single ounce of air.
Finally he moves, ever so slightly shifting his weight to one side. His breath tickles my cheek.
Oh thank god, he’s alive. I let myself marginally relax as relief floods my system, drinking in the feel of him. He’s solid and very much alive.
Maximo pulls back far enough to peer into my face. I search his features, grateful to find him in one piece. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I cling to him, a desperate sob climbing its way up my throat.
He murmurs something. I shake my head, unable to hear him.
Frowning, he pulls me up with him. That’s when I finally notice the chaos all around us. People scream and cower. Others have their guns drawn, prepared for anything. The priest, who was closest to the casket, pats out the flame clinging to his ruined clothes.
Warm wetness drips onto my cheek. I touch my forehead, my fingers coming away bright red with blood. I must have been hit with a piece of flying debris. Maximo produces a silk pocket square and presses it to my wound.
My gaze latches onto the smoking remains of the casket. Something about it is all wrong. I blink, my head swimming from all the adrenaline, and probably some after effects of the explosion.
An explosion that was only strong enough to create a hole in one side of the coffin. As far as I can tell, no one was killed, only hurt.
Was that on purpose?
Why plant a bomb to scare everyone instead of killing them?
Then I realize what’s wrong with the coffin—it’s empty.
No smoking corpse. No remains of any kind. It’s been empty the whole time and someone wanted everyone else to know about it.
No Julius. Is he even dead?
CHAPTER 47
