“In more ways than one, I imagine, Miss Carter?” the man says. Calculating brown eyes meet mine. I’m almost certain he’s referring to all the press coverage of the so-called engagement. And then the wedding that never transpired. People like this would not have missed any of it. I should have known that little publicity stunt would come back to bite me.
I give a shrug. “It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.”
“Especially when she’s clearly lost it,” Mark adds. I smile politely. “Anyhow,” he goes on, “Andrea can put that all behind her now and focus on our relationship, can’t you, darling?” He brushes my cheek.Relationship?“And I doubt we’ll need to worry about Ricci much more. Since our mutualfriendhad a little accident recently.”
I feel myself go rigid.
What accident?
“Poor Mateo had a run-in with some nasty characters,” Mark goes on, then raises his wineglass and looks at me over the rim as he takes a sip. “Of course, this is a dangerous city. You never know who you might run into in a dark alley.” When he sets the glass down and smiles at me, I see that his teeth are stained by the red wine.
“How unfortunate for him,” the man says. I still have no idea what his name is. It’s obvious that Mark has no interest in including me in this circle. I’m simply here as some sort of trophy. Or maybe to test me.
“Unfortunate for sure,” Mark agrees. “He went down squealing like the pig that he is.” He cocks his head at me. “Or so I hear.”
“Now that is something I wish I could have witnessed.” There’s laughter around the table. I manage to squeeze out another smile. My heart is shattering.
“Me too,” says Mark. “It’s always good to know that people get what they deserve. Fucking pussy. Should know better than to put his hands on something that belongs to me.” Mark’s fingers are sliding up my leg again and I cringe. Though it’s not only because of the unwanted contact.
Oh, God.
They got Mateo. And it’s my fault.
What did they do to him?
Chapter 13
Andy Carter
I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor of my apartment, the pieces of my Glock spread out on a towel in front of me. I’m in a loose t-shirt and soft cotton shorts. I’ve just had a bath – or at least attempted a wash in the tiny basin in my so-called bathroom. Now it’s my gun’s turn. I take each piece and clean it carefully, almost obsessively, as I run through the events of the evening.
Mateo…
Dear God, what did they do?
Half of me wants to speak to him so desperately. Or maybe contact Nikki to ask if he’s okay. But I saw how fast Mark found me after I called him. I have no doubt the Caraldis would have the same resources at their disposal. They’ll find me and stop me. I can’t have that. I’m close. So close.
Tonight was so frustrating. Mark had wanted me to leave the restaurant with him, but the man who’d been speaking to us had requested further meetings. Probably wanted to discuss business without me around. I took off like a rocket. Sitting beside him all night had been like driving splinters into my nailbeds.
As for his touch…
I fight down nausea. The flesh of my inner thighs is still pink from where I scoured it with soap and a scrubbing brush when I got home from dinner. I would have flushed my pussy out with bleach if I could have. The memory of his fingers there still makes me shudder.
Yet, maybe if I’d gone home with him, this would be over by now. I might have had my chance to cut his throat then. Though I doubt it. Mark’s still too suspicious of me. Why wouldn’t he be? I may have walked out on Mateo, but the last time I saw this man, he was being dragged out of my red-carpet engagement party. Since then, I’ve been mingling with some of his most bitter rivals. Living with an ex-FBI agent. He’d be an absolute fool not to doubt my intentions now that I’ve popped up again, asking to speak to him.
And he’d be right. I plan to kill him.
I have to find a way to win him over. Ease his suspicions. Figure out how to get close enough to end him. It may not be with my little Glock friend. Or even with the blades I had hidden in my hair tonight. But poison might do it.
I could slip something into his glass; fuck, the man drinks like a fish, so that would work. Seeing him shuddering in agony, reaching out to me, knowing that I was the one who did it. That would still be satisfying. He’d hang on long enough for me to tell him exactly why I’m ending his existence.
Yes. Poison. I could definitely do that more easily. But he’s still going to expect me to have sex with him. I can’t see a way out of it. Not if I’m going to succeed in my plans to avenge Kyle.
Kyle…I’ll do it for you…I swear it!
Thinking about him makes my heart ache. I reassemble the Glock, stow it under my pillow, then head to the shelf where I keep the memory box. It hurts so much, but I have to hang onto this pain. Have to relive those last months of his life.
Yet again, I go through the journal. I have most of it memorized now. More begins to make sense. Things that make me think Mateo’s theory may have had some merit. The excursions Kyle and my father took. My mother would say they were “boys” bonding trips. Fishing or golfing. She must have been lying. Toward the end, they were away so often. Kyle returning subdued and sullen.
