“Just give her the package,” he demanded.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Enzo said.
“You have two guns pointed at you,” the man said. “You don’t have a choice.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Mitch said, stepping in behind him.
Kathleen was certain Mitch had a gun at the man’s back and equally certain he hadn’t seen the man’s face yet.
“Drop your gun,” Mitch growled.
“Mitch,” Logan said quietly, shaking his head.
Mitch frowned, then shifted to the side to get a better look at the man he was holding at gunpoint.
“Son of a bitch,” he breathed.
That was when the woman lunged.
She went for Enzo’s hand, fingers scraping for the treasure. Enzo reacted instantly, jerking his arm up and away. The woman’s footing slipped on the gravel, and she went down hard, cursing as she fell.
“Mackie!” the man barked.
“I’m fine, Griff,” she snapped, already pushing herself upright. “Worth a try.”
She gave a quick shrug and a half-smile.
Something in Kathleen cracked.
A sound escaped her before she could stop it, not a laugh exactly. More like air being forced out of lungs that had been holding it too long. Exhaustion. Adrenaline. The sheer absurdity of the situation pressing down all at once.
“Glad you’re enjoying this,” Enzo growled.
Kathleen dragged a hand over her face. “I’m not,” she shot back. “I’m just… Look at us.” Her voice wobbled, then steadied. “We’re standing in one of the most beautiful palace gardenson the planet, guns out, threatening each other, we’re both dripping wet, and then there’s you with your arm in the air like we’re seven-year-olds playing keep-away. It’s either laugh or fall apart.”
Enzo smirked in response.
She exhaled hard. “Who are you people, and where’s your other brother?”
“Other brother?” Logan echoed, eyebrows shooting up.
Kathleen shrugged. “He looks like Mitch, so I’m guessing he’s theirs. He’s the one who mugged me.” She looked back at the man. “Griff, right? Is that short for something?”
Silence.
“Where’s your other brother?” she demanded.
More silence.
The last thread of humor drained out of her, leaving only bone-deep fatigue. “Okay,” she said flatly. “Just so you know, we’ve got more people nearby, and one more gun isn’t tipping the scales. We’re drawing a lot of attention, and any second now, a guard is going to wander over. So how about we stop posturing and lay our cards on the table?”
“The lady has a point,” Enzo said.
The woman glanced at her brother, then shrugged again. “Fine.”
“Do you work for Vitale or Carlotta?” Enzo asked.
Griff hesitated. “Both.”
