“And thenArcher almost started a war, threatening to send Mr. Harrison six feet under, and I don’t know if you know, but it turns out Mr. Harrison has a much larger, much scarier big brother on Felix’s security team.”
“He…” I search her glowing, ocean-blue eyes. “What?”
“It was guards against guards, and when I say that, I mean twelve of Felix’s men had to hold Stovic down before he killed your husband and pissed off a don. All because Harrison gave you the set of keys that made it possible for you to leave.”
I drop my head back,thunkingit against the headboard, and close my eyes. “I made such a mess.”
“Andthen,” relentless, she pushes on, “Archer took a phone call that made everythingwaymessier. Estefan Cordoza, thatsneaky rat bastard, wanted a word with our second favorite detective.”
Stunned, I whip my gaze back to hers. “Cordoza?”
“He was playing you,” she sighs. “Blaming Archer for Agosti, demanding an autopsy, having men inside the George Stanley. It was all a ruse, and if you were less focused on keeping me away—because you didn’t want me to spoil your secrets—then I could’ve been at that meeting the day Cordoza came to the house. I could’ve told you it was all a game from the outset.”
“What game?” I twist on the bed, tossing my sheet aside and revealing the shirt and shorts I remember falling asleep in last night.Thankfully. “What game are you talking about?”
“Cordoza knows what you did to Agosti.”
My heart seizes and stops, aching and swelling. “What?”
“I can’t know until I’m with him in person, but it’s something I’ve considered since the day you and Archer were shouting at each other in the yard. Archer confirmed my hunch when he called me this morning and had me come here. Soph agrees.”
“Soph agrees towhat?” I shove off the bed and step onto aching, sensitive feet, wincing at the pain, even as I walk straight through it and stalk fifteen steps away. “What the hell is Cordoza playing at?”
“He knew.” She settles back against the headboard, entirely at ease as she extends her toes and shows off her sparkling anklet. “He knew you bonked Agosti. He knew you and Soph had done it together. Soph argues Cordoza put Agosti here,knowingyou would take care of it and his hands would remain clean.”
“He set it up?” I stride back toward the bed. “EstefanCordoza manipulated me into becoming a fucking enforcer for the mafia?”
“He trusted your sense of justice would ensure the removal of a certain unwanted wedding guest.” She lowers her foot and shrugs. “He put you in a position he knew you wouldn’t walk away from, partnered you and Soph together, and pulled the strings that would end another man’s life. Once it was done, he played the part of an outraged city CEO demanding answers.”
“But…” Frustration tears through my system as I throw my hands up. “Why?”
“I suspect it was for the same reasonyouwanted Anthony dead. He was a nasty stain on society who needed to be quashed, but if Cordoza did it himself, he’d have to answer to the city he ruled. Afterwards, he called Archer and told him he knew what you did.”
My head throbs, a deafening symphony of drums pounding at the base of my skull. “He wanted Anthony dead, he wanted me to do it, and then… what? He wanted Archer to know he knew I did it. Why?”
“That’s where the rest of us are stuck.” She laces her fingers together and lays her hands in her lap, her lips curling into a sweet smile as she looks me up and down. “We’re not sure yet. Goosing you and Soph along, having you whack Agosti… the motivation is reasonably easy to see. But calling Archer and telling him a whole freakin’ city was about to come down onyourhead is a little more perplexing.”
“H-he told Archer I was a target?”
She scoffs. “He told Archer you were dead freakin’ meat, because you’re a Malone and therefore, a Malone gonged another family’s patriarch. The rules you thought you were notbreaking were, according to Cordoza, broken, and therefore, Archer had two options: accept your actions as the actions of the whole family, thus declaring war, which would eventually lead to your death, but also, the death of his brothers and his brothers’ wives and that cute little doggy of Christabelle’s, too.”
“But I’m not a Malone!” I cry out. “Not technically. And I ruled it a suicide, anyway. No one outside of us even knows?—”
“Cordoza knows.” Her eyes darken. “He put you where he needed you and played you as if freewill no longer applied. Archer’s second option was to hand you over to Cordoza, thus severing your association with the family and saddling you with the repercussions of your own actions.”
“He wouldn’t—” I gulp. “He didn’t…”
“He would never. So his third, not-at-all-desirable, but better-than-having-you-killed option was to ask you to stay away for a few days. He would make it appear as though the relationship had been severed, Cordoza—still playing his game—promised to do his part in New York, smoothing things over, and in the meantime, Archer had security on you like white on rice.”
“But he?—”
“And then he exploded all over everyone,” she quips. “Fighting with Fletch, fighting with Felix. Cato. Harrison. Stovic.” She swallows, her throat shifting with the action. “Fighting with you. He wasn’t sharing his plan with anyone else, so Fletch was throwing down for you. Cato announced Archer ain’t shit anymore, so he, Cato, would marry you instead.”
I choke on a wet, stupidly tearful laugh and swipe my nose. “Of course he did.”
“Archer threatened to bury him in the orchard with his deadmother,” she rasps, the pain she feels, no doubt a runoff of the pain Cato felt hearing those words. Of the pain Archer felt saying them. “Whatever Cordoza said left Archer paralyzed with fear, and the only thing he knew for sure was that he needed to keep you alive. If that meant burning the world down, including the tenuous relationships he’d been building with his brothers, then that was a sacrifice he would make. But because he was all alone in the things he knew, he was all alone in the pain and terror he felt, and the people hecouldhave relied on…” Her lips quirk into a soft, almost silly smile. “They chose you.”
My face falls, my lips drop into a pout, and my shoulders slump. My entirebeingcollapses in on itself. “He was alone?”
