He does. Bags under his eyes, smelling like tequila and cheap weed.
“Haven’t slept,” he barks.
“And whose fault is that?”
“Blame your supply, man, I don’t know.” He wipes a hand across the back of his nose. Crusted nostrils, like he’s been snorting coke for days.
“You’re not supposed to be dipping into our supply.”
He shrugs, chortling out a slow, chugging laugh.
“Yeah, well. They don’t call me ‘sticky fingers’ for nothing.”
I swallow hard and place my hands on his shoulders. He flinches but I just hold him there, steady, looking into his eyes.
“Nico, you have to get your shit together. Something’s going on.”
“Going on with what?”
He snorts and spits in the sink. Lovely.
I grit my teeth and pull up my shirt to show him the jagged scar and stitching. “Somebody fucking shot me, that’s what.”
His eyes widen and he looks genuinely surprised.
“Shit. Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I say quickly, letting my shirt drop back into place. “But we have to find out who did it.”
“What’d he look like?”
I shake my head. “Dunno. He was masked. Drove a muscle car.”
“Diego drives a muscle car,” he says slyly, and I glare at him.
“You can’t possibly be suggesting that Diego is the one who tried to kill me.”
I think about it. Diego hadn’t been there. He’d been back at the cottage, watching Sophia. Orhad he?
No. Diego wouldn’t betray me.
“Who else could it be? He’s the one who knows everything. Things you don’t even tell me,” Nico points out, and he’s right.
Diegodoesknow everything. He’s the only one who does. He knew exactly where I’d be that night, and he moved fast, not slow and stupid like Nico’s friend.
“And you’ve been moving suspicious, anyway,” Nico says. I narrow my eyes at him.
“Suspicious how?”
“Spending all your time doing…whatever it is you’re doing at that cottage.”
The cottage.His words make me freeze, every muscle going stuff.
“How do you know about the cottage?”
Nico snorts. “How do you think I know?”
I grit my teeth, getting closer to Nico. He backs up against the wall, eyes wide and afraid.
