––––––––

STANDING STOCK-STILL as Tez exits the elevator wearing a rumpled brown trench coat, I’m stunned silent for a millisecond before barking, “How did you get up here?” And I glance at the counter where my cherry-red purse that holds my gun lies.

His narrowing gaze directs to the phone in my hand.

Scared, I blurt out, “I just pushed the panic button”—I signal toward the corner of the counter that he can’t see—“and someone will be up here within a minute.”

Unfortunately, he advances on me, so I shift backward when he grips the counter and checks the edge, seeing nothing but black granite.

He reveals his slightly yellow teeth. “No, you didn’t.” And he skulks forward, forcing me around the couch to pass the long oak dinner table.

“What do you want?” I demand, voice shaking as I edge backward around the other end of the U-shaped couch to make a circle, needing to end at my purse that’s sitting on the kitchen island.

“I thought you wanted to know how I got up here? Stop moving!” he bellows, and I freeze beside the floor-to-ceiling windows where the clouds furiously lumber by with him five steps away from me. “Your receptionist was dumb enough to leave the desk unattended for a few seconds, and that’s all I needed. Although I did have to stake out the area for hours. I need to talk to you. Give me your phone.”

“No. Why?”

A ghost of a devious scowl curves his mouth. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way. Give. Me. Your. Phone.”

Hesitating, I grip the device, my heartbeat drumming in my ears.

“Slide it over to me,” he says angrily, so I bend low to set my phone on the floor and rise again before kicking it forward.

He picks it up when it reaches him and swipes the screen, watching me the entire time. Then I see him clicking on the screen as he reveals, “Did you think I didn’t feel you take my phone, Fallon? That wasn’t smart. Though you are smarter than I thought. But you’ve interfered with the plan and that’s speeded things up. I deleted the shot you took of my phone, but I see you called Mr. Rudd and hung up, I suppose, because the length of the call is only two seconds. Thank god, because your interference will get me killed!”

Oh, Mr. Rudd. It’s someone in power.

Then he holds up my screen, calling himself and hanging up. “This is just insurance.”

“For what?”

“So that it seems like you called me for a meet,” he explains.

“What are you talking about?”

“Let’s not play games anymore. You did figure most of it out. Well, more than the Syndicate did anyway.”

A feeling of triumph rears up inside me, trailed by confusion. “What?”

“I can help you, but you need to help me in return.” He leans down and slides my phone backward to skid across the floor and hit the other end of the window, far away from us. “I need the footage of John Rudd that was made at the underground sex club – where does the Syndicate stash that?”

I open my mouth, then close it, and then I spit, “Why do you need that and how the hell should I know? You’re blackmailing me?”

“Yes,” he retorts, rolling his eyes as if I’m an idiot.

“Oh, my god.” The truth burns into me. “You set up the attack in the alley and spoofed that message just to blackmail me for John Rudd?” My stomach turns in a nauseating flop.

He acts more spiteful with every passing second. “I had no choice! I was forced to do this to save my own life!”

“Who is John Rudd?”

“The guy up for Supreme Court associate justice.”

“What’s on the footage?” I buy time and inch backward bit by bit as he paces back and forth, evidently nervous himself.

“Does it matter? Can you get it?”

“Maybe,” I lie, trying to school my expression in the same manner Luca does and hide my fear. “But I’ll need to know what I’m looking for.”

He’s silent for so long it worries me that he sees right through me, but eventually, he answers, “It’s him in a threesome with a woman and another man.”

“And he doesn’t want a scandal?” I put in.

“Of course he doesn’t.”

“So how do you know him?”

He starts to reply yet stops himself. “What’s with all the questions?”

“I’d like to know what I’m getting myself into. I could just tell Luca.”

“You think he’ll believe you? I erased the message and every trace of it,” he brags, divulging his scheme. “Rudd was targeting one of the members to execute his precisely mapped-out plan, and I was the unlucky one he selected. After I sent the spoof message, I hacked your phone and deleted it. Rudd hired the attacker to scare you and me as well since he told me at first that no one would get hurt. And when we ran into each other on the tenth of January, I changed the settings so that Henry couldn’t tell your phone had been hacked. Then, when you came to the club, I had to fuck with you again and told you it had been messed with and everything had been erased. And I did all of this because Rudd is on my back and says he needs the footage ASAP! He even let his own brother get killed by the mafia and did nothing about it in order to ensure there wasn’t a scandal!”

So the bar owner was Rudd’s sibling. Jesus, screwed up family.

Look who’s talking.

“Rudd is now after me and will kill me if I don’t get what he wants, and you’re my best option. Only Henry, Luca, and Adriano know where the footage of the sex club is stored and I can’t find it, so you need to grill Luca and inform me so that I can hand the only copy over to Rudd and he’ll leave me alone.”

“Did he contact you after the failed raid?”

He throws up his hands in frustration and unintentionally discloses, “No! I was part of the stakeout at the raid where we first tried to find the footage, but you caught me before we even started, so I had to save you or else the Syndicate would’ve thrown me out and I would’ve been a dead man anyway. If Rudd doesn’t get his footage, he’ll execute me and just find another man to threaten into doing his dirty work. The Syndicate will never be rid of him.”

“Why are you so scared of him?”

“Because, like the Syndicate, he can make people disappear too. And I’ve worked too damn hard to secure this position within the team to let some judge who needs some footage ruin it! If Rudd has the recording, he’ll stay away from the Syndicate.”

What a coward. He’d deceive anyone to save his own ass.

“But how can you help me then?”

“If you get me the recording, I’ll give you proof that your phone was hacked, and we’ll pin it on another soldier. Then we can move on from this fucking mess, both alive.”

Are you kidding me? My son was harmed due to his stunt, and he’s made me question everything and everyone. He’s pushed Luca away from me with his thorough strategy. Venomous thoughts invade my brain.

“How does Rudd even know there is footage?” I ask.

“He overheard one of the girls talk about it right before the sex club closed, so he’s afraid it will come back to haunt him, of course. Neither of us has a choice anymore. It’s our only way to get out of this shit.”

As my mind hazes with all the new pieces of information, I move left but he mirrors my action, ordering, “Don’t move! Just think about it. How are you ever going to get Luca’s trust back? You seem like the crazy one because I kept fucking with your phone.”

My palms become sweaty as I bite through my rage and say, “How do I go about it?”

His brows rise in astonishment. “You have to probe Luca for the info.”

God, he underestimates Luca. That’ll never work. Nonetheless, I inhale an encouraging breath.

“Okay, I’ll talk to Luca,” I say to get him out of my home as he holds my stare.

I palm my forehead, pretending to be flustered and spin around, walking toward the island, and as I reach the corner, I turn back to him. “When do we meet? Or do I call you if I know more?”

Frowning, he strides closer and sees me moving my hand to reach for my purse, so I stop before he glances at it. Then, all of a sudden, he lunges forward, and I dash to the side to grab my bag. He collapses on my back, pushing the air out of my lungs and sliding the purse toward the edge of the counter where it lingers.

“Get off me!” I yell when he tries to capture my flailing arms and pull them back to incapacitate me.

As I jerk my body, he grumbles, “If you don’t do this, we’re both dead, Fallon!”

“Fuck you!” With all my strength, I hurl him off and stretch my arm to touch my purse, but he grips my hair that’s tied into a bun and tugs me back and up.

“Ow!” My hands shoot to my hair as I straighten and force us backward, hurling him against the couch so fast that we both topple backward, over the tall back, and he releases my hair as we fall on the floor. Rolling away from him, I surge up before he does and run around the couch, loose strands of hair obscuring my vision. He grasps my ankles, making me collapse forward, but I break my fall with my hands as my knees bang on the floor. I crane my neck to see him crawling toward me lightning fast and grabbing a fistful of my hair again, stretching my throat while we both breathe raggedly.

“Fuck! Why can’t you just cooperate?”

“Because you made a fucking mess, idiot!” I yell, and his features sharpen as his nostrils flare. “You want to stay within the Syndicate but you aid an enemy! You’re the moron here!”

He recoils for a moment, and then hatred clouds his features. “Am I the moron? I managed to fuck with you. And I’ve tried to offer a solution, but if you won’t help me, I’ll find another member to blackmail. I should’ve targeted Cam or Mary; you’re too cunning!” he says, sitting on my back while I buck.

“Fuck! Ah! You won’t get away with this!” I try to roll over as he lets go of my hair and backhands my cheek so hard that my head flies to the side, and I see stars for a second while being pressed on my stomach as he curses a string of profanities.

I lift my hips and he loses his balance, so I manage to turn over, and then, as I’ve learned during kickboxing lessons, I kick him in the softest part of his stomach to heave him off me. He falls backward with a bang, his head almost hitting the couch as I scramble up.

Sprinting to the island, I dig into my purse for my Smith & Wesson and bring it up with both hands just when Tez jumps up and comes at me.

“Stop! Or I’ll shoot!” I warn, making his palms fly up.

“You need me as much as I need you!”

“Shut up!” I yell because I need to assemble my rampant thoughts.

Although I’m storming with rage as I hold his nasty gaze. I lean to the side without taking my eyes off him and search for the silencer in my purse until I feel the cold metal and screw it on, my finger continuously on the trigger.

His eyes widen so that the whites are entirely visible. “Think about what the consequences will be. If you shoot, the only person who can clear things up for you will be gone!”

“No,” I counter as memories of my family that’s breaking apart invade me and I feel stronger with my weapon. “You didn’t think things through. You’ve confessed so much of your plan to me that you gave me the missing pieces of the puzzle. I have Rudd’s number, and I can support my story now with the footage.”

“No one will believe you,” he says arrogantly.

“They will now. See, if I have just one shred of evidence, they’ll back me. You forget that I rank much higher than you as the underboss’s wife. You’re just an unofficial member who kisses ass to management.”

Clenching his jaw, he takes one step closer, but luckily, there are still several feet between us.

“Don’t move,” I throw back his own words.

Aggravated, he glances at the grey afternoon sky and then suddenly springs forward. “You’re not going to shoot. Put it down.”

Everyone keeps underestimating me, and I panic when he doesn’t stop as he quickly approaches me. Then, without hesitating once, I pull the trigger. A soft thud releases and hits the side of his stomach, red infusing his trench coat as he wobbles sideways, staring at me with shock. His palm flies to his bloodied waist when he stumbles over the armrest of the couch and then tumbles back, banging the back of his head onto the edge of the oak coffee table to drop between the two pieces of furniture.

“Oh, fuck!” I murmur with shaking arms, still pointing my revolver as I creep forward.

His motionless frame lies there with eyes closed, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. Terrified, I don’t dare to touch him, even though it looks like he’s dead.

I can hear my panicked breaths roaring in my eardrums as I stand with trembling legs and the gun drops from my grasp, hitting the hardwood floor with a loud clunk. In complete disbelief, I gape at the body that’s sprawled by the couch, its beige fabric splattered with crimson streaks, and the stench of gunpowder infuses the air as I wipe the sweat from my upper lip.

“Oh my god!” Clutching my hair with my hands, I edge backward, away from the horrific crime scene, not knowing what to do. Not even Luca will be able to help me now.

Absolutely freaked, I run past the couch and go left down the hall, but when I reach our master bedroom, the elevator swooshes open and I stop.

Luca steps out and turns right into the kitchen, scrubbing a palm over his square, neatly trimmed jaw as he flings his keys onto the island. As always, his muscular, six-foot frame radiates power and control and his disheveled dark hair topples over his forehead, giving him a forbidding look.

Glancing to the side, he spots the blood on the couch cushions and freezes. Then, with infinite slowness, his gaze moves up and he looks down the hall to where I nervously stand in the doorway of our room. Our eyes meet, and his hard stare doesn’t release me from its hold.

Taking one step forward, he peeks between the couch and coffee table before his unrelenting glare lands back on me and he advances toward me, barking, “What have you done?!”

On instinct, I inch backward into the bedroom, but he grips my upper arms and lifts me to my tiptoes, repeating, “Fallon, what did you do?!”

My vision blurs as I say, “I-I had to defend myself! I’m innocent!”

Even though I’m not short, he towers over me, and as I smell his familiar citrus scent, I clench my fists to keep from pushing my hands into the V of his dress shirt, fighting the pull I feel toward him.

“And I’ve told you to obey me!” He releases me as if I’ve burned him, but neither of us moves as he ignores my profession of innocence.

I’m so tired of him being the underboss these days – constantly. The man who explains himself to no one yet expects everyone to submit to him.

His deep voice exudes sensuality as it skitters over my flesh, until his tone becomes dangerously low when he adds, “I don’t know what to do with you anymore...” Anger sweeps across his face as he glowers at me, and then all the sorrow of the past few weeks blisters to the surface while his vivid green eyes bore into me. “You have no idea what you’ve done, Fallon!” Spinning around, he moves to the vanity and looks at me in the mirror, clenching his jaw before swiping everything off, his tightly leashed self-control gone.

He isn’t the man who saved me and took care of me anymore. He’s no longer the man who promised to love me for the rest of my life and beyond on our wedding day.

“What are you going to do?” I ask hesitantly.

Turning around, he rubs a hand down his mouth and states resolutely, “You’re going to the Syndicate.”

“No!” Without thinking, I barge out of the room, hearing him curse when I escape.

“Fallon!” he roars and comes after me down the hall.

But I dash into the living room, jumping over the couch and snatching the revolver from the floor before racing across the room to the front door with him close behind.

When I reach the elevator, I press the button, swivel around, and aim the gun at Luca’s forehead, already knowing I’m screwed because I murdered a Syndicate member.

He stops dead in his tracks at first but then inches forward and orders in a lethal tone, “Lower the gun.”