12. Nik

CHAPTER 12

Nik

I don't know what I was expecting from Brie Colombo, but it sure wasn't that . "What are you talking about? Isn't your Family taking care of the investigation?"

"I've realized I can't trust anyone in the Family. And Frank—bless him—is useless, either by nature or by design. You're the only person in this city who knows the real me these days, except Holden, and he's dealing with his own grief. So you're it, Nik. You need to help me find justice for Terry."

I tilt my head, studying her. There's so much more to this woman than meets the eye. "Justice? Or vengeance?"

A hard edge creeps into her voice. "They're one and the same. Before I have to stand aside for the successor, I want to do right by Terry and find his killer. And I know you can help, because…well, because you did the same for your father."

I ignore that, though it does explain why she kept bringing it up. "Frank won't like me sniffing around and asking questions."

Brie scoffs. "Frank is more interested in keeping the Family stable. He'd rather sweep this under the rug than risk upsetting the balance of power, just like he'd rather I sign that agreement with the Consortium so we don't rock the boat." She takes a step closer, her perfume—expensive and intoxicating, just like her—filling my senses. "And it won't be you asking the questions. You'll just be there as backup. And here's the sweetener, Nik. If you'll help me, I'll sign the original agreement with the Consortium, inflated prices and all. I'll even tell Eva it's thanks to you that I'm signing."

The offer is tempting. Eva was pretty pissed off with me back in the meeting room, even as I tried to explain I was just playing along with Brie Colombo, making her trust me. But Eva would be delighted if I got Brie to sign that deal, and it could mean big things for me. But I can't let Brie know that, so I force a dismissive tone. "I don't need some Mob widow putting in a word for me. I'll earn my place on my own."

To my shock, Brie reaches out and takes my hands in hers. "Do you want me to get on my knees and beg? Because I will. I need you, Nik. I need your help. There's no one else I can ask. And if there's one thing I know about the Consortium, it's that they like to stay neutral. And you know what? You can tell your boss all about this if you like, because I know she'll leave it up to the Colombo Family to sort it out."

The image of her on her knees before me, those perfectly painted lips parting as she leans forward, flashes through my mind before I can stop it. I push it away, focusing on the task at hand. "What about Holden? Isn't he your bestie or something?"

"Holden wouldn't be able to ask the kind of questions we can without raising suspicion. You're part of the Consortium, and I'm Terry's widow. We have both access and excuses that he doesn't."

I weigh my options. On one hand, getting involved in this Colombo Family business could be dangerous for the Consortium—and for me.

Because Brie is right. Eva's number one rule for the Consortium is to stay neutral. No interference, no personal relationships with clients. She likes information, but only as it pertains to her own business affairs.

And if Brie does sign the agreement, that would impress Eva enough to make her forget everything else. That original deal is a fucking goldmine.

And if I'm being honest, there's a part of me that's intrigued by the mystery of who killed this powerful Don in his own casino…

And, okay, I'm also intrigued by Brie.

"Fine," I say. "Where do we start?"

Relief floods Brie's face, quickly replaced by determination. "We'll start with Phil Reynolds. At the funeral, he said he had something he wanted to talk to me about. I don't know if it has something to do with Terry's death, but maybe…"

"We'd better get to him before a hitman does, in that case. But after that, you need to tell me everything you know about your husband's murder."

We spot Phil Reynolds near the craps tables on the main floor, his tall frame and neatly-styled dark hair standing out among the crowd. He's talking to a pit boss, but his eyes are constantly moving, taking in every detail of his domain. As we approach, he notices us and excuses himself from the conversation.

"Mrs. Colombo," he greets Brie with a nod, then turns to me. "Ms. Kusek. What can I do for you?"

"It's what I can do for you, Phil. You said you wanted to talk to me. Is now a good time?"

Reynolds' expression doesn't change, but I catch the slight tightening of his jaw. "I wanted to speak in closest confidence to you, Mrs. Colombo. Alone," he adds, as though we didn't get it.

"You may consider me alone. Ms. Kusek here has been sworn to secrecy."

Reynolds looks skeptical, but I'm curious to note that he gives in to Brie's insistence. "Of course," he says. "My office?"

We follow him through the labyrinth of gaming tables and slot machines, the noise gradually fading as we enter the back corridors of the casino. Phil's office is a stark contrast to the casino floor, made up of sleek lines and muted colors. As soon as the door closes behind us, he moves to the windows, pulling the internal blinds shut.

I position myself near the door, my back to the wall, as Phil walks to his desk and switches on a small radio. The soft strains of jazz fill the room, providing a cover for our conversation.

This guy is careful . I'm starting to see why he's lasted so long in this place despite not being a Family man.

Phil leans against his desk, his voice low, and gets straight to it. "I've noticed something off about the casino's books."

Brie's eyebrows draw together. "Off how?"

"Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to cover it up, but they're skimming off the top. I only caught it because I was cross-checking some specific numbers from the VIP expenses with the restaurant."

Skimming from a Mob-run casino? That's a death wish if ever I heard one.

"How long has this been going on?" Brie asks.

Phil shakes his head. "A couple of months, maybe. Not long."

"And who else knows about this?"

"That's the thing," Phil says, leaning in closer. "Sophie must have known something was going on. She's too sharp to miss this. Hell, if she didn't…then she's no good at her job. But that's why I wanted to talk to you, Mrs. Colombo. I'm worried that Frank and some of his buddies—they might act first and look at the facts later, if you see what I mean."

He doesn't want Sophie Johnson whacked if he's wrong, is what he means. And the Colombo Family isn't exactly in a calm place right now.

"I'll look into it," Brie says decisively. "Keep this to yourself for now, Phil. We don't want to spook anyone."

Phil nods, relief evident in his eyes. He's glad to pass this hot potato to someone else. Can't say I blame him.

As we exit the office, I guide Brie toward the elevators, away from the prying eyes on the casino floor. Her steps are a little unsteady, and I have the urge to put an arm around her, but she slows for a moment, then seems to regain her poise.

"I'm not sure if that was casino business or Family business. A little of both, I guess. Is it worth asking you to keep it to yourself?"

"I will." For now. "So, who do you think it is?"

"Not here," she murmurs. "Let's go to my dressing room; it's close." I follow her to the room in the back corridors where she keeps her evening gowns and makeup supplies. It smells like powder and flowers and her, and I have to make sure I stay focused. "No cameras or bugs in here," she says as she shuts the door, but just like Reynolds, Brie is cautious. She pulls me into the half-bathroom that comes off the room, turns on the shower as hard as it'll go, and then leans in to whisper to me.

"The Styx Syndicate sent those representatives to Vegas specifically to track down a female assassin. What if it's Sophie?"

I blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift from theft to murder. "Slow down. What are you talking about?"

"Scarlett and Lyssa," Brie explains hurriedly. "They're hunting an assassin. Terry's name was on some list—" She breaks off impatiently. "We should talk to them, tell them about Sophie."

"Hold on. Before we go accusing anyone of anything, I want to know exactly what went down on the day of your husband's murder."

Brie takes a deep breath and then launches into a recap. She was out at the Secret Garden that night, too, she tells me, so she has limited information about what went on. She got back to the casino and was taken aside by Phil Reynolds, who broke the news to her. "No one in the Family thought to do it," she adds bitterly. Frank Colombo had already called in a lawyer, who was getting together a strategy for calling the cops, and then Frank declared that he was going to find the killer himself.

"Has he got any investigatory experience?" I ask, a little bewildered. Frank Colombo didn't seem like a modern-day Sherlock Holmes during the few times I've been around him.

"No, but he was the one who found Terry. And Frank was his cousin, they grew up together—really close. And Frank is Terry's executor, for the will. So it seemed natural at the time…" She trails off.

"But now?" I prompt.

"Now…I don't know."

Nine times out of ten, the person who finds a victim is also the one who made them a victim. But I don't say that. "So what, the cops were never informed?"

"Oh, of course they were," Brie says vaguely. "But the lawyer kept them on a leash. And we have a few key allies in the right places," she adds delicately. "So a little greasing of palms made them back off pretty fast. But since then, Frank will barely tell me anything. I can't even get a sense of who he's questioned, of who was even here that night…" She trails off.

"He was shot, wasn't he?" I ask gently. She nods. "Do you know where he was shot?"

"H-his heart. With…with his own gun. He kept one in the top drawer of his desk, for personal protection."

"And no one heard the shot?" I ask in disbelief.

"Terry's office was soundproofed. He wanted absolute privacy in there for business." She grabs my arm. "Nik, you tracked down your father's killer. You're—you're smart, and you know how these things work in the Family. Right?"

"I guess," I say.

"So what do we do? How do we find out more information?"

I sigh. "We need to see the security footage from the corridors, see who was around at the right time. That's our first move. And in the meantime, we should find out a little more about Sophie Johnson. What if she's just a thief and not a killer? Hell, what if she's completely innocent?"

Brie nods, biting at her lip. "You're right," she says at last. "Okay. I'll have to somehow persuade Frank to hand over the security footage."

"You can't ask Frank," I say firmly. "He's one of our top suspects."

She stares at me for a moment before closing her eyes and nodding. "I agree. But then how do we get the footage?"

"You go to the security room yourself and ask for it."

Brie looks at me blankly. "I can't just demand the security footage."

I can't help but snort. "Sure you can. You own this place now, don't you?"

"I mean…I guess?"

"Besides, you won't have to demand . Just flutter those fake eyelashes and ask them nicely."

She considers this for a moment, then a slow smile spreads across her face. "I do have an inordinate amount of charm," she says, with no modesty whatsoever. "Let's give it a try."

I like a woman with confidence.

You're here to protect her, not fall for her , I scold myself as we head back out of her dressing room. But the thing is, she's right.

She does have an inordinate amount of charm.