15. Nik

CHAPTER 15

Nik

The implication in this asshole's words makes my temper rise sharply, but before I can step in, Brie is already responding to him in a hard, venomous voice.

"Listen carefully, Vince," she says, loud enough for those around to hear, just as he made sure they heard his offer. "If you think for one second that I need you or anyone else to give me status or power, you're mistaken. I take what I want. And I definitely don't want you."

His face darkens. "You wanna watch that mouth, Breezy. It's a pretty mouth, but one day some guy might take offense at what's coming out of it."

That's a direct threat. I'm not the only one who thinks so, either, judging by the sudden quiet in our immediate vicinity as people listen in.

"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings , Vince," Brie spits. "But hear me loud and clear: you have nothing I want or need. Now go nurse your bruised ego. I have a poker hand with the real players in this town."

She stalks off before he can respond, and I hurry after her.

But I'm proud of her. God, I'm so proud of her that I can't stifle the grin on my face.

Brie takes her place at one of the poker tables and I stand behind her, watching the other players, watching the room, watching Vince Sabatelli as he mutters and scowls with his cronies in a corner.

And she's good at poker, too. Brie Colombo is very good player; her face is a mask, giving nothing away as she raises, calls, or folds with practiced ease.

The game intensifies, and Brie goes head-to-head with a burly man I recognize as the head of a bratva group. Her hand is strong—I can see it in the way she shakes back her hair, a tell so subtle I doubt anyone else notices. She could take him for everything he's worth.

But she doesn't.

Instead, she folds gracefully, allowing him to win. She gives a rueful laugh as the bratva boss grins over his winnings, and leaves the table for a break. As she stands at the bar, I lean in close.

"Why'd you let him win? You had him."

"He's an important ally to the Colombo Family," she says offhandedly, as if explaining why she chose red wine over white. "It's not worth a hand of poker to put that friendship in danger, not while our leadership is—well. In question."

I'm about to respond when a commotion erupts nearby. Larry Caruso's face is flushed with anger as he faces off against Vince Sabatelli. "You think you can just waltz up and take over?" Larry snarls. "You ain't got what it takes, Vince. You're all talk and no action."

Vince's eyes narrow dangerously. "Watch your mouth, old man. Times have changed, and antiques like you ain't worth so much these days."

"At least I hold with tradition. You want to recruit a bunch of?—"

Before I can stop her, Brie is there already, inserting herself between the two men with a bright smile.

"Gentlemen," she says, her voice carrying just the right mix of authority and charm. "I'm sure you'll agree this isn't the place for a squabble. Why don't we kiss and make up, and then get back to the fun?"

The effect is immediate. Both men back down, muttering apologies and shooting each other dark looks. But the fire's out, at least for now.

And Brie Colombo has shown again that she's a force to be reckoned with.

"Don't forget," mutters a voice in my ear.

"I won't," I snap back, and move away from the Consortium messenger.

I've been summoned by Eva Novak tomorrow morning to report on what I've learned about Brie and the Colombos so far. And I can't think of anything I'd rather do less.

As we make our way to the elevator later that night, Brie leans in close. "So now you see the kind of problems Frank is dealing with."

I snort. "He doesn't seem to be dealing with them—he's leaving it up to you. Sabatelli's a sleaze, and Caruso doesn't think before he acts."

"It's more than that," she sighs, giving me a side-eye. "Well," she goes on, "I guess maybe it's common knowledge, so it doesn't matter if Eva Novak finds out. But before he was killed, Terry was looking to make some changes to the Family. Recruit from, uh, outside , if you get what I mean."

"Non-Italians," I say. "It was in the dossier the Consortium gave out," I add, to make her feel better about me knowing.

Brie gives a grim smile of acknowledgment. "The Family hasn't had any new blood for a while. Terry wanted to promote some of the associates we already have to full membership. Good and loyal men, but not necessarily of Italian blood. It wasn't a popular initiative in some circles."

"I bet Caruso threw a tantrum," I say with a grin.

"He sure did. Vince Sabatelli seemed to like the idea, though. So you see, there's a little more at stake here with the new Don. The Family could change forever—or die out, depending on which of them gets the job."

We reach the private elevator, only to find an "Out of Order" sign plastered across its gleaming doors. Brie ignores it, stabbing with frustration at the button.

"Guess it's the stairs, princess," I tell her.

"Not in these shoes," she snorts. But just then, the next elevator along dings open. A waiter stands inside, a covered tray balanced on one hand.

"Going up, ma'am?" he asks Brie with a polite smile.

Brie steps forward, swiping her keycard automatically to allow access to her specially designated floor, and alarm bells start ringing in my head. Something's off.

The waiter presses the Close Doors button, and I only just manage to slide in, staring at him.

"I'll be glad to get to bed tonight," Brie is saying as the doors slide shut. "It's been a long?—"

That's when it happens. Time slows to a crawl for me as the waiter drops his tray, the cloche clattering to the floor. In its place in his hand is a wicked-looking knife, aimed straight at Brie's heart.

I thrust the heel of my hand out hard, catching the would-be assassin in the chest. He stumbles back but recovers quickly, slashing the knife through the air where Brie's throat was a second ago—but I've already shoved her behind me into the corner of the elevator.

The assassin lunges forward again, and I barely manage to deflect the knife with my left forearm. I drive my right fist into his solar plexus, feeling the whoosh of air as it leaves his lungs, and then I twist as the blade whistles past my ear.

I use the movement to my advantage, grabbing his wrist as I duck and slamming it against the wall. The knife clatters to the floor. I bring my knee up, hard and fast, and he doubles over with a grunt of pain. My fist connects with his face, once, twice, three times—and he's out cold.

The elevator doors slide open with a cheerful ding that seems absurdly out of place. Frank Caruso is standing there, and he pulls his gun as fast as his eyes widen. I shout for Frank to hold, but it's too late.

He opens fire.

The assassin jerks as the bullets tear into him, then goes still. Anger surges through me. "Goddammit!" I snarl. "We needed him alive for questioning!"

"What the fuck happened?" he bellows, turning the gun on me.

I ignore him and turn to Brie, my anger dissipating as I take in her face. She's pale except for a splatter of red on her cheek, her eyes wide, hands shaking where they cover her ears.

I wrap an arm around her shoulders, steering her quickly past Frank Colombo and toward the stairs.

"It's okay," I murmur. "I've got you. You're safe now." I take the keycard from her and open the door of her suite myself, and only then do I realize Frank Colombo isn't following.

He's standing there at the elevator with a foot in the door to keep it from closing, talking furiously on his cell phone. I assume he's calling a fixer. Good.

But how convenient that he was standing there in the first place, waiting for the elevator. Waiting to see the result of his paid hit?

Or was it just coincidence?

"Nik," Brie whispers, and she slumps against the wall. "I…"

I grab her and pull her into my arms. "I've got you," I tell her fiercely. "I've got you."

Her arms wind around my neck. She looks up into my face, and I'm relieved to see the fear give way to rationality as she comes back to her senses.

"Nik." This time, when she says my name, there's a whole new inflection to it. She sways forward a little, her lips inches from mine. "Kiss me," she breathes. "Please?"

I want to kiss her more than I've wanted anything else in my whole life.

But from somewhere in the deepest region of my soul, I drag up my self-control and turn my face aside, before spinning Brie firmly by the shoulders and walking her into the living room of her suite. "Let's get you sitting down," I say diplomatically. "You've had…a shock."

I've just got her on the sofa when the suite door lock makes its familiar zipping noise and then the door slams open. I instinctively step in front of Brie, gun in hand. Frank Colombo barges into the room, followed closely by Holden, Vince, and Larry. Their expressions are a mix of shock, anger, and confusion.

"What the fuck happened?" Frank booms, repeating the same question as before.

I don't lower my guard as more Colombo men pour into the suite. Larry barks orders, and they start searching the place, overturning furniture and tearing through drawers.

"Everyone needs to calm down," I call out. But I'm drowned out by the chaos erupting around us.

I glance at Brie. She's still pale, her eyes wide, flinching as Frank starts shouting again. "We need to know what happened, now!"

Holden pushes past the others. "Brie, are you okay?"

She doesn't answer, her gaze unfocused. I've seen that look before—it's shock setting in. I need to get her out of here.

"Come on," I murmur, gently guiding Brie toward the bedroom. Holden follows, but I don't bother trying to kick him out. Brie could use a friend right now.

"Where do you think you're going?" Caruso snarls. "Breezy stays right here where we can see her. We got questions need answering!"

Irritation makes my tone sharp. "I'll get her cleaned up and calmed down. Then you can ask your questions."

Vince steps forward, jabbing a finger in my direction. "This isn't your fucking business, Consortium bitch. Get the fuck out!"

I feel my jaw clench, anger rising in my chest. This asshole has some nerve. "If anyone needs to get the fuck away from Brie, it's you, Sabatelli."

The room goes dead silent. All eyes are on me and Vince.

"The fuck you talking about?" Vince snarls. "Get outta here. This is Family business."

"You threatened Brie tonight," I say loudly. "I heard you, and I wasn't the only one."

Vince pauses slightly before he regains his composure. "You're full of shit. I didn't?—"

"She's right." Larry's gravelly voice cuts through the murmurs. "I heard you too, Vince. I was standing right there. You told Brie she'd better watch her mouth or she might regret it."

The atmosphere in the room shifts instantly. Suspicion hangs heavy in the air as the other men eye Vince warily.

Larry's expression hardens. "You know, I think we need to have a little chat, Vince. Privately." He nods to two of his men. "Put him in a room. I'll be there soon."

"Fuck you," Vince snarls. "Don't fucking touch me," he adds, as Larry's men grab him. And then Vince's cool facade cracks. "You can't do this, Larry. You'll regret this! He's trying to stitch me up, you hear me?"

But Larry just waves his hand dismissively as his men drag Vince out, his threats echoing down the hallway.

Frank stands there, mouth agape, before seeming to remember why we're all here. "We still need to talk to Brie."

I step fully in front of the doorway and shake my head firmly. "Brie's in shock. She needs a shower—she's covered in blood, and her ears are probably ringing from you shooting into a confined space." You fucking moron , I add in my own mind.

But is he a fucking moron? Or was silencing someone who could finger him after another failed assassination attempt?

Larry steps forward, his tone condescending now as Vince's shouts die away in the distance. "Listen, sweetheart, we appreciate your help, but we'll take care of Brie from here."

I feel my temper flaring again. Who the fuck does this guy think he is? "If you want to talk to Brie right now," I snarl, "you'll have to go through me."

"And me," comes a firm voice from behind. We all turn to see Holden in the bedroom doorway, arms folded across his chest. He's not that threatening, but I appreciate the backup.

Frank looks at Holden. "Is she alright? I came up to talk to her, see how she's holding up…and jeez, then all this happened."

Holden's gaze is steely. "Of course she's not alright, Frank. And right now, she only wants me with her—" he pauses, glancing at me "—and Nik."

It's not exactly a ringing endorsement, but it's enough for Frank. He nods to Larry. "We'll come back later. I need to deal with the cops downstairs anyway—they're already here, some damn guest called them about the gunfire."

Just as the Colombos finish filing out, a vaguely familiar young man appears in the doorway, looking shell-shocked. "Was that Mr. Sabatelli screaming?" he squeaks. "It sure sounded like?—"

"Who the hell are you?" Frank snarls, hustling him back against the wall in the hallway.

The guy swallows hard, and that's how I recognize him, that bobbing throat. "I, uh, I work security for the casino," he squeaks. "And I have something for Mrs. Colombo." He sees Holden and holds it out toward him, but I move faster, snatching the object from his hand before Holden can reach it.

"Thanks," I say curtly, then slam the door in Frank's face.

Holden follows me back to the bedroom, and Brie looks up as we enter, her eyes focusing on the flash drive in my fingers that I hold up for her to see.

"What's that?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"The security footage from the night of your husband's murder."