25. Brie

CHAPTER 25

Brie

As soon as Nik lets me go, I'm heading to the bedroom, but she catches me by the wrist again and pulls me back.

"Oh, no you don't," she says, amused. "You don't get to be a pillow princess today."

"That is outrageous slander!" I say. "Last night you made me do all the work, so?—"

"Don't worry." She's leading me determinedly to the living room. "I'll do most of the work this time. All you'll have to do is admire the view."

I let her pull me to the middle of the room, where she turns me to face her. "This time is a gift," she says. "So I'd better unwrap my present before time runs out." I'm not dressed up today, wearing only a tank top and yoga pants, but the way Nik reverently undresses me, you'd think I was in one of those expensive designer gowns I wear around the Golden Sands. She strips me to my underwear and then takes off my bra, weighing each breast in her hands before thumbing at my nipples.

"Beautiful," she murmurs. "Do you know how goddamn sexy you are, Brie? What am I saying, of course you do." I grin, and then stop grinning as she runs a hand between my thighs, pushing them open. "Are you wet for me yet?"

I'm almost embarrassed by how turned on I am already. "Uh-huh."

She rubs her fingers over my panties, encouraging the damp patch, and smirks. "Mm, I like it when you're eager for it. And you taste so good…I don't want you to miss out on that." I'm not sure what she means, but she keeps fingering me until I forget all about it, working my pussy under the silk and lace of my panties until I can smell myself, hot and damp, rising up between us. "Let's get these off of you," she murmurs, tugging down my now-soaked panties. She balls them up carefully, then slides a hand around the back of my neck. "Open up."

I do, but mostly from surprise, and she takes the opportunity to go ahead and press my own panties into my mouth. I gasp in surprise, inhaling the musky, salty scent of my own arousal.

"Now be a good girl and bend over that couch for me," she orders. I go over on unsteady legs, and Nik helps position me kneeling over the padded arm of the small two-seater, so that I can see straight out the floor-to-ceiling window. "Now all you have to do is relax," she tells me, patting me on one ass cheek. "And let me work."

I'm about to ask her what she's planning, but the words die on my tongue as she drops to her knees and spreads my legs further apart. Then her fingers are tracing over my ass crack, pulling it wide, and I feel a stream of cool air against my soaked cunt and hot asshole as she blows gently over me.

I moan into my own panties, dropping my head as I feel her nosing into me. She licks right up and down, her tongue flicking over my tight hole and making me squirm, before pressing in. I can feel her tongue working inside me, and then her fingers find my clit, pinching and rubbing at it until I buck in protest, the sensation so intense that I groan. I arch my back, my breath coming in ragged gasps as Nik builds the pressure up in me. And right when I begin to really need it, she slides her fingers deep into my cunt, fucking me with a steady rhythm that matches her fingers on my clit, her tongue on my hole. I'm trembling, so wet and needy that I can feel it dripping down my thighs—soaking the floor, just like she said.

Just when I think I can't take any more, Nik abruptly stops, leaving me on the edge of climax. She moves around to the couch and slides onto it herself, positioning herself so that her pussy is almost within my reach. "You can just watch if you can't bring yourself to do any work," she tells me teasingly, opening up her lips to show me the glistening, delicious flesh beneath.

I make a pleading noise around the lace and silk holding down my tongue and she smiles approvingly, moving further down so that my mouth is directly over her, then pulls the panties free from my mouth. "Come on, then," she tells me. "Eat up."

I happily take up the invitation, sliding my tongue into her folds, tasting her, exploring her. Nik's hands move my head around wherever she prefers, guiding my movements, showing me the way she wants it, and I take to the task eagerly, my own orgasm forgotten. I don't have the best angle here, but Nik is getting worked up already, her breath coming faster as I lick at her, and I can see her abs tensing, her muscles bunching as she gets closer.

"That's it," she pants. "Get your lips around it and then…yeah, just like that…" I suck her clit into my mouth and her entire body jerks. She groans, grinding her hips up into my face, and I keep working her until finally I feel her tense up all over, and she gives a hoarse shout.

I rest my face against her thigh, breathing hard, but she doesn't take long to recover.

"What a talented little clit-sucker you are," she tells me, pushing me back so she can stand again. "And now you deserve a reward."

She returns to her previous position, on her knees between mine, her hand, fingers and tongue working in sync as she resumes pleasuring my throbbing core. My body responds as easily as always to her touch, muscles clenching around her fingers as she brings me to the brink of orgasm.

And then, in a moment of wonder, she pushes deeper into my cunt, stretching me to the limit, giving me the mind-blowing release she promised me. I can't even cry out, the intensity is so overwhelming. I just go tight as a bow, quivering all over on her hand, until the peak dies away, leaving me worn out but ecstatic.

"You made such a mess," she tuts once I've come back to my senses, and she's withdrawn her hand.

"Maybe Katy can come clean up," I say, and then giggle.

"That woman is not setting foot in this damn house," Nik laughs.

And for the first time in a long time, I'm happy to clean up after myself. We spend the night locked close in each other's arms, and then the next day we don't leave the house at all, lost in each other, wearing each other out over and over again…

Until the burner phone in my underwear drawer starts up an angry buzzing.

"It's Frank," I sigh, once I've fished it out. I replay the voice message he left, which is strangely brief.

"You need to come back to the Golden Sands."

That's it. That's all he says. I replay it for Nik on speaker, and she frowns as she takes in my face. "What is it?"

"It just sounds…weird. For Frank, I mean. He's never this abrupt." A terrible fear clutches me. "Oh, God, Nik—what if something's happened to Holden?"

We rush back as soon as we can, but when I get into the casino lobby, Phil Reynolds' smiling face is one of the first to greet me. "Good evening, Mrs. Colombo. I believe Mr. Frank is waiting for you in the usual room."

"Is everything alright?" I demand, and he looks faintly surprised.

"As far as I'm aware," he replies.

Phil would definitely know if something had happened to Holden. So whatever this is, maybe it's Family business—or maybe Frank has finally found out who killed Terry.

I share this thought with Nik, who cautions me to temper my expectations, but we still hurry as we head to the conference room where the Family likes to hold meetings.

But as soon as I step into the room, I stop abruptly as I take in the scene. Everyone has arrived before me. Frank's there, his craggy face etched with lines of worry. Larry stands in the corner, his bulky frame hunched and his eyes fixed on me.

Even Vince Sabatelli is there, lounging in a chair, feigning nonchalance, but the marks of Larry's torture are still fresh on him, and I can see the calculating gleam in the one eye of his that hasn't closed over.

But more strangely, Lyssa and Scarlett Fletcher stand in the shadows near the back of the room, their postures mirroring each other in their trained readiness. I catch Lyssa's eye for a moment, and there's a flicker of…something. Something dark. It's gone before I can really read it.

And then there's Holden, thank God. But the relief passes quickly when he won't look at me, intent on his laptop at the foot of the long table that takes up most of the room.

"What's going on?" I ask, injecting a cool confidence into my words that I don't entirely feel. "Why are the Styx Syndicate reps here?"

"Might as well ask why a Consortium member is here," Larry growls.

"Now, just hold on, everyone," Frank says loudly. "Just hold on. We got a few things to discuss. And Breezy, the fact is, these ladies came to us with…well, kind of a weird story."

"Oh?" I stare at the two Syndicate women. They stare back. There's no friendliness at all in their faces. "What story?"

"We told you we came here to find a female assassin," Lyssa says. "And we've looked into every name you gave us. From your friend there, Nik—" she gestures "—through to Sophie Johnson. They're all clear. Backgrounds solidly established with multiple confirmations from multiple sources."

My eyebrows twitch together. I know I'm missing something. I just don't know what. "Well…good. Perhaps this assassin you were looking for isn't here after all."

"Oh, she's here," Scarlett says softly. Her hand drifts to her hip, where I see she has something in a holster—a gun or a knife. Something deadly, either way.

"I don't understand," I say.

"Here's the thing, Mrs. Colombo," Lyssa drawls. "The only woman in your husband's inner circle with a background that couldn't be independently verified…" She tips her head to one side. "Was you ."

For a moment, silence reigns, until I break it myself with a laugh. "You think—you think I'm the assassin?" But my giggles die away as no one else laughs with me.

In fact, if anything, they all look more suspicious.

"This is ridiculous," I scoff. "If you want to know about my background, I'll tell you. I was born in West Virginia. I was raised?—"

"In a trailer park, yes," Lyssa says. "We know that story. No one could verify it."

"For Christ's sake!" I laugh, but I'm starting to feel a little desperate now. Even Nik, when I glance over my shoulder at her, looks perplexed. "Look, no one back there would know the name Brie Colombo, that's for sure. And?—"

"There's more," Larry says darkly from the corner, and I don't like the grim smile he's giving. "Brooks! Show her."

"Just a moment, Mr. Caruso," Holden mutters, his fingers flying over the keyboard. I can see the sheen of sweat on his brow, the miserable look on his face. He looks at me and mouths I'm sorry .

Frank clears his throat, the sound like gravel crunching. "Mrs. Colombo," he begins—not Breezy anymore, I note, and I can hear the strain in his voice, the effort it's taking him. "Perhaps you'd like to explain what we're about to see?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Okay, I think I'm connected to the screen over there," Holden announces, his voice cracking slightly. He looks up at me, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and apology. "These files were pretty well covered, but I managed to recover some of the original picture. It's not great quality, but…"

He trails off as the first images flicker to life on the screen. There's that blur again, grainy, indistinct, but definitely there's something familiar about it.

"This is the security footage from the night of Terry's…of Don Colombo's murder," Holden explains, his voice small in the cavernous silence of the room. "If I pause it here—you can see, there's the shape of a person there. The first thing I recovered was that the door actually opens."

The room goes deathly quiet as we watch, a ghost-door opening and closing, just as Holden said.

"As for the figure, that was much more deeply erased. But…" He takes a breath, then goes on sadly, "but there's a picture frame near the door, as the person walks by. When I added a high- contrast filter—" Suddenly the image switches, and a blurred-out figure walks past the picture, just as Holden said, opens the door, then closes it. "So then I wondered if there might be anything reflected in the glass of the picture frame."

I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears, drowning out everything else.

"I just needed to sharpen it up a little," Holden murmurs. He rewinds the footage, zooms in, and then begins to change the lighting of the image so that the reflection begins to appear, details emerging from the digital murk like a photograph developing in a darkroom.

And then the image resolves into near-perfect clarity.

I feel the blood drain from my face. And I hear Nik gasp behind me, too, as the enhanced image comes into focus.

My own face stares back at me from the screen.

I feel like I'm falling, even though I'm standing perfectly still. This can't be happening. This isn't possible. But there it is, in stark black and white.

Damning evidence.

"How about now, Mrs. Colombo?" Frank's voice cuts through the rushing noise in my ears, sharp and accusing. "Would you care to explain now?"

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out.

Larry is stalking closer, murder in his eyes. "I knew it!" he spits. "I fucking knew you were a poisonous little bitch! You killed him, didn't you? You killed Don Colombo!"

Vince leans back in his chair, a wolfish grin spreading across his purple-and-blue face. "Well, well, well," he drawls, his voice dripping with false concern. "Isn't this interesting? Black Widow Breezy."

Lyssa and Scarlett are already making their way around each side of the table, headed for me, weapons out. Lyssa casually twirls a knife in her hand.

I back up, knees trembling, until I bump into what feels like a solid wall.

It's Nik.

God, Nik.

I whirl to face her and see the struggle playing out behind her eyes. Does she believe it? Does she think I'm capable of this?

"This isn't what it looks like," I whisper, but the words sound hollow even to my own ears. They hang in the air, pathetic and unconvincing. I turn back to the room. "It's not me!"

"Not you?" Larry snarls, cutting me off. He takes another step closer, his bulk looming threateningly. "That's your face, right there on the screen! So why don't you explain it to us, huh? Explain how you murdered your own husband? How you've been playing us all for fools? How you've been pretending to grieve, pretending to give a shit about the Family, while all along you were the one who put a bullet in Don Colombo's head?"

"Now, now," Vince drawls, his voice a mockery of reason in the charged atmosphere. "Let's not jump to conclusions. I'm sure Mrs. Colombo has a perfectly reasonable explanation for why she was so close to her husband's office moments before he was shot dead. Don't you, honey?"

"And you can shut your goddamn mouth," Larry bellows, stabbing a finger toward Vince. "I bet you two were in on this together! Why else was she so eager to set you free?"

His words are like a match to gasoline. The room erupts into chaos. Accusations fly, voices raised in anger and disbelief.

Through it all, I can feel Nik's presence behind me, solid and unwavering. But for how long? How long before she, too, turns against me? The thought sends a spike of fear through my heart, colder than any threat of violence.

I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. I'll be damned if I'm going down without a fight.

"Enough!" I shout, my voice cutting through the din, and the room falls silent.

I lock eyes with each person in the room, one by one. Frank, his face a mask of disappointment and anger. Larry, practically vibrating with rage. Vince, his one good eye gleaming with opportunistic glee. Lyssa and Scarlett's expressions have hardened into professional masks, waiting to see what my next move will be.

I can't see Nik. She's behind me. I have no idea what she's thinking.

"I didn't do this," I say, trying to sound forceful. Convincing. But my voice comes out hoarse and wavering.

Larry's expression changes, and I can see he's made up his mind.

"You fucking bitch!" he bellows, and before anyone can say another thing, he's charging straight for me, strong hands reaching for my neck.