9. Nik

CHAPTER 9

Nik

What a cheeky little…

I try to find an objection, stammering out, "Well, I—" before catching myself. I cannot refuse a direct order from Eva. "Yes, of course," I force out. "I'd be…delighted."

Brie's flicker of a smirk makes my irritation burn hotter. I've always been very good at hiding my emotions, but this woman seems to read me like an open book.

"Thank you," Brie says smoothly, her voice carrying a hint of a drawl. "And thank you, Eva, for your support. I feel quite loved today. Did you know even the Chicago Styx Syndicate sent representatives?" She nods toward a blonde and a brunette standing across the other side of the room. Eva looks with interest toward them—another prospective buyer is always a good thing. "But if you'll excuse me, I must greet the rest of my friends and family."

"Of course," Eva murmurs, and moves away.

Brie turns her back on me, glances over her shoulder, and says softly, "Heel."

I clench my teeth to prevent myself responding, and fall in line.

And just like that, I'm stuck playing guard dog to the Widow Colombo. I watch the room carefully as she greets a steady stream of mourners, her composure impressive, her sadness an undercurrent. She's either a hell of an actress or genuinely grieving.

I'm betting on the former. From everything I've seen of her so far, Brie Colombo has proven herself a manipulative little minx.

When there's finally a lull, Brie turns to me. "Do you want something to eat or drink?"

"Nope," I reply curtly.

She sighs. "Well, I need a break." She takes a step away, and with a stifled sigh, I follow. I want to ask her what the hell she's playing at, making me stick by her like this, demanding me of all people, when she could have had Eva's trained bodyguard—or hell, one of the Colombos' guards. Why accept Eva's offer at all? Brie must be aware that Eva just wanted eyes and ears in the Colombo Family.

I follow her to the buffet. The room is a sea of black suits and dresses, punctuated by the occasional flash of jewelry or a colorful pocket square. As Brie starts loading up two plates—one for her and one for me, despite my refusal—she leans in close.

"So you didn't tell Eva about what happened the other night?"

"I didn't have to," I respond, my tone clipped. "Since your boy Frank was happy to spill all about it."

But the truth is, I was as surprised as Brie when Eva came out with that comment before. Because I did keep my mouth shut, and now I'm wondering if Eva knows I was there with Brie at the time. She can't know, I decide.

Because I'd be dead already if Eva Novak thought I was hiding information from her.

"I meant about the Secret Garden," Brie says, even more softly.

She has me there. "I'm not in the business of outing people," I tell her at last.

Before Brie can respond, a portly man in an expensive suit and slicked-down hair sidles up to her. Even without an introduction, I can smell the stink of mob boss all over him. His eyes are small and glittering, his smile oily.

"Mrs. Colombo," he oozes. "Such a tragedy. If there's anything I can do to comfort you in your time of need, don't hesitate to ask." He gives her a leering up-and-down, leaving little doubt about what kind of comfort he's offering.

I step forward instantly, planting myself between Brie and the sleazeball. "Beat it," I growl, my hand instinctively moving toward where my weapon is concealed.

To my surprise, Brie places a gentle hand on my arm. My skin tingles under her touch. Meanwhile, the guy is glowering at me, but he has nothing to say. "I'm sorry, Don Gatto," Brie says. "As you can imagine, my friends are very protective of me at the moment. I'm sure you only wanted to show your support."

" Respectfully ," I add.

He glares but gives a short nod before stalking off.

"It's alright, Nik," Brie says, a hint of amusement in her voice. "If there's one thing I can handle, it's lascivious old men."

"Maybe, but you shouldn't have to put up with that bullshit," I mutter. "Especially not at your husband's funeral." The words come out more vehemently than I'd intended.

Brie gives an ironic little snort. "Come on. I know you don't think I'm grieving," she says, continuing to put food on our plates. Her chin raises, a little defiant. "But as it happens, Terry and I were very close. I miss him a lot." She pauses, meeting my eyes. "Still…thank you for sticking up for me."

I feel a glow of satisfaction in a job well done. It's more than that, though—there's a genuine warmth in her gratitude that catches me off guard. "It's none of my business what kind of relationship you had with your late husband," I tell her gruffly. "You focus on whatever you need to. I'll handle the rest— including the lascivious old men."

Brie actually smiles, but then changes the subject. "Do you know many of the people here?"

I scan the room, picking out familiar faces. The funeral home's main room is packed, clearly showing Don Colombo's influence. "I know of Juno Bianchi, of course. The Styx Syndicate's become notorious since Hadria Imperioli unmasked herself as Hades. I'm familiar with you Colombos; less so with the other Vegas families. I was briefed about the Consortium's customers before we arrived, but…well, we didn't expect to be attending a funeral, of course."

Brie begins a quiet rundown for me. She points out Vince Sabatelli, a shrewd-looking man with ambition practically oozing from his pores. There's Larry Caruso, the respected Colombo enforcer, built like a brick wall and radiating an aura of violence. She directs my attention to Phil Reynolds, the manager of the Golden Sands, all smooth charm as he works the room. Sophie Carter, the casino's Chief Financial Officer, looking lost and a little scared among all the mobsters. "And that's Holden Brooks," she says, nodding at a young, very attractive man about Brie's own height. "He was Terry's…private secretary." I notice a very slight hesitation in her tone.

And I wonder what it means.

I might as well start gathering intel for Eva. "May I ask if you have any idea who killed your husband?"

She says nothing for a moment, adding another spoonful of baked ziti to the two dishes. Then, in a hushed voice, she starts babbling. "I can't be sure, but I think it must be someone he knew, and so someone I know, because there's no way anyone could have gotten into his office to kill him otherwise, so that means it was an inside job. Frank, Terry's cousin—he's been with the Family forever, of course, but maybe he thought it was time he took charge, only he's not all that clever, so I can't see him pulling this off without help, maybe from Vince—Vince has always been ambitious—and then there's Larry, who has the muscle and the respect, but he's always been so loyal that I just can't believe he'd—" She breaks off with a sigh.

She's not just a pretty face. She's smart, too. "Maybe we shouldn't discuss this here," I murmur. "Someone did take a shot at you the other night, after all."

But Brie is on a roll, paranoia sweeping over her. "And then there's Phil," she continues. "He runs the casino. Maybe he saw an opportunity to take a cut for himself and Terry found out about it. And Sophie…" She trails off, shaking her head. "Sophie looks after the money. But what if she's not just an accountant. What if she's…"

"What if she's what?"

Her eyes dart to the Syndicate women before returning to me. She shakes her head emphatically. "You were right. I shouldn't be talking about this here."

I notice the slight tremor in her hands as she hands me a plate I don't want.

But I take it. "Brie," I say, surprising myself by using her first name. "Take a breath. You're spinning out."

She blinks, as if coming out of a trance. "You're right," she says, forcing a laugh. "I'm being ridiculous." Her eyes dart around the room, and that's when I finally get it. Finally understand the electric charge that seems to be coming off of her.

"You believe the killer is in this room." It's not a question.

She glances around the room again. "I feel like I'm going crazy," she says at last. "But I can feel it here with us. Some kind of… malevolence ."

I find myself curious. "Then why trust me, of all people, to guard you? I'm a stranger. For all you know, Eva Novak isn't above taking out inconvenient people when it suits her. Perhaps she authorized a hit."

It's a little heartless, of me, sure. But Brie doesn't waver. "I trust you because the other night you protected me without a second thought. And you clearly had no idea who the shooter was." She pauses. "If it was a setup from your boss, it was a very good one. But I also prefer you to protect me because of our…shared interests. The Colombos don't know about—well, that side of my life."

A thrill runs through me at her words, even as I remind myself to stay professional. Just because we both prefer women doesn't make us loyal to each other.

But she's right about the shooter the other night. I had no clue who it was. Brie is looking across the room at Eva, and I can't help looking at my boss as well.

Looking and wondering.

Eva catches my eye, giving me a smile and a slight nod. She's pleased I'm in this position, no doubt expecting me to report back on all of Brie's doings and any juicy Colombo family secrets. For the first time, I feel a twinge of resentment. I've always prided myself on loyalty, on following orders, on protecting the Consortium.

Protecting Eva's interests.

But something about Brie makes me want to protect her . She may be the widow of a crime lord, she may be as big a fake as they come, but…there's a vulnerability about her that calls to something deep inside me.

The burial goes off without a hitch. Brie even conjures up a few tears. But as I watch the crowd, making sure my focus is on the surroundings and the people gathered, I think I feel it too, what Brie was talking about.

Something malevolent.

After the burial, and then the second gathering and more food that I don't want, I go with Brie back to her suite at the Golden Sands. It's dripping with the kind of luxury that would make most people's eyes pop. Me? I'm too busy cataloging entry points and potential hazards.

My bags have already been sent over from the hotel the Consortium was staying at, placed neatly in the living room. I don't like that someone in the Consortium packed up my things at the hotel, looked through them. But at least they thought to include a few extras—some trackers, a few extra handguns, even a rifle.

"I'm going to take a shower," Brie announces after I complete a sweep of the whole place, her voice carrying a hint of exhaustion that wasn't there before. "Make yourself comfortable. We can talk after."

The thought of this woman, naked and wet, just a couple of doors away…I shake my head. I'm here to protect her, not fantasize about her.

I'm halfway through my second prowl of the living room when I hear a keycard zipping open the main door lock again. I have a decision to make. Pull my gun? If it's one of the Colombos, and they're here for legitimate reasons, I don't want to start anything. But I make sure my holster is unobstructed and place my hand on the butt of the gun.

The door bursts open to reveal a whirlwind of designer suit and righteous fury, and the guy is ranting before he even clears the threshold.

"I swear to God, Brie, if I have to listen to one more—" He stops short when he sees me, his words dying in his throat. His hand moves fast, and suddenly I'm the one staring down the barrel of a gun as the door closes softly behind him.

"Who the fuck are you?" he demands, his voice shaking almost as much as his hands around the 9mm. "Where's Brie? What have you done with her?"

I know this guy. The private secretary, or whatever. So I keep my voice steady, take my hand off my own gun. No sudden movements. "Brie's in the shower. I'm her new bodyguard on loan. Now, why don't you put that gun down before you hurt yourself?"

His eyes widen, but the gun doesn't waver. "Bodyguard? Since when does Brie have a?—"

"Holden!" Brie's voice cuts through our little scene. She emerges from the bathroom, hair wet, body wrapped in nothing but a tiny towel that's working hard over those generous curves. I force my eyes away, focusing on the still-armed intruder. "Put the gun down, honey," Brie says with a sigh. "She's telling the truth."

The man—Holden—lowers the weapon slowly, confusion written all over his face. "What's going on?"

Brie runs a hand through her damp hair, pushing it back from her tired face. "Nik, you remember I told you about Holden, Terry's private secretary. He's also a close friend of mine. He's always had a pass to my floor, and my suite, too." She pauses, exchanging a loaded look with Holden. "And he's always carried a gun. Terry's orders."

Something's not adding up here. "What exactly is going on?" I ask suspiciously.

Holden and Brie stare at each other again, and I see his shoulders sag in acceptance. "Holden was more than just Terry's secretary," Brie tells me, her voice softening. "He was Terry's lover."

Well, shit. That's not something you hear every day in Mafia circles.

"Terry and I…well, you know about me already. We had a marriage of convenience," Brie explains. But Terry was always clear that Holden and I had to be careful who we let close. Me, I wasn't so close to the day-to-day business. But Holden was—and still is. Hence the gun." Her voice turns sharp. "I trust you'll keep this information to yourself for now."

I can't help the scowl that crosses my face. "I told you before, I'm not in the business of outing people."

Holden, seemingly recovered from his shock, gives me an appraising look. "And you're really capable of keeping Brie safe?"

I fix him with a stare that has made tougher men than him cower. To his credit, he only flinches a little.

"Pack your shit," I tell Brie, turning away from Holden. "We're moving you to Solara. It's safer than being surrounded by potential killers."

I realize my mistake too late, when Holden pipes up, "What's Solara?"

Fuck.

Brie's voice is carefully casual as she explains. "It's a place where Terry built a house for me, out in the desert. A safe place. He swore me to secrecy about it."

I catch a flash of something in Holden's eyes. "I didn't know."

"He didn't want anyone to know," she assures him. "He was never there with me—it was my place. Is my place. Mine alone."

" She knows." Holden nods at me coldly.

"She's protecting me."

"She's from the Consortium!"

"She is standing right here ," I say impatiently, and then say again. "Brie, pack your shit."

"Terry always had your best interests at heart," Holden says sadly, still stuck on this secret that he didn't know.

Brie's face softens. "And yours. He loved you very much. You know that, right?"

They embrace, and I feel like an intruder. But when Brie pulls back, her face is all business. "Holden, could you personally set up my guest room for tonight? Nik will be staying here, but I'd rather no one else knew for now."

"I'm sorry," I say coolly, "perhaps you didn't hear me before. We're not staying here."

She doesn't even glance my way. "I'm not leaving," she tells me. "There's too much to deal with after Terry's death. Frank keeps asking me to make appearances for the Family, and I have a job to do."

"A job to do?"

She doesn't reply, but after she disappears to get dressed, Holden turns to me. His eyes are hard, his voice low. "You might be some tough-as-nails arms dealer, but if you hurt Brie, or let her get hurt, you'll answer to me."

I could take this pipsqueak out without breaking a sweat, but I respect loyalty. I give him a single nod, and he seems satisfied. He leaves, muttering about organizing the room next door.

Brie returns a few minutes later, dressed in a short, glittering gold cocktail dress that makes me want to put sunglasses on. It's strapless and seems to be held up by willpower alone. And her ears look like chandeliers with the amount of diamonds hanging from them. "What the hell is this?" I ask. "Someone tries to kill you, so you turn a damn spotlight on yourself?"

"I have a job to do," she says stubbornly. "And I'm not going to hide away."

"What job ?" I ask, exasperated.

She gets frosty as she draws herself up to her full height. We're almost at eye level. Almost. "I know you and everyone else thinks that I was just a pretty face and a trophy wife for Terry Colombo. But the truth is, I worked just as hard as he did for this Family. I'm the fucking face of the Golden Sands— and the Colombo Family. And I'll be damned if I won't do my job just because you think it'd make yours easier to hide me away in the desert."

She's not going to back down. And I'd be wasting my breath to argue any further. "Alright, alright. Don't get hysterical."

I stifle a grin as she huffs in irritation, and fall in behind her as she heads for the door.