17. Brie

CHAPTER 17

Brie

The moment we step into the lobby of the Golden Sands, I know for sure that something is wrong. Both success and desperation have their own particular vibes in a casino, but this morning there’s something else—anticipation. Like the whole building is holding its breath.

Nik’s shoulder brushes mine as we walk. After the last few days and nights, everything feels different between us. Stronger. Deeper. The way she looks at me makes me feel invincible. And I’m glad for that, because I have a terrible feeling that today I’ll need to be at the very top of my game.

“Let’s start in her office,” I suggest to Nik as we walk through the lobby. “I think?—”

I stop dead as Larry Caruso’s bulk fills my vision. His hand clamps around my wrist, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.

What happens next is pure poetry.

Nik moves before I can even register it. One moment his viselike grip is threatening to cut off my circulation, and the next, he’s face-down on the marble floor, arm twisted at an angle that makes me wince. Nik’s expression hasn’t even changed.

The lobby erupts. Larry’s men materialize from the crowd, menace in every step. The cheerful casino sounds die away as the men advance on Nik, and the casino and hotel guests scatter. But Nik just twists that arm a little more, making Larry roar in pain and his men stop where they are.

Any second now someone is going to pull a gun?—

“Well, would you look at that!” Vince’s laugh cuts through the tension. He slow-claps as he strolls toward us, looking absolutely delighted. “Pay up, Larry. I told you the Kusek woman was worth her salt, and you just had to try to prove me wrong. Though fixing that arm might cost you more than the bet.”

I could hug him for his quick thinking, if he wasn’t so damn irritating most of the time. The casino patrons who’d frozen in fear start to relax, some even chuckling. Just another day in Vegas—a casual bet between eccentric gamblers, nothing to see here.

Nik releases Larry with the same efficiency she used to take him down. “Thanks for having such faith in me,” she says drily, offering him a hand up that we all know he won’t take.

Larry struggles to his feet, rubbing his arm with a feral growl. “You useless fucks can get outta here,” he barks at his men, who disperse quickly. Then he leans close to Nik, voice pitched for our ears only. “Try that again, sweetheart, and I’ll make you regret it.”

“I’ll enjoy watching you try,” Nik replies pleasantly.

Larry’s attention snaps to me, and there’s something truly ugly in his eyes. “And you,” he snarls. “You ain’t leaving this place again. I’ll lock you up where we kept Vince. See how you like concrete walls and no windows.”

“I’ll come and go as I please, Larry.” I step closer, letting him see the ugliness in my own eyes. “And you don’t need to worry about me skipping town. I’m not going anywhere, because I’m taking over the Family.”

Larry’s laugh is harsh. He turns to Vince. “You hearing this?”

Vince shrugs, the picture of casual amusement. “What, you worried?”

“Of course not!” Larry snaps, and then stomps off like a child having a tantrum. Vince follows, but not before throwing me a look of warning.

I can’t entirely read him—ally or enemy, friend or foe. But at least he defused that situation. I let out a long breath. “This is getting out of control,” I murmur to Nik. “We need to?—”

“Mrs. Colombo!” Phil’s voice makes me jump. He hurries toward us, face the color of paste. “Thank God you’re here.”

That sense of foreboding returns. “What is it?”

“It’s Sophie Johnson.” Phil is panting hard, but it seems to be from more than hurrying, and that’s what worries me. He’s never flustered. “She—in her office—the paramedics are with her now, but?—”

“Someone attacked Sophie?” The whole world seems to squeeze in on itself. This is my fault; if only I’d?—

“No,” Phil says. “No, she…she did it herself. An overdose, I think.” He drops his voice. “And she left a note, confessing to your husband’s murder.”

My mind is racing. Sophie? Sweet, efficient Sophie who gave me an alibi, who seemed genuinely worried about the casino’s future?

But then I remember the smooth way she lied to Larry and Frank about having drinks with me the night Terry died. And my compounding suspicions of her only last night.

Is this…the end of a nightmare?

I wish I could believe that.

“Let’s go,” I say, and Nik and I hurry after Phil, matching his frantic pace. The tourists part for us, sensing the urgency, watching and murmuring in our wake.

The executive offices are eerily quiet compared to the casino floor’s constant jingle and chatter. As we round the corner to Sophie’s office, the sight of several staff members at Sophie’s door, hands over mouths, horror in eyes, sends my heart into my throat. I push through them to see two paramedics kneeling beside Sophie’s crumpled form inside, their low voices controlled but urgent.

“She’s still alive?” The words escape me before I can stop them.

One of the paramedics glances up. “She is, but it’s touch and go.” He stands back to let the other worker lift the stretcher that Sophie is now strapped onto.

“But what did she take?” I ask, looking around her desk. There’s only a half-drunk coffee on the table. “Did she put something in her drink?”

“Ma’am, my job is to save lives, not investigate,” the paramedic tells me, as they start wheeling Sophie’s gurney out of the room. “That’s why the police should be here.”

“They’ve just arrived,” Phil says smoothly. “And I’ll be showing them in as soon as the room is cleared.” He catches my eye and while he says nothing, I know very well that Phil Reynolds will not be letting the police set foot in these offices. He’ll handle the cover up for me, with Frank’s help.

“We’ll follow to the hospital later,” I call after the paramedics as they disappear out the door, but I’m still scanning the office, taking in details. Sophie’s immaculate desk leaves no clues but that half-drunk coffee, and her designer blazer hangs carefully on the hanger at the back of the door.

“Do you know anything more?” I ask Phil. “Any idea what she took?”

He shakes his head, troubled. “They gave her Narcan, I think, and she responded—so my guess is an opioid.”

Nik doesn’t believe this scenario any more than I do. “Where’s the note?” she asks. Phil points at one particular piece of paper on her desk, still lying where it came out of the printer. I move closer to read it, Nik at my shoulder.

I killed Terry Colombo. He accused me of embezzling, started threatening me, and I grabbed his gun and shot him.

I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused.

Please forgive me.

“Sus as fuck,” I mutter, and feel Nik’s quiet huff of agreement. “Conveniently not handwritten…and I don’t believe for a second that she killed Terry.”

Phil is still hovering by the door, waving away the staff members who have come down the corridor to see what’s going on. He glances over his shoulder at us. “Mrs. Colombo, I kept law enforcement contained in another part of the hotel with Mr. Frank Colombo. But I really should check on them.”

“Hang on a minute,” I tell him. “I just want to…” I look at the confession again, the neatly printed sheet. I glance at Nik. “Do you think we can find out what time something was printed from her computer to this printer?”

“Maybe.” Nik is closest, so she wiggles the mouse to get to the login screen. A moment later she looks at me, and then across at Phil. I glance at the screen and see what’s caught her attention.

The login name on the screen isn’t Sophie Johnson.

It’s Philip Reynolds.

I look up at him too, now, and Phil looks blankly back, before reading something in our expressions. He takes one step back, then another…and then he bolts.

“Stop him!” I cry, but Nik is already running after him, so that even before I get to the doorway I hear a heavy thud. As I burst into the corridor I see that Nik has caught up to and immobilized Phil Reynolds, arm twisted up behind his back, face pressed into the wall, as other staff gasp and dart away from the epicenter of the action.

I take a few quick steps to join them, and then Nik leans in to murmur in Phil’s ear.

“You and I,” she says, “are going to have a little chat.”