19. Brie

CHAPTER 19

Brie

The steady beep of hospital monitors fills Sophie’s room as I watch her chest rise and fall. Her face is still ashen, but some color has returned to her cheeks. The nurse just assured us she’ll pull through, and relief washes over me so strongly I have to grip the edge of the bed to stay steady.

Nik’s hand closes over mine and squeezes. Through the window, I can see two of Frank’s men stationed outside, both seasoned soldiers of the Family. They snapped to attention when I arrived, with a respectful, “Mrs. Colombo,” and I thanked them for their time.

“No bother at all, Mrs. C,” said one.

“Honor,” grunted the other, and I could tell that he actually meant it. So Vince was right. I do have some influence over the rank-and-file, if these men are anything to go by.

That could come in useful.

I call Sophie’s parents to break the news. They’ll be coming from Atlanta, but tell me that Sophie recently mentioned a boyfriend, who should possibly be informed as well. I hear myself agreeing to do it for them—they’re upset enough without having to worry about that—but I regret it as soon as I hang up.

“I have no freaking clue who Sophie was dating and I can’t get into her phone,” I sigh. “Maybe someone at the casino will know. Maybe Phil…if he’s ever willing to speak to me again.”

Nik grins, and then suggests, “Let’s get something to eat. You haven’t had breakfast or lunch.”

Neither has she, which I point out, and we head to the hospital cafeteria. It’s a stark contrast to the Golden Sands’ elegant eateries—harsh fluorescent lighting, plastic chairs, and sandwiches that look like they’ve been here for a while. I pick at the edge of a ham and salad on wholewheat, the bread gone slightly stale, while Nik wraps her hands around a cup of coffee so weak it’s practically tea.

“We’re missing something,” I mutter, more to myself than to her. “There has to be a way to get to Big Joe.” How would Terry handle this? He always knew which strings to pull, which favors to call in. Or Juno—she’d probably have half the prison staff on her payroll by now. “I’m out of my depth. I can’t stop wondering what Juno would do, or Terry, or Eva Nov?—”

“Stop.” Nik’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. “Forget about how anyone else would handle it. How would Brie Colombo handle it?” I look up, caught by the intensity in her blue eyes. “You’re your own kind of boss, remember?” Her fingers brush mine across the table.

A warmth that has nothing to do with the terrible coffee spreads through my chest. Before I can respond, Nik’s expression shifts to something more playful. “You’ve been stressed as hell for days now. You need to blow off some steam before you explode. So…let’s go out tonight.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Out?”

“The Secret Garden.” Her smile turns wicked. “Unless you’re too tired.”

I start to laugh, but then pause. Why not? We’re not getting anywhere spinning our wheels here, and suddenly I’m desperate to feel like myself again. Not Terry’s widow, not the Family’s figurehead, not a woman fighting for her position, but just…me.

“I’ll need to change. Can we go back to the Golden Sands?”

“We can go anywhere and everywhere you want, as you haughtily informed Larry Caruso yourself.”

Just not federal prison. But I push that thought aside and decide to focus on having fun. Nik’s right. No point running myself into the ground. Sophie will be okay and Larry has been put in his place for now. Might as well live it up while I can.

Because I’m still very aware of the fact that someone wants me out of the way, even if they’ve stopped taking direct shots at me for now.

Back at my dressing room in the casino, I rifle through my clothes racks while Nik watches with barely concealed amusement. Then I catch her expression when I open my jewelry box, practically scandalized at the apparent fortune in gems I scatter casually across the vanity as I pore through them.

“Relax,” I tell her, holding up a diamond choker. “They’re all fake. Good fakes, but fakes. The real ones are in a well-hidden safe.”

“Glad to hear it,” she says. “Can’t imagine Terry Colombo would have given you all those and been cool with you throwing them into a box in your dressing room.”

I throw the choker and the rest of the necklaces back into the jewelry box and go back to the racks of dresses. My hands find familiar beaded fabric, and something makes me pause. The flapper dress I wore the night Nik and I first met, when someone took a shot at me. And it was the same dress that I wore in the footage someone spliced in to set me up for Terry’s murder.

I used to love this dress, but now it just makes me sad. And I know Terry wouldn’t want that. So…why not make some better memories with it?

I strip off quickly and then slip it on, feeling the weight of the beads against my skin, remembering how Nik looked at me that night when I walked into the Secret Garden.

Like she hated herself for wanting me.

She looks at me with something like awe in her eyes when I turn to see what she thinks. “You’re so beautiful,” she says softly, and for a moment I forget about Terry’s murder, about Sophie in the hospital, about all of it.

There’s just Nik, looking at me like that .

“We could stay in,” I suggest with a wicked smile.

“There will be plenty of time for that,” she assures me, “but I meant what I said. You need to remember what it’s like to have fun. What self-respecting party girl doesn’t?”

I laugh, swat her shoulder, but she’s right. I am who I am, and I am a woman who likes a good time. And the Secret Garden is exactly as it always is—jazz floating through smoke-filled air, crystal glasses tinkling, the whole place thrumming with secrets and possibility.

We make our way through the crowd—it’s busy tonight—heading toward my usual spot, but I freeze. There, holding court at the best table in the house, is Eva Novak.

She’s wearing blood-red velvet and sipping champagne while a stunning brunette hangs on her every word. Eva hasn’t noticed us yet, but my blood runs cold remembering our last encounter.

Nik’s arm slides around my waist, protective and possessive all at once. “We can leave,” she murmurs.

But something in me rebels at the thought. This is my city, my territory. I won’t let Eva Novak chase me out of anywhere. “No fucking way,” I say, lifting my chin.

It’s time I showed Eva Novak exactly who I am.