Page 79 of Mercy in Betrayal

Ian steps between us before we kill each other. But I’m not done. I turn to my sister.

“You should have told me everything.” My voice has lowered, and I hate the pain that leaks into my words.

I have so much more to say, but a surprising lump has caught in my throat. I want to ask Cassidy for the truth—is Rowan in his apartment? I want to ask Carina about the moment our father died—how did it feel?

My phone distracts me as it buzzes in my pocket. I had forgotten to leave it in the car, but it’s not a weapon, and I have no one to ring and bail me out of this battle. I can’t run and tuck my tail between my legs.

Fuck this.

“Why are we talking like a bunch of women? Didn’t we come here to fucking fight?” Cassidy tosses his cigarette aside and walks toward me.

Shouts and curses erupt around us.

I spring toward Cassidy.

It’s kill or be killed.

Chapter 28

Rowan

I run across the grass, the ringing of Enzo’s phone coming clearly through the speaker and taunting me with each buzz. He isn’t picking up.

Oh God, he isn’t picking up.

Dew has started to gather, soaking into my shoes and wetting the hem of my pants. It’s a minor nuisance; every sense, instead, fixed ahead like a hound that’s caught the scent of its target. They…he…is here somewhere. I just need to find him.

I’m crossing the lawn; in the distance, the Little Red Lighthouse is shrouded in darkness. With little light, I run headfirst into Tom. His hands come out to grasp my shoulders automatically, balancing me.

“Mrs. Scarpetta.”

Even though we’ve never formally met, I remember him from various social events. Evie pointed him out to me, explaining that he was one of the Marzano family’s most important players.

“Tom. Do you know where they are?”

“Mrs. Scarpetta, what are you doing here?” His tone is patient, if chiding. “You shouldn’t be here.”

I shrug loose of his grip, and he releases me easily enough. “I have to find Enzo. We need to stop this.”

His expression hardens over, though. “You need to leave the park, Mrs. Scarpetta. This is no place for a lady, and the Valachis are on their way. Things are under control.” Without waiting for a response, he puts his back to me and continues on his way.

Things are not under control. Things are more of a mess than they’ve ever been. He has to listen.

“The Valachis aren’t coming,” I call after him, the heaviness of the dew-laden night and a certain hoarseness stealing my voice. I try again, louder this time. “They’re not coming!”

Tom spins around and looks at me. “What are you talking about? I spoke to Angel Valachi’s underboss.”

“I was just there. He isn’t sending anyone. He wants this to happen. Ivan Romanov beat Angel black and blue for the deception. He’ll be in bed for a while.”

Tom goes silent for a moment. “Motherfucker.” He bites the word off crisply and succinctly, then nods to himself and takes off at a half-run, his strides lengthening as he goes and making it difficult to keep up with him. “All right. We will deal with it.”

Maybe he has his own version of “reset.”

After a few minutes of jogging, I hear a faint yell. “Did you hear that?”

Tom has already adjusted his direction in response to the sound and I adjust accordingly, ignoring the stitch in my side. The sound of yelling grows louder, drawing us toward a set of sand volleyball courts.

As we get within view, a strangled gasp escapes me.

---