Page 81 of Remy

“I won’t talk,” Olivia blurts. “I can’t. Not only because I wouldn’t risk my father’s freedom, but because I’ve been implicated myself.”

Salvatore cocks his head. “How?”

I clear my throat, hoping to get her to tap the brakes on the truth serum.

“I helped dispose of that man’s body,” she admits. “I was there. I flipped the switch on the retort.”

“The plot thickens.” Lorenzo leans back in his chair, entwining his fingers over his stomach. “I assume it was a forced action, though. Not something that would hold much weight in court.”

“Maybe not,” she continues. “But since then, I would’ve been seen driving your nephew’s car to the hospital on my own. He’s spent the weekend in my house. I even convinced my neighbor we’re in a relationship. Those actions wouldn’t be so easy to talk my way out of.”

Fuck, Ollie.

I fight the need to clasp a hand over her mouth. To cut her off. To shut her the hell up.

“The mobster and the mortician having known ties.” Lorenzo rocks gently in his chair, his agitation subtle. “What a juicy story for the tabloids.”

Ollie snaps her panicked gaze to me.

Yes, pyro, you glitched.

I ignore her, refusing to meet those pleading hazel eyes. To weaken before the men looking for any excuse to be her executioner.

“The neighbor is no threat. She’s older than time.” I shrug off the skin-crawling apprehension. “And Olivia wouldn’t have been noticed in my car.”

“There’s a difference between being noticed and having evidence readily available to find once the bloodhounds catch wind of this.” Salvatore turns and walks for the window, disengaging from the conversation, his mind already made up.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I clench my molars. “I have this under control.”

“Forgive me, figlio, but I lack your confidence.” Lorenzo gives a somber smile. “Given the circumstances, I feel it necessary to spend a little more time with Olivia. Just the two of us.”

“No,” I demand. “That’s not happening.”

Salvatore doesn’t turn back from the window.

They’ve both determined she’s too much of a liability.

“Hear me on this, Lorenzo.” I grate through gnashed teeth. “I said, no.”

I’m punching above my weight. Pushing far beyond my boundaries. And still, I don’t know why. Don’t understand how this woman and her father became important.

“More consideration needs to be made.” My uncle sits straight in his chair, all pretense of relaxation gone. “I’ll chat further with Olivia and?—”

“With all due respect, Mr. Cappelletti, I’m just as capable of reading between the lines as Remy,” Ollie says with softened conviction. “I know my life is on the line. But I assure you, I’m not a liability. I may not have proven my willingness to keep my mouth shut yet, but I can promise there’s nobody on this earth I love more than my father. I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize his freedom. I wouldn’t have been able to do that even before I learned of the cancer, let alone now when I know he’s suffering.”

“It’s too big a risk,” Salvatore speaks to the Baltimore skyline, as if the it in question isn’t Ollie keeping her life.

“I’m level-headed.” She adds steal to her tone. “Death, murder, and the results of violence aren’t new to me.”

“That might be the case, crypt keeper, but I’m sure crime and danger are.” Salvatore glances over his shoulder to Lorenzo. “We’d be placing unnecessary trust in someone who brings nothing to the table.”

“She brings her father,” I growl.

“He’s already at the table, dickwad.”

I chuckle, teeth gritted, fists clenched. I’m going to fucking kill him.

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