Page 13 of Guarding her Gangster Girl

“The Family will figure it out,” I cut her off, perhaps too quickly. As much as I appreciate Juno, as much as I trust her personally, I can’t ignore the fact that she’s not Family. NotmyFamily. I might just be the Don’s widow, but I still care about the survival of the Colombos, and letting Juno interfere would only make us seem weak. “Thank you,” I say more politely, “but we have everything in hand.” Time to steer the conversation to safer ground. “The funeral is tomorrow. I’d be honored if you would attend, Juno—and you, too, Caitlin, of course.”

“The honor would be ours.” Caitlin gives me a smile as warm as her hair and I find myself smiling back.

I turn to the interlopers. “And you, too, Lyssa and Scarlett—it would be very kind of you to show that the Colombos have support in Chicago as well as New York.”

They agree readily, and I know what they’re really thinking: that it will give them an opportunity to look at all the female guests. I try to ignore the frisson of worry washing over me, but it’s hard.

Because if Nik Kusek reallyisthe assassin they’re seeking, now she knows about the house at Solara. And if she isn’t the assassin? She’ll still have told Eva Novak all about it.

I have nowhere left to hide.

CHAPTER 8

Brie

My timeas a showgirl was a while ago now and didn’t last long, but it taught me never to falter. Ankle twists mid-routine? You suck it up or you get your butt offstage as discreetly as possible, make it look like part of the act. Can’t find your headdress because one of those bitches has stolen it just to fuck with you? You damn well steal someone else’s.

Every woman for herself, all while kicking and dancing in perfect time together. No problem was ever insurmountable, so long as you could think fast and keep that smile in place.

So today, as I walk into the funeral home and prepare myself for a day in the public eye, I choose a muted half-smile of appreciation as I nod to the funeral home staff and take my place to greet attendees. The scent of lilies and roses is overpowering; flower arrangements line the walls, a pale wash of white against dark wood paneling. Hushed voices and muffled sniffs fill the air. I catch sight of the next room, where Terry’s open casket waits. Holden is standing there, looking down at him, caught in an unguarded moment. I see his shoulders shaking.

My heart breaks for him. He loved Terry so much, and I’m the only person who can really understand how he feels—and vice versa. Holden used to call us the Three Musketeers sometimes, and Terry always laughed that we were more like the Three Stooges, only two of us were much prettier than those old funnymen.

I never felt like the third wheel when we were hanging out. I was happy for them both—happy that they’d found love, found each other, because I had whatIwanted, too.

I had safety, and I had money to continue ensuring that safety. These days, though, I’m not feeling so safe.

Holden straightens his shoulders and I see him subtly wiping his face with a handkerchief. When he turns from the casket, he looks every inch the professional again, greeting new viewers as they approach. He stays in the viewing room while I greet people as they enter the funeral home, accepting condolences and memories alike. And my mind drifts back to the day I met the old bastard, God love him. I was all legs and tits and not much talent. But I had something else. Something more important than talent.

I hadambition.

And Terry? He had power. I was sent to wine and dine him one night, the show producers hoping I could squeeze an extra hundred thousand out of casino owner Terry Colombo, who’d already invested as much as any reasonable man could be expected to put into a dying art and an underperforming show. But I’d built a reputation for getting my way.

Legs, tits, andcharm. Those were my weapons.

I’d been secretly pissed off when his private secretary was right there with him—harder to seduce when a man is around other men—but I played my part perfectly that night, laughing at Terry’s jokes, touching his arm, leaning in close. The scent of his expensive cigars and whiskey clung to my hair when I sniffed at it in the ladies’, a heady mix of wealth and influence. I was intoxicated by it, desperate for more.

And when I came back from powdering my nose, I decided to duck into the kitchen, ask for a special bottle of champagne to be served—but instead, I stumbled upon a scene I wasn’t meant to see. I took a wrong turn into a back hallway, and there was Terry leaning up against the wall, pants around his ankles, with Holden on his knees before him.

Our eyes met, and for one long moment, I thought I was done for. But the fear in his eyes mirrored my own, and then Holden stood up, wiping his mouth, and leaned in to murmur in Terry’s ear.

“Is that right?” Terry asked me. “You prefer the ladies, huh?”

I stared at both of them until Holden’s eye twitched, a tiny warning, and then I shrugged. “Yeah. Your buddy there, he clocked me.”

“I thought she might be useful,” Holden said. “For what we talked about.”

The silence stretched for an eternity before Terry’s face broke into a grin as he buttoned himself up, then stepped forward to extend a hand. “Well, sweetheart, I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

I had no idea what he meant. But I shook that hand. And three months of “dating” was followed by a quick engagement,followed by the most expensive wedding the city had seen for a decade. A marriage of convenience, he called it. Protection for him, and for Holden, too, who fully sanctioned the marriage.

I’d said yes because it was what I’d always wanted, the reason I’d come to Vegas in the first place: a golden ticket out of poverty.

Vince Sabatelli is making his way toward me, oozing false sympathy.

“Brie,sweetheart,” he coos, his breath an off-putting combination of mint and whiskey. “Terry was like a father to me. I hope you know you can count on me during this difficult time. And I hope I can count on yours during the…transition period.”

I can see the hunger in his eyes, the barely concealed ambition—and this isn’t about the casino. This is about the Family. Vince wants the top job, badly, and he thinks I’m his path to it. I fix him with an icy stare, channeling every ounce of the power I’ve observed Terry wielding over the years.

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