Page 13 of Knot Like Other Girls

The room is dark, the heavy curtains blocking out any hint of the approaching dawn. But even in the dim light, I can make out Caruso's form on the floor. He's face down, one arm dangling over the side.

He's not moving.

What did I hear, then?

Oh. His phone on the floor, and a few scattered pills, too.

"Fuck," I mutter, flipping on the light switch. The sudden brightness is harsh, making me squint. But it confirms what I already suspected.

Don Caruso is dead.

I cross the room in two quick strides, reaching for his neck to check for a pulse I already know I won't find. His skin is cool to the touch.

"Shit, shit, shit," I hiss, my mind racing. This is bad. This is very, very bad.

I tap my earpiece, not bothering to keep my voice down as I haul his body onto the floor so I can start chest compressions. "Roman, get in here. Now."

Moments later, I hear the pounding of feet in the hallway. Roman bursts through the door, the others close behind him. They all freeze at the sight of Caruso's body.

"What the fuck happened?" Troy asks, his voice tight.

I shake my head, continuing to administer CPR even though I know it's not gonna help. "No idea. Found him like this when I came to check on him."

Roman pushes past me to examines the body. "No signs of struggle," he mutters. "No visible wounds."

Savva steps forward, his keen eyes scanning the room. "No signs of forced entry, either. The windows are still sealed."

"Could be poison," Cole suggests from his position by the door. It's the first thing he's said all night, his gravelly voice startling in the tense silence.

Roman nods grimly. "Possible. We'll need an autopsy to be sure."

"Guess I should stop CPR, huh?" I mutter, raking a hand through my undercut. "But how the fuck are we gonna get an autopsy? We're in the middle of bumfuck nowhere with a dead mafia don in our safehouse. Who exactly do you propose we call for that?"

Roman's eyes flash dangerously. "Watch your tone, Rourke."

I open my mouth to retort, but Troy steps between us, hands raised placatingly. "Okay, let's all take a breath here. We need to think this through."

He's right, of course. But the adrenaline is pumping through my veins, making it hard to focus. All I can think about is how spectacularly fucked we are.

Savva clears his throat delicately. "Not to state the obvious, but we have a rather pressing issue to address. Namely, what are we going to do with our late client?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy with implications. We all know what the smart move is. Dispose of the body, clean the scene, get the hell out of dodge. It's what we've been trained to do.

But something in me rebels at the thought. Maybe it's the lack of sleep, or the lingering doubts from earlier. Or maybe I'm just finally reaching my breaking point.

"No," I say, surprising even myself with the vehemence in my voice. "No, we're not going to just... disappear him. He was our client. We owe him better than that."

Roman's eyes narrow. "We owe him nothing. He's dead. Our priority now is protecting ourselves."

"And how do you propose we do that?" I challenge, taking a step toward him. "By dumping his body in the Mediterranean? How long before it washes up on some tourist beach? Beforethe Carusos figure out what happened and come after us with everything they've got?"

"We could make it look like an accident," Troy suggests, but there's a hesitance in his voice that tells me his heart isn't in it.

I shake my head. "No. No more lies, no more cover-ups. We call it in. Tell the local authorities exactly what happened."

The room erupts into chaos, everyone talking over each other. Roman's face is thunderous, Savva looks like he's considering whether he can dive through the window, and Troy is frantically trying to play peacemaker.

But it's Cole's quiet voice that cuts through the din.

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