Page 120 of Last Shot

This job.

This life.

A lie.Hewas a lie.

‘You’ve got the same jawline as Emilio Barbarani.’ Max dropped her head as soon as she said it.

‘It’s so obvious, right?’ Frankie giggled, throwing her head back. ‘God, we were so stupid.’

‘You knew?’ Grey asked her, acid burning through his veins at her laugh. ‘And you said nothing?’

‘What would it have changed?’

I would have left. I would have ... lived my own life. I wouldn’t have felt so tethered to this place out of guilt. That kid wouldn’t have died.

‘We’re running out of time.’ The call came from behind the door. Raphael.

‘Urgh.’ Frankie rolled her eyes like this entre exchange was boring her. ‘Quinton, go do it.’

‘Can’t, Frank.’ Quinton shook his head. ‘No more drugs. We didn’t realise your Fixer was going to put so many guards on. And ...’ Quinton looked sheepish. Well, wolfish, in sheep’s clothing. ‘I can’t find my satchel. I must have left it—’

‘Just say the word, Francesca.’

Fucking Raphael.

The first flash of irritation struck Frankie’s face. Grey caught the moment, pushing down everything rising within him. Everything he wanted to ask, everything he wanted to scream. He was dead already, whether Giovanni was really his dad or not. But they were all dead if he stood here cloaked in his own pain.

Too many guards. One thing Frankie hadn’t counted on.

Quinton’s satchel. Gone. But where?

‘Fine,’ she called, wrinkling her nose. ‘Shoot them then. Whatever. I just don’t want to watch.’

No. No. No.

‘Wait.’ Grey had nothing. ‘Just wait.’

Frankie raised an eyebrow again. Max shuffled in his periphery and his eyes fell to the blonde girl on the floor.

‘What about Ariana?’ he asked.

‘I’m not spilling innocent blood,’ Frankie said. ‘I’m not a monster. She’s been injected with the same combo-thing that was meant for me.’

So this wasn’t part of the plan. Grey catalogued all the things that had gone wrong for Frankie. She hadn’t been anticipating this many people in the room. She hadn’t intended anyone to be a witness to the fact that she was the mastermind behind her family’s murders. Ariana was a mistake – she hadn’t expected the La Marca girl to trust them enough to follow them into the passage. She hadn’t expected Max to find his watch. Vittoria wasn’t supposed to have taken that dart. Frankie was meant to be unconscious or just starting to come around now, while Quinton and Raphael finished the job.

How was Grey meant to use this? Would the gun he’d placed under Ariana when he’d first run to her be too obvious? Would Max even take the hint?

‘Check she’s breathing,’ Grey said to Max.

‘Quinton can do it,’ Frankie said.

‘Funnily enough, I don’t trust Quinton anymore.’

Grey kept his eyes on Frankie and the gun as Max moved slowly in the corner of his eye. He forced himself not to look at her, not to give anything away. Not to give Frankie any reason to shoot her.

‘Stay down,’ Frankie said.

Max froze in her crouch by Ariana, like a child playing musical statues.

---