Page 30 of Last Shot

Good to know I’m not the only one.

Raphael tsked and leant against the glass railing. Max’s stomach dropped when she saw exactly how high up they were, an ocean of karri trees below them. She’d never liked heights. ‘What is it the Barbaranis are so worried about, hey, Greyson?’ he asked. ‘The amount of money they spend on people like you and Jett and gorgeous Max here – surely that could be put to better use?’

‘I just want to hear it from the horse’s mouth.’ Grey folded his arms. Real power pose now. Max resisted the eyeroll that burned behind her temple. ‘Do I have anything to worry about from the La Marcas tomorrow night?’

‘The horse’s ...’ Raphael gaped in mock outrage. ‘Am I thehorse?’

Max laughed. Raphael stood a little straighter.

‘I’ve heard whispers.’

‘Oh, I bet you have, Hawke. Always hearing whispers, aren’t you? But I thought lately it wasyoudoing the whispering – dear old So—’

It happened like a fork of lightning. A crack. A flash. So quick Max couldn’t be sure she’d seen it. Grey had Raphael up against the glass helm, like two pirates duelling for command of the ship. This wasn’t loyal diligence to the Barbaranis. This was pure male rage. Wounded pride.

‘You don’t want to finish that sentence,’ Grey snarled.

‘I don’t?’ Raphael raised his perfectly curated eyebrows lazily, as though he and Grey were talking about the football score.

But Max didn’t have time to wonder why Grey was contemplating pushing Raphael down into the karri trees. ‘Grey. Let him go.’ She tried to dial back the commanding voice she’d perfected at work to nothing short of terrifying. She’d made her fair share of guys Grey’s size wet themselves.

However, when Grey did eventually step away from Raphael, she wondered if it was less to do with her and more to do with not wanting repercussions from the La Marcas for assaulting their barman.

Max ignored Grey who was huffing like a rhinoceros and stepped closer to Raphael. She could smell his thick, delicious perfume – cranberries and musk. ‘How long have you worked for the La Marcas?’

He flashed her a brilliant, shark tooth smile. ‘How about I answer your questions, little Max, if you answer mine?’

‘Fair enough.’ Her stomach tightened. Raphael didn’t seem like the kind of person it was easy to lie to. She suspected he was the carefully appointed La Marca security guard for a reason, even if his clever disguise was flirtatious barman.

‘All my life,’ he said. ‘How long have you worked for the Barbaranis?’

She sensed Grey inhale as though he was going to answer, but she transmitted a silent, angry message:You’ve almost fucked our chances of getting anything from him by threatening to throw him off the balcony. I’ll take it from here.‘I’m a private hire,’ she said. ‘It’s my first gig with them. I’ve been in Sydney doing celebrity stuff.’

‘Wonderful, wonderful.’ Raphael leant closer. ‘Your turn.’ He winked.

‘Do you know Kaine Skinner?’

Raphael’s eyes flashed. Fire in a pan. ‘Yes.’

‘Is he here?’

Raphael held up a finger. ‘My turn.’

Max clenched her jaw.

‘Do you have a boyfriend? Or a husband?’

Max’s insides twisted, but not like they used to at the mention of Damien. Now it was more like a dull ache, a muscle that would never be quite right. She felt Grey’s eyes on her, but she kept her narrowed gaze on Raphael. ‘No. Do you know if Kaine Skinner plans to assassinate Giovanni Barbarani?’

Raphael’s jaw tightened, his nostrils making that warning flare Max had seen on countless occasions before she dodged (or didn’t) a fist to the face. She felt Grey tense beside her – a tiger ready to strike if Raphael moved first. Then slowly, Raphael’s stunned face cut into a grin.

‘I like you,’ he said. ‘No bullshit, just straight to the point. Don’t often see that in women. I haven’t seen Kaine Skinner in three years, I thought he was in Sardinia.’

Max looked at Grey.Is he lying?But he just glared at her.

‘You didn’t answer my question,’ she said.

‘You’re right.’ The smile widened. ‘I do not believe, if Kaine Skinner were here, that he would worry himself with something as tedious as an assassination. From what I’ve heard, Skinner’s a bit tied up right now. Lots of aftershock, I can imagine, from sending one’s own wife to prison for one’s own crimes. Now, my question – are you hungry?’

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