Page 35 of Last Shot

‘It’s my job to read people,’ Max said.Used to be my job.‘I’m also a decent poker player. It’s a cliché, but everyone really does have a tell. People are good at disguising when they like someone more than they should, but hate is more difficult to hide. When Greyson said Skinner’s name, you tried too hard to cover up your initial reaction.’

If Raphael was considering thunking her over the head with the wine bottle, he managed to conceal it. Just. ‘I meant what I said, Maxella,’ he purred instead. ‘If I find Kaine Skinner, I will deliver him to Greyson myself.’

Why?If Skinner worked for the La Marcas, why would Raphael, their humble servant, betray such a key player in the family’s game?

And whatwasthe game? Max felt like she was switching TV channels between the AFL, the cricket and the Australian Open, trying to decipher the patterns, the goals and who was keeping score. She knew better than to push Raphael. Calling him out on his hatred of Skinner had been a gamble, and she’d managed to escape with a neck free of glass, so she was considering that a win. Not exactly a lead though.

‘So, are you like Greyson? A “fixer” for the La Marcas?’ She pretended to be shy and unsure, like she knew she was being nosy but if she did it in a cute, sultry way, he might just bite.

‘I think your Greyson would be horrified to hear you drawing similarities between us.’

She baulked. ‘He’s notmyGreyson.’

‘No?’ Raphael’s eyebrows practically disappeared into his styled fringe. ‘He looked awfully protective when I put my hand on your back, and positively murderous when I offered my coat.’

She shrugged. ‘He always looks like that. At least I think he does ... I don’t really know him that well.’

‘The things we put up with for work, hey?’ he said. ‘I’ll answer your question as long as you promise you’ll come back after the gala?’

‘Promise.’

‘Excellent.’ He clasped his hands like he was making a deal with himself. ‘I’m nothing like Greyson. The La Marcas don’t differentiate between blood and those who work for them. Greyson is not a Barbarani, he worksforthe Barbaranis. I do not have La Marca blood in my veins, nor am I bonded to them by marriage. But I work with them, and that makes me one of them. I have a lot of different roles, Max, just like everyone within a family has different roles. I work in the winery sometimes, I pick grapes. I muck the stables. Sometimes I lie in one of the La Marcas beds.’ His eyes glinted as he pulled down the front of his shirt. For a moment she thought he was going to take it off. But all he wanted to show her was the blue-tinged tattoo slightly to the left of his chest.

Over his heart.

‘The La Marca Cuore,’ she said. What kind of person bound themselves to a family like that? Was it love, or something worse? Did the La Marcas have something over Raphael?

He winked. ‘You’ve done your research, Madam Security.’

Still staring at the cuore, Max said, ‘Okay, I get it – you’re one of them. So why did Greyson choose you? Why did he think you’d talk to us?’

‘He didn’t choose me, sweet Max.Youdid.’

She stepped away from the oaky, musk scent of his shirt. ‘What?’

Raphael smirked like he’d won something. ‘Greyson could have asked those questions of any of the La Marca workers in the winery today. He askedmebecause he saw me watching you when you walked in. Greyson knows I am a connoisseur – I know good wine when I taste it, and it’s the same for beautiful women.’

Max swallowed. ‘I think I should be insulted. But you make it sound flattering.’

His mouth twitched. He looked like he was about to say something else – or maybe even kiss her – she really couldn’t tell. But then he paused, an invisible leash tightening around his neck, as his gaze stuck on something behind Max.

‘Pleasure as always, Greyson.’ Raphael held out his hand like he was offering Grey a priceless piece of jewellery. Grey glared at it like it was a piece of something else.

Max did not move towards Grey. Instead, she stood on her tiptoes and, under the guise of planting a kiss on Raphael’s jaw, whispered, ‘It’s your cheek, by the way.’ Raphael raised an eyebrow. ‘Your tell. You bite the inside of your left cheek.’

His eyes glinted in recognition.

Balance, debt. Isn’t that what Grey said the La Marcas and Barbaranis existed on? It was small, but now she was pretty sure Raphael owed her.

‘Your word, Raphael.’ Grey’s voice was murder. ‘Any whisper of Skinner, you tell us.’

The ‘or else’ part hung like a guillotine above their heads.

11

Grey

There was no sign of Skinner in town. All the hotel and motel owners knew Grey and they wouldn’t lie to him. Or if the La Marcas paid them enough to, he’d be able to tell, because he’d known most of them since he was a boy.

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