Page 55 of Last Shot

Vittoria smirked like Max had drawn a bow without realising Vittoria had a sword hidden behind her back. ‘I know how to hurt my husband, Ms Conrad, and murder would be the last thing on my list.’

I know how to hurt my husband.What the hell did that mean? Max could fill entire castles with examples of how spouses could destroy each other without getting their fingerprints on any sort of weapon. And it wasn’t exactly an airtight alibi.

‘One more thing,’ Vittoria said, her expression blank, ‘the La Marcas will be at the gala tomorrow night. I’ll do my best to ensure my valuables are locked away, but keep an eye on them, would you? Claudia La Marca’s already stolen from me once before.’

Max felt the shift between them, like Vittoria had passed her something in secret, even though they were alone.

Stolen fromme.Not stolen fromus. Somehow Max knew Vittoria’s phrasing was deliberate.

I know how to hurt my husband.

‘Are you saying your husband—’

Slept with the enemy?Well, the enemy’s wife.

Vittoria surveyed her as though daring her to say it. Her sudden openness made Max wary. Was it Vittoria’s fear for her family’s lives that was forcing this out? ‘Have you ever been married, Ms Conrad?’

The slamming of a door. Tyre marks on the driveway. Damien’s socks still damp in the dryer. A ring in a navy blue box stuffed into a drawer.

Crazy bitch.

‘No, ma’am.’

‘The happiest person in a marriage is the one with the most power. When trust is broken, the one who broke it no longer has the upper hand.’

If Max was reading this right, Claudia La Marca and Giovanni Barbarani had slept together. Which gave three more people a motive to want Giovanni dead.

Matteo La Marca: the wronged husband.

Claudia: the philanderer who wanted her secrets buried.

Vittoria: the vengeful wife.

Max had assumed Skinner had been hired by the La Marcas to kill Giovanni because of money. But love could pull a trigger with equal strength.

Did VittoriawantMax to suspect her of attempted murder? Was this some sort of reverse psychology, trying to get Max onside when really it was Vittoria herself who’d written the note, who’d planted the bomb, who was offering this information to lead Max down a very particular rabbit hole that might in fact be filled with vipers?

And if Max had learnt anything in her career, it was that men who cheated on their wives rarely did it the one time. Where there was smoke, there was fire. And the list of potential husbands who might want Giovanni dead was ablaze in her mind.

Or was Max simply exhausted and reading too much into the situation, and all Vittoria was actually asking was that Max make sure no one went too close to her pearls?

As though sensing her questions, Vittoria said, ‘There are things even Greyson doesn’t know, Ms Conrad.’ She turned and was walking over the lush green hill between them and the mansion when Max heard the scream.

18

Grey

Grey had successfully avoided any talk about feelings or bombings, or feelings about bombings, by distracting Jett with the task of checking over Bessy. Just had to make sure the criminal who’d saved his life hadn’t cut the brakes or drained Bessy of any of her vital fluids before they left for Perth. He was staring at Jett’s boots, the rest of the Driver hidden under Bessy, when they heard it.

‘Help!’

‘What— Ow, FUCK!’ Jett’s skull collided with the car as he pushed himself out. ‘That’s Nella!’ he yelled, ignorant of the blood tracking its way down from his eyebrow.

Both men pelted out the garage door. Grey’s heart launched up his throat like a volleyed tennis ball.

Nella was about fifty metres away, near the outdoor lap pool behind Grey’s cottage, her back to them, facing the frozen army of karri trees lining the edge of the property. She was hunched over, her hands on her stomach.

Running towards her, from the karri trees, was—

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