Page 65 of Last Shot

He should have known. Hehadknown. But he should have been more prepared. He clenched his fists, straightening his legs under the table so Max’s hand fell. ‘Maxella is running this show, Ms Johnston,’ Grey managed. ‘I’m sure you’ve worked that out by now. I’m just along for the ride.’

Never in his most explicit, Stephen King–inspired nightmares would he have believed, when he finally got the chance to speak with Libby Johnston, that he would not be leading the conversation. That he would be on the outer.

‘Oh, baby.’ Libby blinked at him. ‘Don’t take it too hard. She’s never been good with sharing. You learn that pretty fast here.’

Grey said nothing. If he said what he wanted, how he wanted, Alexandra would have no choice but to drag him out.

Libby leant back. ‘I don’t wannaturnon Kaine, Mr Barbarani Man.’ She paused.

Grey focused on a spot behind her head as the room blurred around him.

‘I want him in a cage just like me, except his cage is gonna be six feet under the earth.’

Grey knew from the way Max didn’t move, this was only a shock to one of them. ‘You’ve refused to turn on him at every opportunity, and now you’re saying you want him dead? Forgive me for believing you’ve had a complete personality transplant overnight.’

‘Is he slow?’ Libby asked Max before turning back to Grey and smiling. ‘I turn on Skinner, imma get skinnered. I’m a dead woman if I do that. But when Maxella takes him out and gets her fancy badge back for saving the Barbaranis, she’s gonna assist me with my release. Isn’t that right, girl?’

Grey looked at Max. It was like someone was carving out his stomach. How could he have been so ...

She flicked back her long dark hair. It smelled like his shampoo. He’d never paid much attention to it in his own hair. He was pretty sure Nella had bought it. But he hadn’t realised it was apple scented until now. Something cinnamon as well, the overall effect being apple pie – like the kind Concetta would bake him and his dad in their cottage oven. He’d never been so enraged by a scent before.

‘Is that right, Conrad?’ He smiled for Libby’s sake. For Alexandra’s sake, even though she couldn’t hear through the door. Hell, for his own sake. Because if he wasn’t smiling ... if he wasn’t smiling ...

They’ll trick you boy, women like that. It’s all an illusion. Every smart woman knows how to use her beauty like a weapon. The not-so-smart ones use it as a shield – you’ll be safe with them.

Max shifted in her seat. ‘That’s what we discussed, Lib.’

Ha. She wasn’t even going to defend herself? It should make him feel morally superior, righteous even. But it made him feel nauseous.

‘So, you’re going to kill Skinner.’ Grey spoke like they were discussing a plan to divide up the aisles they went down in a grocery shop. ‘And save the Barbaranis, single-handedly, of course.’ Yes, it was childish of him to bring up his promise that she could take all the credit for stopping the murder, but to hell with maturity. He was the only one who’d been playing by the rules of this tentative alliance, and look where it had got him.

Max shrugged. ‘If we take out Skinner before he makes his move, hopefully that will mean no one gets killed.’

‘And what if Skinner isn’t the one planning to kill the Barbaranis?’ Grey asked.

‘You questioning my information, Mr Barbarani Man?’ Libby folded her arms, her forearm muscles two sharp rods.

‘Yes.’ He held her gaze. ‘That’s my job.’

‘Yourjob.’ She looked at Max like they were both in on a joke. They were, Grey realised. ‘That what you call what you do?’

Grey was getting increasingly uncomfortable with how much Libby Johnston seemed to know about him.

‘Kaine’s gonna be there, at that gala,’ she said.

‘How do you know?’ Grey asked.

‘He’s still my husband, in’ he?’

‘You just said you wanted to kill him.’

She scoffed. ‘Like you haven’t killed for those bastards.’

‘I haven’t.’ He could feel Max’s gaze on him. He shook it off.

Something about his answer struck Libby in a way he didn’t understand. She straightened in her seat, taller than he’d thought, all slumped over and overly comfortable. Now she was staring at him as though something had just occurred to her. ‘Like I said, Skinner’s gonna go down for murder tomorrow night.’

‘You keep saying both of those things together, but you’re not actually saying who he’s going to kill or why.’

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