Page 40 of Salvatore

She stares at the view, silent for a few heartbeats. “I have a cousin.” Her voice is softer now. “We don’t risk reaching out often, but when you and your uncle first came to town it must’ve caused enough waves within the cartel for her to give me the heads-up.”

“And yet you still came to my brother’s club last weekend.”

She turns to me, pointing the bottle in my direction. “That wasnotmy idea. I told Olivia time and time again that Smoke & Mirrors was shady. But she wouldn’t listen.” She stares at me a moment, her brow furrowing. “Whywouldn’t she listen?”

I let her bask in whatever thoughts race through her head.

“Your brother was the one with her when she called earlier, right?” she asks.

I incline my head.

“But she wasn’t scared.” She raises the vodka bottle, taking another gulp. “She seemed fine.” She’s talking to herself now as she lowers her attention to frown at the tile. “Does she know who he is?”

“She knows.”

Ivy’s gaze snaps to mine. “Everything? Like what your family is involved in?”

“For the most part.”

She blinks at me, eyes widening. “Then why leave with him after the funeral? Why still be with him now? I don’t get it. I’m missing something.”

From the confusion etched into her features I think she’s missing a whole heap of somethings, which is good news. It sounds like our personal crematorium, aka body disposer, is also under the radar.

I pour another finger of whiskey and shoot it down, the alcohol already infiltrating my veins and warming me from the inside. “It seems you two have a lot of secrets.”

“No. Liv tells me everything. And apart from my past, I do the same.”

“Apart from your past?” I smirk. “So you mean apart from the fact you’re living a double life.”

Her face hardens and she turns back to the windows, swigging from the vodka bottle like a sailor.

“You might want to slow down on the liquor.” I ignore my own advice and pour myself another. “When was the last time you ate?”

She mutters something under her breath. Something aboutLiv. Aboutbullshit,that fucking club, andwhat the hell is going on?

“Did you take Olivia against her will yesterday?” She swings back toward me and storms in my direction. “Did you threaten her like you threatened me?”

“There were no threats.”

She stops before me and claps the vodka bottle on the counter. “She was crying.”

“She was grieving,” I counter.

She raises her chin. “How long have you known her?”

“I don’t. We’ve barely spoken a handful of?—”

“But she knows your brother. And he knew Carlo. There was a photo of them at the funeral.”

She’s creeping closer to the truth, and I need to shut it down. For her sake as well as my family’s. But watching her piece the puzzle together is addictive. The flare of her eyes when understanding dawns. The deep set of her frown when things don’t make sense.

“How long?” she demands. “How long have they all known each other?”

I shrug. “Maybe nine or ten months.”

A look of horror steals across her face, her eyes frantic, her lips parted. “Oh my god,” she rasps. “Is he mystery guy?”

I give her a skeptical look. “I don’t know what that?—”

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