Page 114 of The Woman at the Funeral

“Blair said Matt was having second thoughts at the end. That’s why the files and laptop were so stashed. He was going back on a deal.”

“From a personal standpoint, that’s good, I guess. From a professional one, though, it just means—”

“That there is a crew in the city and hell-bent on taking us down. And they’ve got a lot of money.”

“Yep,” Leo agreed. “Well, it wouldn’t be organized crime if there wasn’t someone gunning for us. We’ll figure this out like we always have in the past.”

Yeah, we would.

I had a lot more riding on it than ever before.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Blair

I don’t remember much about the day following my abduction. I slipped in and out of a sleep that clawed at me, pulling me back down each time I tried to surface.

In those brief moments of consciousness, panic swelled. Part of it, I was sure, was just the aftermath of the drugs, but also the fear of how exhausted I felt, how hard it was for me to stay awake.

Each time, though, Nico was right there with me, pulling me close, murmuring reassurances, stroking my hair.

At some point, he’d forced me to sip a sports drink and eat some cheese before I passed back out.

It was the following morning, with the sun already bright and golden in the sky.

I was alone in the bed.

No Nico.

No Goya.

But on the good side, I was fully awake, and the headache seemed to have finally vanished.

I climbed out of bed carefully, waiting for any lingering dizziness. But it never came.

“Thank God,” I said as I made my way to the bathroom to shower and brush the tangles out of my hair.

When I went back to the room to steal another of Nico’s shirts, I found my own clothing in his closet.

Knowing I’d heard a revolving door of voices in the apartment between moments of consciousness, I chose slacks and a simple blouse. But I didn’t bother with earrings or tying back my hair.

I walked out into the main area of the house and gasped to find a stranger standing there.

“Sorry, babe,” the man said, holding up his hands. “I’m Miko,” he told me. But the name meant nothing. “I work with Nico. He just took the dog out. He’ll be right back.”

I seemed frozen on the spot, though, still unsure.

“You scaring the poor woman?” Leo asked, coming in from the balcony. “Miko’s good people,” he told me. “You feeling better?”

“So much better,” I admitted.

“Can I get you some coffee?”

“God, yes.”

“And how about something to eat?”

“I can—”

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