Page 62 of The Woman at the Funeral

“Yes, he is,” Blair agreed as the dog wiggled and licked her face.

Once I closed her in, I climbed in next to Brio, who shared a hard look with me.

We both knew how bad this was.

Even if one of these papers ended up in the wrong hands.

If fucking Matt sold digital versions…

No.

I couldn’t get ahead of myself.

“You smell like coconut,” Blair said, making me glance back to see her rest her head into the dog’s neck. Like she was seeking comfort.

And why wouldn’t she?

She’d not only just found out that I was in the mob, but that her husband was a potential mass murderer. And, of course, that her life was in danger.

Brio and I both had our eyes on a swivel, though we tried not to make it obvious to Blair, who didn’t need any more stress.

“He had a bath at the shelter,” Brio said.

“He lives at the shelter?” Blair asked, sounding suddenly sad.

“I take him for a walk every week with hisAdopt Mebandana, hoping someone’ll fall for him.”

“Who wouldn’t fall for you?” she asked, getting another kiss for her words. “Is he coming in?” she asked when Brio pulled up in front of Lorenzo’s brownstone.

“Yep, you got him?” Brio asked. But he didn’t wait for an answer. He climbed out, leaned against the car, and watched the street, sidewalk, and buildings.

Blair got the dog’s leash as I opened the door for her, and the two climbed out onto the sidewalk.

She eyed the guards curiously, but said nothing as I led her up the front steps, Brio close behind us, using his own body as a shield.

“Does he have a name?” she asked when she noticed how close Brio was.

“Yeah. It’s Goya.”

“Goya?” Blair asked, eyes widening as the door opened.

I wasn’t going to ruin her surprise by telling her that he was probably named after the beans, not the artist.

But then Emilio was moving aside to let us in.

“Should I wait out here?” Blair asked, waving to the hallway as Emilio and Brio moved into the dining room where Emilio was already waiting.

“No, Blair,” Lorenzo said, rising and waving toward empty seats at the table. “I think we need to ask you a few questions first.”

“It’s okay,” I told her, pressing a hand to the small of her back.

“Just a couple,” Lorenzo assured her, picking up on her uncertainty. “We’re just waiting for a few more of the capos to get here,” he told me. “That way, we only have to go over everything once.” He turned to Blair as she sat next to me, Goya the dog sitting between her and Lorenzo. “You doing okay?” he asked her.

“I… yeah.”

“It’s understandable if you’re not,” he said. “Just making it clear, no one here is blaming you for Matt’s actions. Unless you were the one to write the documents.”

“I can barely read it,” she admitted.

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