Page 33 of Murder & Mayhem

“You said the Antonellis took her? But you both talk about her as if she’s dead. How can you be so sure?” I tilt my head back to see his expression, taking in the sadness in his eyes and the tight lines around his mouth.

He turns his head to meet my searching gaze. “If she’s not dead, then I can’t bear to think what sort of life she’s been subjected to. The Antonellis may have willing girls in their sex clubs, but that doesn’t mean they have any issues using unwilling girls for their own financial gain.” I shiver at the realization of that statement, unable to even comprehend what a life subjected to that would be like. I can understand why Cain refuses to believe his sister is still alive. Even if she was alive, if the Antonellis sold her, he would probably never find her.

Sometimes, death isn’t the worst possible outcome.

Chapter 13

I’m back in the ice cream parlor, deliberatelynotthinking about the bridge I built with Cain the night he brought me here. That night, we connected on a deeper level. I felt it, and I know he did too. Even if he is refusing to acknowledge it. With Cain, every time I think we’re making headway, that we’re beginning to understand one another and get on the same page, he switches things up and pulls back. We’ve had several intimate moments now where each of us has peeled back our layers, and every time afterward, I can sense him withdrawing. He goes back to calling me stripper and acting like he’s only interested in sex. He’s doing the same at the minute, only talking to me if we’re discussing the Antonellis or Belle Donne. Even then, he’s careful to maintain his distance, never getting too close or touching me. He no longer sits on the sofa if Oliver and I are there, and despite the way his eyes roam over me, burning me up, he never lets his gaze linger. It’s fucking infuriating. Ever since Oliver told me his friends are in poly relationships and that he’d be open to one, I can’t get the thought of having something more with Cain out of my head. Which is insane because it wasn’t even something I was considering until he brought it up.

Then I started picturing it, and now I can’t stop.

The ding of the bell above the door pulls me out of my inner thoughts as I lift my gaze and watch as Enzo steps into the shop, looking impeccable in his three-piece suit and polished shoes. His dirty blond hair is neatly styled, perfectly finishing the whole ensemble. I still can’t get over how right it looks on him. It just emphasizes how fucking wrong he looked in worn jeans and a t-shirt, making it all the more laughable that I never thought to question who he was before.

I had texted him after my little conversation with Dante, demanding a meeting—something that is becoming far too regular a thing for my liking. However, there is only one reason why my start date at Belle Donne would match up with the night I bullshitted my way into the club to kill Chad. And there’s only one person who could have put that date on my file. Enzo seems to know all my secrets, and it’s past time I confronted him about it. He caught me off guard before, dropping that little bomb about the Reaper right as I was leaving, but I need to know what he plans on doing with the information or what he wants from me in exchange for his silence.

His eyes are on mine as he walks toward my booth—the same one as last time—and slips into the seat opposite me. He doesn’t say anything, nor do I expect him to.Icalled this meeting after all. Tilting my head to one side, my face is perfectly expressionless as I ask, “Why does my employee file at Belle Donne have a start date of two weeks before I even approached you about it?” It’s too much of a coincidence, and I’m done ignoring this shit and not asking questions.

There’s a flash of a smirk before he conceals it. “I didn’t realize I’d gotten you a job in the back office. ‘Cause, that’s the only reason I can think of as to why you’d be looking in your file.”

I purse my lips. “You know I was there that night.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Fucking hell, we’re just going around and around in circles here. “You know I killed that guy. Someone who spent a lot of money in your casino, whose death wouldn’t have gone unnoticed by higher-ups. Yet you haven’t ratted me out.” I cross my arms in front of me on the table and lean forward. “So tell me, Enzo, what is it you want from me?”

“Who says I want anything from you?” he fires back.

“Because nobody does anything for nothing in this town. You wouldn’t risk your position if you didn’t wantsomethingin return for your silence.”

His steady, bright green eyes hold mine before giving a thoughtful nod. “You’re right. I do want something.” Although his response isn’t unexpected, my body tenses as I wait to hear what his demands are. “Just not yet. When the time is right, I’ll let you know what I want.”

My brows furrow, and my lips flatten, not liking the thought of owing him one. Or of not knowing what it is he wants. I stare him down for a long moment, trying to push past the veil over his eyes and pry into his inner thoughts, but he’s a fucking vault. I purse my lips, reluctantly accepting that I have no other choice but to wait until he decides to show me his cards.

“How is the job going?” he asks, changing the conversation.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

Now it’s his turn to look annoyed. “No one’s giving you a hard time?” His question only confuses me. It’s one he asks pretty frequently, but I have no idea why. Why does he care? What would he do if I actually said yes?

“I can more than handle myself.”

Still not looking pleased, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope. “What the fuck is that?” I bite out in an angry snarl reminiscent of the last time he tried to hand the envelope over to me.

He rolls his eyes. “This month's payment… what else would it be?”

“I told you before, I’m not taking that. Our littlearrangementis over.”

He holds the envelope of cash in his hands, sighing. “Don’t be so difficult, Sawyer. There’s no reason we can’t continue like normal.”

I bark out a laugh.Is he for real?“First of all, don’t call me that. Secondly, no, we can’t. I don’t do business with the Antonellis. Besides, I don’t have any information for you.”

Even though he looks displeased, he thankfully doesn’t argue with me, tucking the envelope of cash back into the inner pocket of his jacket. All the while, he stares at me thoughtfully, tilting his head slightly to one side. “Why don’t you like people calling you by your name?”

My eyes narrow on him. “I don’t likeyoucalling me that.” It’s not exactly true. I don’t like anyone other than Luc calling me by my real name. It feels too intimate, too reminiscent of whom I used to be before I was forced to grow up. But it’s not just that… I don’t like the way Ilikethe sound of my name on his lips. The way it rolls off his tongue like hot cocoa on a stormy day making you feel all warm and cozy inside. Someone like Enzo should not elicit warm, fuzzy feelings. He’s a snake in the grass, hiding in plain sight, waiting to strike. His pink, pillowy lips might look inviting, but if I leaned in, he’d sooner pierce me with his fangs and inject me with venom. He’s poison wrapped up in a pretty package, and I’m not going to fall for it. For him.

“Would you prefer I call youReaper?”

My gaze turns ice-cold. “Only if you want me to slice open your abdomen and rip out your insides.”

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