Page 17 of His Deadly Lies

“Trust me when I tell you that we are on the right path. The Vittorios will be the top of the pyramid. And once we are there—”

“We will spend the rest of our lives fighting to maintain our position,” I interrupt. “The same as the Balestras.” But it’s a small moment of vulnerability I know better than to show in front of her again.

“When have you ever backed down from a fight?” Her smile is pure iron. I always joke to people; don’t let Yvette's pretty face fool you. She’s a viper in disguise. “Knock it off. You’re going to scare me.”

Blood and murder have never scared my sister.

We’ve already seen too much.

5

CARTER

“I’m going to have to make a quick stop before the meeting. Have Ricardo ready to meet me. I don’t want to wait for him to change his clothes again,” I tell her. “And no, I’m not going to get your fucking dry cleaning.”

The soft petting motion from before turns into a harsh tap of reprimand. “Fine. I’ll do it myself,” she finishes.

It’s just a little bit of recon, I assure myself.

A quick trip to Lakeside to assure me the heiress in question isn’t a fucking vegetable. I sure as shit need to see her in person. Edward Balestra might try to pull a fast one on us.

I cut through midmorning traffic with the sun at exactly the wrong angle. The hospital parking lot is already packed full, though. I pull into a guest parking space and stare at the entrance to the hospital, slowly pulling a pair of latex gloves out of my pocket and slipping each finger inside. Surgical grade.

This might get messy.

Inside, I cut through the people milling in the lobby and flash a charming smile at the nurse behind the desk. “Hi, sweetheart.”

She’s not young by any means. There are crow’s feet on either side of her eyes and gray flashing through her hair. Still chugging away, though. Still working her ass off.

I know the feeling.

Her eyes are bright and chipper, though, as she sets them on me with an appraising glint and a bit of desire. “May I help you, sir?” she began.

“Yes, darling.” I lean on the counter, elbow extended, the smile in place. “I’m supposed to grab my son’s scrubs from the locker room since he’s passed out at home. Seems to me the boy can’t remember anything, least of all his head, and at least that’s screwed onto his body.”

It’s another role, I think as the nurse eyes me closer. The silver fox. Not one I ever thought I’d embrace but going silver early on in life leaves you with two options: acceptance of hair dye, and I’ll be fucked if I let anyone splash a bottle of black on my head.

I continue with the excuse and bump up the appeal. Not too much, or she’ll get suspicious, but just enough to get her guard down.

Finally, the receptionist caves. “Do you know where the locker room is, sir?”

“I was hoping you’d be able to show me.” I wink.

She glances left and right before saying, “I really shouldn't do this, and I’m not supposed to leave my post while Polly is on break. The locker room is right down the hall on the left. There’s a sign on the door. You’ll be in and out? You swear?”

A bit of heat enters her voice at the last statement. Got you. “Of course, darling,” I purr in a gruff undertone. “In and out is my specialty.”

I hold her gaze as I push away from the counter, drumming on the surface with my fingers. Her cheeks pink in a pretty flush and she reaches down into the front pocket of her scrubs to receive the key.

“Here you go, Mr.…” she trails off.

Grabbing the keys, I palm them, allowing a bit of heat to show on my face as well. “Thank you.”

That’s all I say before I take off.

Much too easy. The staff here should be embarrassed, honestly, but it’s not my place to look a gift horse in the mouth, no matter how badly incompetence frustrates me. Not to mention Lakeside is owned by the Balestras in one form or another.

It’s an even easier matter to find the locker room and make my way inside, pocketing the keys and locating an open locker. Some schmuck always thinks their stuff is safe. Lesson to the public: lock your shit.

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