Page 108 of Intent to Kill
He released a long breath as he embraced her in his arms, folding them across her stomach and leaning in to brush her cheek with his own.
Brushing aside her fears just once as they both watched the flames licking at the expensive yacht in front of them, she sighed in contentment. Just enough to whisper, “I’ve missed you.”
19
A GOOD LIE
MAY 1991
It took a week for Antonio’s body to be recovered by divers and officially identified. Even though everyone knew it was him on that yacht. What was a mystery was how much Dorian knew. Antonio had been sent after them, that much was clear. But... well, Dorian became a closed book. Which was smart of him, unfortunately.
Mercedes and T.B. sat on the sofa in the main floor living room, tension palpable. For over an hour, since the official news of Antonio’s death, Dorian had been locked in his office.
Mercedes didn’t bother to try a sideways look at T.B., only the sloshing of ice against his crystal glass confirmed his presence. The silence may have been because they never really got along, or because in some weird way they were the last ones standing.
Only two to go.
Mercedes suppressed the delightful curling of her lip.
“Then there were two,” T.B. said. He must’ve been thinking the same thing. Though, perhaps he wasn’t as pleased about it as she was.
“Then there were two.” They clinked their glasses in a weird show of solidarity.
Clicking footsteps sounded down the marbled staircase and Dorian entered, his usually neat hair a disheveled nest, and his tie half undone.
“Honey,” Mercedes said, getting up to hug him. “I’m sorry about Antonio.”
Dorian pushed her off, wriggling out of her grip. “Don’t be. He was a useless piece of shit anyway.”
Widening her eyes at T.B., Mercedes sank back into the sofa. Rage was good, though, rage was not calculated. It was passionate and reckless. It was the kind of thing that got people killed.
“What are you thinking, boss? Paul, Carlos, or Dan?” T.B. said.
“All of them,” Dorian said, stopping Mercedes’s heart. “And none of them.” But there was a catching in his throat that made her think he was lying. He had always tried to lie to her about Paul.
“What are you talking about?” Mercedes said, innocently as she could. She’d play dumb as long as she could get away with.
“Whoever is after Dorian must be associated with Adam Vandemilio,” T.B. began to explain, trailing off slowly at the end. Mercedes puckered her lips, what she hoped was an excellent façade of cluelessness.
“It wasn’t them who killed Antonio,” Dorian said. “At first I thought it was, because I’d sent Antonio to follow them, but they have solid alibis.”
Mercedes relaxed slightly. But she didn’t dare loosen her breath, the conversation was still laced with subtext.
“So if it’s not them...” T.B. said.
“There’s only one person it could be,” Dorian said.
The two of them shared an evil grin, as if they both understood perfectly. But Mercedes needed to be sure.
“Who’s that now?”
Dorian chuckled and poured a drink, taking a sip. “The fifth guy.” He raised his glass knowingly to T.B., who only egged him on further by nodding in ridiculous agreement.
“You can’t be serious,” Mercedes sighed, folding lazily into the sofa.
“There was always a driver on Adam’s crew,” T.B. said. “Paul, Dan, Carlos—none of them are drivers.”
“And what does that prove?” Mercedes said.
