Page 11 of Lethal Bliss

“Yes, they did.”

CHAPTER 6

Flora

“Mygodfather is dead,” Enzo says after ending the call.

His face is a still lake. There isn’t a hint of emotion on it. He stands and walks away from the computer to the longest sofa in the room and plops down with a sigh.

I walk over there to join him. “I’m so sorry, Enzo.”

He shrugs. “You didn’t kill him. The police did.”

“But why?”

“They’re aligning with some other family,” he replies. “I’m not yet sure which.” Now his jaw tightens. A storm is brewing beneath the lake. “They didn’t even let him have his day in court. They knew he’d have gotten off. So they killed him, probably slaughtered him like an animal, like he was nothing.”

I place a hand on his shoulder, not exactly sure what to say to him or what to do.

“They don’t want to stop at betrayal,” he says. “They want to annihilate us.”

The recording is probably useless to him now. Proving Franklin Benetti’s innocence isn’t going to bring him back to life.

I caress his shoulder gently, hoping to offer him whatever comfort I can with my presence or my warmth. It’s a wonderhow calm he still is, the direct opposite of my state of emotional wreck after Richard Wells was gunned down.

“Everything will be alright,” I tell him.

He turns to me with a quizzical look. “How?”

For a moment, my head is blank because I have no idea why I said that. “I, err… I… don’t know,” I stutter. “I just know that things always even out eventually.”

“They don’t, Flora. You know enough not to really believe that. We iron things out; we don’t sit and hope they’ll even out.”

I give him a quick nod. “I’ll put out the story about Carter’s real murderers. I’ll dig deeper into this whole thing, find a connection. I’ll do whatever it takes to expose them for this.”

He stares at me for a long while without a word. I can’t quite put a finger on what I see in his eyes, but I know I don’t want him to look away. There’s something in those eyes that reaches out to me in a way that words cannot convey. It’s like a quiet call for help from a man who is not allowed to be vulnerable or to ask for help.

For all I know, he probably has a target on his back right now, put there by some corrupt elements in the police department. He might be a highly capable man, but having to contend with cops is a challenge I’m sure he isn’t keen about.

Weirdly, it makes me want to protect him, even though I’m the weaker one, alive tonight solely by his efforts. I want to do everything possible to make things easier for him.

“I have a contact who can help me track the movement of the car that day,” I tell him and lean on his body in a half hug. “from Raymond Carter’s house. If it ends up at the warehouse, then we have more to go on.”

He nods slowly in acquiescence, but he doesn’t take his eyes off mine. “It’ll end up at the warehouse.”

Somehow the air feels thicker. Breathing takes more effort, so I only permit myself shallow inhalations. “You’re sure,” I say.

“I am.”

The wrong ideas float around my head. This is the worst possible time for them. I should fling them out immediately, but I can’t, not while he has me locked down with his eyes and his lips are so close.

I want to look away, to pull away, but I can’t. I sit there next to him with my hand on his shoulder and my breasts grazing his arm while holding his gaze and waiting.

At least, he heaves a sigh and turns away.

Disappointment floods my being.

He rises from the sofa. “I’m going to shower,” he says. “Nobody in the building ever comes down here. So if anybody knocks on that door, let me know. I don’t think Jacob and the others can find us here. But I don’t want to take any chances.”