Chapter 12
12
Grey
‘For fuck’s sake, Arnold!’
Grey lowered his gun immediately as he glared down at the second intruder of the day. Arnold grinned, arching his back as he dropped the red-tailed black cockatoo by Grey’s boots.
What was left of it, anyway.
‘What have I told you about murdering the wildlife?!’ Grey grabbed the fat tabby cat, lifting him away from the bird.
‘It’s dead,’ Max said, unhelpfully. ‘But I don’t think this was the murder Libby was talking about.’
‘Frankie’s going to kill Nella,’ Grey mumbled, inadvertently scratching Arnold behind his ears before remembering the cat was now on his Black List. ‘These cockatoos are endangered.’
‘It’s his instinct,’ Max said, her face transforming from fear to something that was almost kind. ‘And cats bring birds and mice to people to show them love – it’s them showing they’re pulling their weight as part of the tribe.’
‘Arnold is far more manipulative than that,’ Grey said. ‘I’ll be polite and assume your knowledge of cat psychology has nothing to do with you being a crazy cat lady.’
‘You’re the one who’s got the cat, mate.’
‘He’s Nella’s.’
‘He’s licking your hand.’
‘Urgh!’ Kicking the door open with his boot, Grey dropped Arnold in an undignified manner onto the floor. The cat did not seem to view this as a rejection of his attempt at friendship and proceeded to weave himself through Grey’s legs, presumably hoping to trip him and break his neck.
‘Don’t let him out,’ Grey ordered as Max bent down to prove she was not a certified crazy cat lady by nuzzling Arnold’s ear. ‘I’ll bring him up to the house.’ On the way to investigate a murder to appease a criminal who may or may not be in league with the La Marcas.
Go on, Greyson – prove I’m the liar you think I am.
An image, unwanted: his mouth on her skin where the cuore would be.
Christ.
Grey went to the fridge again and stared into the blue-tinged light, letting the cold, plastic air cool down his strangely warm face. As he grabbed another bottle of water, some part of him couldn’t help feeling like he’d just endured a really bad first date.
Walking into Tomaso’s springs with Max was not the best way to remain inconspicuous while gathering information for a potential murder investigation.
The squirming, fluffy bird-killer under his arm didn’t help either.
Grey knew Tomaso would be here, but he hadn’t counted on Luca and Frankie, who both sat bolt upright like meerkats peering over a hill. Frankie whispered something to Luca, who was lying on a rock, his tanned, tattooed chest bared to the steamy atmosphere. He lifted the towel from his face and appraised Max with an expression that made Grey want to kick him in the shin.
For god’s sake, Luca. It’s not like that.
The springs were essentially a sauna attached to the Barbarani private pool, which had been painstakingly designed to emulate Japanese hot springs. The tiles were a pale turquoise that had been painted over at least four times until Vittoria had declared they were good enough. Jagged rocks lined the edges, as perilous and slippery as the real thing, and thick coniferous bushes flanked the walls and climbed to the ceiling. Because of the steam, it was impossible to see the roof and you could almost convince yourself you were outside.
Grey still felt claustrophobic.
‘Why is Arnold Schwarzenegger here?’ Luca asked.
Max frowned at the cat as though, rightfully, trying to ascertain how this morbidly obese feline had received its name.
‘He’s here to tell Nella to stop letting him out,’ Grey said.
‘Why, is Arnold’s presence ruining your tough-guy look?’ Frankie asked, pulling her sleeve down over her new tattoo.
‘I don’t have a look,’ Grey said, dropping the cat a little too close to the water. But the stupid idiot landed gracefully, barely touching the pool’s edge. As Arnold sauntered off, Grey hoped no one (Frankie) noticed the feather dangling from his chin. There was officially no room in his schedule for a war between the sisters that had even more potential to ruin the gala than an attempted murder.
‘Is that him?’ Max pointed at the pale, slim figure half submerged in the steaming blue water near where Arnold had unfortunately not drowned. Tomaso’s head was resting on a flat grey rock, maroon headphones over his ears and half a bare chest with thick curls of damp hair visible above the steaming water.
‘It’s him,’ Tomaso said, eyes still closed.
‘ How can he hear? ’ Max mouthed.
‘He’s a bat,’ Grey said.
‘I don’t like being disturbed during my soaking time, Greyson,’ the eldest Barbarani boy said through a sniff. Even though Grey was just a year younger than Tomaso and proximity and age were generally enough criteria for most male friendships to form, he had always been the coldest towards Grey of the four. Even before the incident with the Porsche, for which he and Giovanni still blamed Grey, even though cars were Jett’s thing on this property.
Nella, Frankie and Luca tended to forget Grey wasn’t technically one of their own, but Tomaso was always reminding them – and Grey – that Grey was an employee. Always pushing him away with an invisible hand, all the while smiling politely. Tomaso had never said a bad word against him. But he was forever redrawing those lines between them in the sand.
‘I wouldn’t disturb you if it wasn’t important, Tom.’ Grey perched uncomfortably on the flattest rock he could find. It still stuck into him in all the wrong places.
‘Who’s your guest? This is a private spring.’ The headphones were still on, though one of Tomaso’s eyes had cracked open.
‘This is Max,’ Grey said as nonchalantly as he could. ‘She’s part of my security team.’
Tomaso sniffed and sunk deeper into the spring. ‘If you’re going to talk so loudly, you can’t be above me – it’s straining. Get in if this is so important.’
‘Tom, I really don’t have—’
‘ In .’
Grey rolled his eyes and shucked off his shirt.
Max raised her eyebrows. ‘No tattoos?’
‘You don’t put a bumper sticker on a Ferrari, Conrad.’
She drew her hair away from the serpent wrapped around her shoulder and again, he was struck by the sickening desire to mark that part of her in a different way.
‘Right,’ she said, her eyes roving slowly down his bare chest, ‘but I’m a Lamborghini.’
He swallowed a smile as Frankie and Luca snorted in unison.
Face back to professional neutrality, he glared at Max. ‘Turn around.’
She held her hands up in surrender and faced Luca and Frankie, who were pretending to have their own conversation but were actually just the loudest silent eavesdroppers Grey had ever heard. Quickly, he shoved off his jeans and tucked his thumbs under the band of his underwear. Tomaso kept his hot spring rules as strict as the Japanese did.
The water was striking hot and singed through his skin, but once he’d submerged up to his chest, the burn was almost pleasant.
‘Are you coming in too?’ Tomaso’s eyes were closed again.
Max turned back and when she saw Grey in the pool she said, ‘Turn around.’
He supposed he’d earned that. Instead, he took an enormous breath and submerged all the way. His face screamed in pleasure and horror at the heat. The pale blot of Max shucking off Nella’s singlet above him took the remaining air from his lungs.
It was the yelling that pulled him out.
Tomaso had taken off his headphones and his eyes were open and glaring at Max, who stood before them just as she had when she’d tried to get Grey to rip off her skin to prove she wasn’t working with the La Marcas. Except this time the jeans were off. Greyson focused on the back of Frankie’s head as he tried to work out how everything had gone so wrong in less than fifteen seconds.
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Max was saying, a high-pitched note in her voice that made the hairs on Grey’s neck stand on end.
‘Have you ever been to Japan?’ Tomaso demanded.
‘No. I’ve had to spend my money on other things. Like rent. And food.’
Great job, Max. That’s really going to help. He hoped all that came across in the look he gave her. Focusing only on her face. Then back to Frankie’s head, willing her to start talking about Generation IV fission reactors or whatever other carbon neutral schemes her group was always trying to conscript rich investors into caring about so that Grey did not have to think about Max’s body ...
‘You cannot come in like that – tell her, Greyson!’
Max turned to Grey. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘She cannot wear undergarments in a Japanese hot spring! No tattoos either!’
‘Oh, Jesus Christ, Tom,’ Luca piped up. ‘Get the rod out of your arse.’
‘Luca!’ Frankie said. ‘That’s homophobic!’
‘It’s an expression!’
‘The rules are the rules!’ Tomaso said, puffing out his chest. ‘In a traditional Japanese hot spring, you go in naked and you cannot have markings on your body. Some don’t even allow women at all.’
‘Well, thank god we’re not in Japan then,’ Max said sweetly.
Grey forced himself to look at her face. It was a mistake. Her cheeks were turning pink from the humidity and her hair was curling around her neck in damp wisps. He was glad no one could see his bottom half in the thick, misty water.
What was wrong with him?
‘Greyson,’ Tomaso growled.
‘Tom,’ Grey sighed, ‘in my professional opinion, I would advise against you forcing a woman to undress so she can get into your private hot spring. I’m not sure I could really spin that one for you in a positive light if the media got a hold of it.’
‘It’s not just the clothes!’ Tomaso’s face was turning redder through the humidity and his fury. ‘The tat—’
‘Yes, yes, the tattoos. We can’t change that, Tom. Wasn’t Nella in here a few days ago?’
‘I allow her every Thursday afternoon to herself.’
Grey nodded. ‘Yeah, well, Nella has a tattoo on her ankle.’
Tomaso stood up quickly. Thankfully, he wasn’t extremely tall. ‘She does not !’
‘She does.’ Grey spread his arms across the warm rocks. ‘A dove. Though I think it looks more like a lizard.’
‘That’s ... she’s ...’
Maybe this was a good thing. With Tomaso this riled up, he wouldn’t be focusing on trying to be smart with his answers. A lot of the time, when Grey needed information, Tom enacted a ‘family matters’ code, because he didn’t think Grey needed to know everything. Except of course, when the Barbarani vehicles were going to break down unexpectedly.
‘Max.’ Grey watched the white and blue patterns on the water. ‘You can get in.’
‘Undergarments off,’ Tomaso said through gritted teeth, ‘or you wait outside.’
This, Grey realised, was the deciding factor. How badly did Max want this murder solved? How much faith did she have that Libby Johnston was telling the truth? He watched her reflection. The water was too steamy to see anything, but he knew she wasn’t caving. She bobbed down and back up. He heard the familiar snap of a bra unclasping.
Lord help him.
When the soft splashes of water confirmed Max’s submersion, he looked up. Thankfully she was so short that her chin was barely out of the water. She gave him a quizzical look.
He had never been so grateful AI technology had not yet advanced to scanning thoughts. Luca and Frankie smirked at him from their little canopy of trees. Thankfully, Max couldn’t see. He’d bet his left kidney Arnold was also smirking from wherever he’d skulked off to.
‘Why the tight security?’ Tomaso asked. ‘Is someone plotting our murders?’
Frankie gave a little squeal.
Grey automatically made a shh ing sound like he was calming a baby. Like he used to help the nanny get Frankie and Luca to sleep. ‘My job is to wake up every day assuming the entire world wants you all murdered, Tom,’ Grey said.
Max swirled the skin of the water with her hands. The ripples sloshed over Tom’s chest and his glare deepened.
‘Max has some intel about a potential threat,’ Grey continued. ‘But I don’t want to alarm anyone. Could be scare tactics, could be rumours. I just need to know if you’ve noticed anyone strange coming through the winery over the past few days. Anyone who’s been asking questions about the gala or the layout of the house, anyone you’ve noticed taking pictures outside of the roof.’
Tomaso breathed out slowly. ‘You’ve just described pretty much every second customer, Greyson.’
Grey sighed. ‘Anyone that stood out to you? I trust your instincts. Of course I’ll go through the security footage, but I thought to save time ...’
‘If anyone was planning anything, it would be the La Marcas,’ Tomaso said, his irritation dissolving as Grey lathered on the compliments. ‘And I don’t let any of them into my winery.’
‘What about this guy?’ Max asked, reaching for her phone, which she’d left slightly too far out of reach on the rocky edge of the pool in a nest of Nella’s clothes. Too late for him to turn away without making it painfully obvious that’s what he was doing. She leveraged herself out of the steaming water to just above her hips and quickly re-submerged, her arm sticking out to hand Tom her phone. Quickly was not quick enough. ‘He could have been disguised. Maybe with a beard or a scarf or something.’ Grey didn’t need to look to know she’d brought up a photo of Kaine Skinner.
Tom studied the photo like it was the answers to an important test he’d be sitting soon.
After an eternity, Tom returned the phone. ‘I haven’t seen him. My apologies.’
‘Why are you worried about people taking photos of the roof?’ Luca interjected.
‘Snipers,’ Max said casually, half turning towards the second youngest Barbarani. ‘They often scope out the area before they set up, work out where they’re going to shoot from – the best angle, wind speeds, stuff like that.’
‘You need to know all this to be a security guard?’ Tomaso asked.
‘Only if you want to be good at your job,’ Max replied.
‘Has this got something to do with the compromised wine?’ Tom asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Grey said honestly, running a hand over his jaw. He really needed to stop doing that and just shave.
‘There is no way that wine was contaminated,’ Tom said. ‘Absolutely no way.’ Grey could tell he was burning to ask more; he’d been personally affronted when Grey brought it up at the family meeting, because the running of the winery was all Tom. Gio was the figurehead, Tom was the rest of the body.
‘You mean there’s no way it was contaminated in your winery,’ Max said, eyebrows raised. ‘The wine still goes through a few processes and middle-men before it goes to the stores or the restaurants, right? Something could have happened to it there.’
Grey glared at her. Leave it alone .
Why? she glared back.
It’s not connected to this murder plot. Let it go.
Make me.
Of course he was just guessing at what Max’s expressions meant. But he figured from the look she gave him after that last one that he was pretty accurate.
‘I want to cross-check the final guest list for the gala with recent purchases from the winery,’ Grey said. ‘Will you give me access to those credit card statements?’
Tom shrugged. ‘I’ll have to check with Giovanni.’
Grey would never get used to Tom calling Gio by his first name instead of ‘Dad’ or ‘Papa’ like the rest of the kids. ‘It’s sort of urgent, Tom.’
‘Well, I’ll sort of prioritise it then.’
Grey shook his head. He was about to protest and maybe even get Luca to chime in to assist when the message tone he saved for Jett buzzed from the rocks behind him. Having been more strategic than Max with the placement of his belongings, he grabbed his phone with ease but it took three attempts to unlock the screen with his damp, wrinkly fingers.
‘ Fuck .’
‘Please don’t swear in the hot spring.’
‘Shut up. Hand me that towel, will you, Frank?’
‘What’s wrong?’ He barely heard Max over the rushing in his ears and Tomaso’s protests at being spoken to that way in his own hot spring.
The towel Frankie had thrown at him tight around his waist, Grey clambered over the rocks and speed-dialled number 1.
‘It’s lunchtime, Greyson.’ Giovanni spoke as though Grey had thrown a rock through his bedroom window.
‘I know, signore. I wouldn’t disturb you if it wasn’t important.’
‘What is it?’
‘Poppy Raven’s dead.’