Caterina
I lurch upright, a cold, sweaty panic breaking over my neck and chest as a woman’s scream rattles me to consciousness.
The noise continues, clawing at my eardrums. She sounds like she’s being murdered.
Like…
I shove Tony’s face from my mind and shake the covers beside me to rouse my bedmate. “Connor, there’s…”
The sheets are hollow.
No Connor.
I jump from the bed and check the bathroom.
No Connor.
Shit. No time to find him.
I leave my room, following the screams down the halls and grand staircase, praying the tortured noises have nothing to do with the man missing from my bed.
My breath locks in my chest as the shrieks grow louder. When I realize where they’re coming from, my feet slow.
I freeze at the edge of the hall, peering into the dark.
Father!
I sprint the rest of the way into my father’s suite, bursting through the open door to his bedroom.
His night nurse, Lora, lies over his legs, wailing into the sheets.
“Lora, what happened? Are you hurt?” I cross the room in a few strides and touch her back. “What is it? Do you need an ambulance?”
She jerks, peering up at me with wide, foggy eyes before she registers my identity.
Her face crumples. “Oh, Miss Ricci…” She clutches the hem of my shirt, her shoulder shaking with a new round of sobs. “Miss Ricci, I… I’m so sorry…”
I grasp her hands, my eyes wide, my chest tight. “Sorry? Lora, I don’t…”
My gaze flicks away from her and up the bed.
My father’s hands lie pale against the peach bedsheet. That’s not right. His skin was a healthy olive earlier tonight. Is he cold?
My eyes travel over his still stomach and keep going until I encounter strange red stains on his chest and shoulders. That won’t come out easy. I’ll have to have Marlene treat his clothes well before washing…
An ugly gash mars his throat, the ragged edges obvious even in the moonlight.
His pale gray face stares up at the ceiling with open, unseeing eyes.
“Father?” I stumble toward him, my fingers falling on his shoulder.
They come away warm, clammy, and covered in deep crimson.
No air enters my lungs, and a weird ringing stings my ears.
A few moments tick by before I register the burning ache in my vocal chords and realize I’m the one screaming now.
My father is dead.
I collapse to my knees at his side, my hands clutching the sheet over his chest. “Father, no. Father, please…”
Warm arms hug me from behind. “Miss Ricci, come. Please come…”
I whirl around to cling to Lora, weeping against her chest as she embraces me.
No. No no no no…
This isn’t real. It’s a dream. Just a nightmare.
My dad…he…
Nino rushes in. “Father! Cat!” He charges to the bed, yanking me up out of Lora’s arms.
I cling to him as he quakes and cries.
I no longer trust my own sense of self. Where do I begin? Where does grief end?
Finally, Nino guides me to the recliner by the bed and sits me down. “I’m sorry, Cat.”
Why is he sorry? He’s just as orphaned as I am now. I attempt to say as much, but the anguish tightens my throat, and I choke on my own tears.
Nino brushes my hair from my face. I try to look at him, but saltwater blurs my vision. I can only see a blurry outline.
At some point, he leaves my side and brings back a glass of water. I spill a little as I sip.
Then the only thing I see is my father’s beautiful, broken, gray face.
He was getting better. He was going to be okay. We’d just saved his life.
I killed a man to make this happen.
I find Nino at my side again. “We were just getting him back.” I crumble, racked with fresh sobs. How did this happen?
“Cat.” Nino kneels down in front of me, his hand resting on my knee. “Look at me.” He holds my gaze until I catch my breath. “I know who did this.” His eyes are bright, his mouth a scowl. “That’s why I hadn’t woken you yet. We caught the bastard.”
I wipe my forearm across my eyes, smearing my tears. “What? Who?”
“Connor Gallagher. The Mick broke into the house in the middle of the night to murder our father and steal the Bonasera diamond.”
An ice pick stabs my chest. “What?” What’s my brother saying? “No, Nino, no—”
“The diamond is gone, and we found him near the vault.”
“No, Nino. That’s not possible. Connor…” I trail off.
What am I even trying to say? That Connor’s in lust with me? That he’d never do something so cold and sinister and calculating? That he’d never dupe me in the name of some grand mission he and Declan concocted?
He’s already done so once. What’s to stop him from doing so again?
But Connor wouldn’t kill my father. He knows how much the man means to me. He would never…
He would steal the Bonasera diamond, though. That is absolutely the kind of thing Connor Gallagher would do.
My lungs twist in my chest.
The Bonasera diamond would explain much of his ruse. Why he posed as Dane Ryder to find a way into my family home via my pants. Why he planted cameras everywhere and put such effort into working with me despite our families being enemies.
But why kill my father?
“That…that doesn’t make sense, Nino.” I hiccup around a sob. “There’s no way he’d do this.”
“We have that Mick in custody, Cat. But his partner, another damn King, disappeared over the wall with the diamond.”
“But…the alliance…” I crumble again, terrified by so many new truths that weren’t part of my existence when I fell asleep with Connor by my side.
My heart clenches as the room spins. My stomach heaves.
“The alliance with the Gallaghers is over. This is war.” Nino rises, glaring at our father and balling his fists. His face burns red. “They’re all going to die for this!”
He smashes a vase from Father’s bedside table on the floor with an earsplitting crack before stalking from the room.
I shudder and hug myself. Whoever killed our father… I almost feel sorry for them.
I know it wasn’t Connor. It can’t be.
The truth hardly matters, though, because the blame will fall on him regardless. I don’t see any way out for him.
This betrayal will be my undoing.
I reach out and touch my father’s cold but soft hand, his skin like paper.
As I rub my aching head, my bracelet glints in the moonlight.
Lora shuffles to my side. “I’ll clean him up,” she says, her voice thick with tears. “He deserves his dignity.” She smooths her bathrobe and robotically heads out. Probably to grab a bucket of water and some washcloths.
I’d all but forgotten she was still in the room, weeping over a crime scene
that no police or forensic techs will ever investigate. That’s not how we handle wrongdoing in this family, not even in the event of a murdered boss. We handle things ourselves.
As reality settles in, anger takes root.
I’m going to kill you, Connor!
Why’d I let him into my life?
How could I have been so clueless?
I have to find Nino and get as many details as possible.
Before leaving the bedroom, I lean in to kiss my father’s forehead, though I can’t bear to look at his throat. With the office door open, I can hear Nino pacing inside.
I pause to give him a moment because he’s suffering too. Men in our circles rarely have the luxury of grieving their loved ones.
His voice penetrates the cracked door. “That’s what I’m telling you. He met with his executor at the gala, before the Gallaghers showed. They drew up a new will.”
The will? Who’s my brother on the phone with? Why does our father’s will matter?
I frown, unable to swirl my thoughts into some semblance of sanity.
One of my last memories of my father from the other night surfaces.
Is…could…did someone murder him because of the will?
I rush to my room and throw myself down on my bed, burrowing under the covers.
Connor’s scent—orange and smoke—permeates the sheets. Sobbing, I clutch a pillow to my chest.
I can’t take this.
After an hour, maybe two, the chaos outside my bedroom door quiets down. The house lies still, mourning my father’s death.
With my SIG 9mm in hand, I slip down the halls to where I know they must be keeping Connor.
I’ll deal with this bastard myself. Avenge my father.
A few guards stand near the prison wing, conversing quietly as they share a cigarette. I sneak past them easily and turn the corner, closing the door that separates the cells from the house.
The space is soundproofed for interrogation, which fits tonight’s needs perfectly.
Connor’s cell is down at the end, the farthest one from the main house.
From between the bars, I can glimpse him in the shadows, his head in his hands, his back hunched against the cinderblock wall. His body language exudes guilt.
I release the safety on the gun.
The click echoes in the quiet, a rookie move.
He jerks his head in my direction as I slip out from behind the cover of the wall.
“Cat.” He’s upright in a flash, his fingers curling around the cell bars. “Cat, wait—”
I raise the gun, my hand steadier than it’s ever been. “How could you?”
“I’m sorry. Declan…but I’m done listening to him. I’ve had hours to consider this, and you’re all that—”
“Declan?” I bark a laugh. Is he serious? “You might hate your own father, but I loved mine, Connor. He was everything to me.” Tears burn my eyes again. Since they’re my new norm, I don’t bother wiping them away.
He frowns. “I know. I envy how much you love your dad. I promise you—”
“So, you killed him because you were jealous?”
I’m trying so hard to keep it together, but my voice trembles anyway, and tears stream down my cheeks. I just want to shoot him between the eyes.
Images of Tony, of my father, keep flashing through my mind, splicing with Connor’s face.
His eyebrows shoot up into the curls framing his cheeks. “Killed him? Killed who? Cat, what are you—”
“Shut up! I know you did it!” I suck in a breath. Calm down, or you’ll never do this.
Connor shakes his head furiously, his eyes darting everywhere. Is he…deliberating? Searching for an excuse? A guilty man who can’t meet my eyes?
“Cat, no.” He either reaches for me or the gun, but the bars block him at his biceps. “Cat, listen to me.”
Unfortunately for him, I’m out of range and the one holding the deadly weapon. “No, you listen to me. I’m sick of you messing with me, Connor. I’m sick of your shit.”
“I’m not messing with you. I promise. Hey, maybe no one killed your dad. Did you consider that? Maybe the antitoxin stopped working or had the reverse effect. Did you call 911? Did anyone try and revive him?”
How dare he even suggest that. I lower the gun, surging forward to grab the front of his shirt. “Fuck you, Connor! His throat’s been slit with that knife of yours!”
Connor releases a giant breath but doesn’t try to touch me again.
“Listen to me. I’m dressed like this because I was going to steal the Bonasera diamond for Declan.
I don’t know who murdered your father or why.
Look.” Carefully, he hikes up his pant leg.
“My knife’s been right here since Tony. You can check it. ”
“I don’t want to touch your damn knife.” I really don’t. I do notice that he’s dressed like a jewel thief, though I don’t understand why. I release his shirt and retreat, raising the gun again. “You’re going to die for this, Connor Gallagher.”
“I’m so sorry—”
“I said shut up! You’re a liar and a thief, and I’m sorry I ever met you.
” I inch closer, pointing the gun right between his eyes.
“You’re not going to be as lucky as Verone.
I’m going to blow your pretty face off for what you’ve done to me.
” I’m sobbing openly now, just as I did at my father’s bedside two hours ago.
I don’t care. I hope my heartbreak is the last thing Connor Gallagher sees before I end his life.
I hope he understands just how much he’s torn me apart.
Connor slips his hand through the bars and snatches the barrel of the gun.
“No!” I jerk back, trying to pry the weapon from his grip, but he’s too strong.
He presses it to his forehead. “Do it, Cat. Shoot me if you believe I did this.” He pushes his face between the bars. “I did not kill your father. Why would I after we negotiated an alliance? Plus, I liked the guy.”
The gun trembles in my hand, so shaky that I’d probably drop it if he weren’t holding it up. “Connor, I can’t… I don’t…” I cough, struggling for air as the grief and anger eat me alive. “He’s dead, Connor!”
He tilts his head so the muzzle is flush with his temple. “If you really believe I killed Eduardo, then shoot me right now. I want you to.”
“I’ll do it.” Thanks to my tears, his face blurs. Lucky for me, at this range, I could kill him blindfolded.
“I’m guilty of attempting to steal the diamond, but I would never kill your father. I’d never do that to you. Why would I want Eduardo dead?” His voice cracks. “Why would I want to see you like this?”
That’s my line. Why would he do this?
I attempt to think like Connor Gallagher. What reason would he have to kill Eduardo, head of the Ricci family? What would he gain from Eduardo’s demise?
Nothing. I can’t come up with a single logical reason. East or West Coast, the Gallaghers don’t benefit from my father’s death. Weakening our family only increases the probability of a Russian takeover. We’re stronger together. Finn knows that. I’m sure Declan does too.
Connor has a knife in his boot, and he could take my gun away if he wanted to. Kill me and save himself. Let’s face it, I’m no match for his strength or guile.
I study him, the gun’s muzzle denting his temple.
His show of faith has completely disarmed me, and with every ounce of my being…
I know Connor didn’t kill my father.
He was willing to give up his life to me. That’s how much he trusts me.
He knows me like no other. Well, maybe not as well as my father did, but close.
He certainly knows me better than Nino.
Connor Gallagher might be the only person left in this world that I can depend on.
But where does that leave me?
Can I set him free? Doing so would mean turning my back on Nino, on the family. Do I have the strength—with my father no longer in the picture—to follow my heart and trust my gut?
Father said a real leader thinks outside the box and chooses the course of action that benefits all, even if it means betraying a member of their own family.
And now, cruel fate has forced me to honor him.
The gun is so heavy, and I’m so very tired, but I can’t seem to lower the weapon as I hang my head and sob.