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I walk over to the dead man and stand over him but pause before I do anything to address Rowan’s answer. The last thing she needs is to hear gory details about how I’ll dispose of the body.
“That’s my concern. Not yours.” I point to her bedroom. “Go get some stuff. You can shower at my place.”
When she stands and walks toward the bedroom, the blanket tightly wrapped around her, I focus on the dead body for the first time since arriving. He’s lying face down in his own blood, and by the amount pooled around him, it’s clear that Rowan stabbed the shit out of him. Good for her. The bastard deserved it. Spreading the tarp on the floor, I reach down and roll the man onto his back and—
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
His eyes are wide open staring up at me.
JV Luciano is looking at me.
JV fucking Luciano.
The son of Vinny Luciano is staring up at me. I know this asshole’s face well, even with his blood all over it and his lifeless eyes saying hello.
Fuck!
Rowan didn’t just kill some nobody scumbag. No. She murdered the son of mafia royalty.
The fucking mafia.
A family who will want revenge. A father who will demand to see justice for his son’s murder regardless of why it happened. I know Vinny Luciano well. He’s a client of The Whitney and has frequented The Rooftop often. Both he and his son have stayed on the thirteenth floor and blessed us with their stench and poison.
I know how Vinny works. I know how he thinks—and it’s deadly.
Fuck!
I take my phone out of my pocket again and dial Dex.
“We have a serious problem,” I say into the phone when he picks up. “This just got a lot fucking messier.”
Chapter Three
ROWAN
I gasp as I catch my first glimpse of my reflection in the bathroom mirror. A stranger stares back at me. Her face bruised, mascara running, and her blonde hair streaked red with blood.
This isn’t happening. Not to me. It’s just a bad dream.
The throbbing pain in my shoulder, hand, and head call me a liar.
I murdered a man tonight.
I am a murderer.
The words refuse to sink in. I reject them.
I defended myself tonight.
I am a survivor.
That’s better.
Z’s raised voice coming from out in my suite drag my attention away from my reflection. The terror from the fight for my life floods back in.
I try to push my rising panic down. Z told me I’m safe now. More than anything, I want to believe him. His almost nonchalant reaction to finding a dead body unnerves me, yet I prefer that to the new tension I detect in his voice.
Stumbling back to the entry of my suite’s bedroom, I move into position to try to pick up what’s being said.
“…Vincent is never gonna let this go.”
Z pauses to listen, pacing like a caged animal while holding his phone to his ear. His demeanor has done a one-eighty in the few minutes since he sent me to pack a bag. Gone is his cool veneer, replaced with a tension similar to my own reflection.
“You know damn well the Lucianos aren’t the type to forgive and forget,” Z says to whoever is at the other end of the call. “Fine. It can wait until you get here. I have plenty to keep me busy in the meantime,” he says before shoving his cell phone into his back pocket.
“Was that Katja?” I ask from the doorway, my voice shaky as I wrap the blanket around me tighter.
He doesn’t answer me, giving my racing mind time to worry about just how screwed my life has become.
The irony that I’ve finally managed to get Z in my room in the middle of the night is not lost on me. I’m pretty sure this falls into the ‘be careful what you ask for’ category in life, although even in my precarious state of mind, I acknowledge he’s even hotter up close than from afar.
He turns in my direction. I can feel the tension pouring off him as he barks, “How do you know JV Luciano?”
“Who?” I don’t like the accusatory tone of his question.
“The dead guy. Did you go out with him tonight?”
“What? No! I’ve never seen him before tonight.”
The instant relief that registers on Z’s face should appease me. It doesn’t.
“Tell me. How the hell did he get in your room then?” he presses.
The recrimination in his voice pisses me off. “I sure as hell didn’t invite him in if that’s what you’re insinuating!”
Something close to regret registers on his handsome face before he responds. “I’m not blaming you for any of this, Rowan. I just need to understand every detail that led to what happened. It’s the only way I can be sure to make this all disappear.”
Some of his bravado from before has slipped and I miss it. For a few insane minutes I believed him when he told me he could make this all just go away like it had been a bad dream.
