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“That was close.” I breathe into his neck, inhaling his salt and jasmine scent as I let my heart rate return to normal.
“Mmmm. Watch your step.” Noah sets me on my feet again and extends a hand to help Gabriel. “This place is a biohazard.”
Massacre is the word I’d use.
My pulse races as I take in the scene. Brentwood lies in a tub of crimson bathwater I’m assuming isn’t the result of a Lush bath bomb. Blood splatters the walls and ceiling – great long slashes of the stuff, the marks of a killer who relished his task. Brentwood’s stomach is torn open, a mess of gore. But his face is what turns my stomach – his eyes bug out in an expression of pure terror. His tongue lolls to the side of his mouth, sticking out through swollen lips. His cheeks are puffed out, and as I step closer, I see why.
Someone has stuffed pills into his mouth and up his nose – so many they spill out on his tongue. A few bob about on the surface of the water. Several of the capsules have broken open or dissolved, leaving their contents speckling his clothing.
Someone shut Brentwood up good.
Claudia
“What the fuck?” Brentwood is supposed to be Dio’s most infamous assassin. How does someone manage to catch him off-guard and do this?
“My thoughts exactly.” Antony points to the spatter on the wall behind his head. “See how this blood has dried? I think this happened a few hours ago, maybe even last night. The floor’s still wet because of the amount of water splashed everywhere.”
“There’s no way he just… slipped and accidentally stabbed himself?” Gabe shakes his head at Noah’s proffered hand. He sits on the end of Brentwood’s bed, his skin pale and sickly.
“Sure, Pretty Boy. People slip in the bathtub and eviscerate themselves while choking on a pile of pills all the time.” Antony uses the edge of his shirt to pick up an empty bottle bobbing in the water. “Apparently, our friend Brentwood here has been given a crazy overdose of ergogenic aids.”
“What’s that?”
Antony turns the label around to face me. “Performance enhancers for athletes. And will you look at that… these are a Malloy Supplements special – although according to this warning label, they’re not yet approved for the market.”
Noah stiffens. Antony glares at him as he shoves the pills into his pocket. “You have something to say, Dark Horse?”
I snort. I can’t help it. Antony’s nicknames for the guys are so on-the-nose.
“It’s just… my brother was killed because he took unapproved supplements made-to-order by Mackenzie’s father. I thought my family had it out for the Malloys because Dad blames them for my brother’s death and my mother’s suicide. But Claudia and I found some papers in Howard’s office that show my father was working with Malloy. Maybe he hired Brentwood because he knew Mackenzie was back in her house—” he says this with a sly look in my direction “—and he wants to make sure those papers never see the light of day.”
“And according to you, Brentwood refused to go after Mackenzie because of whatever he saw that night,” Antony says. “Now he’s dead from a drug overdose.”
That’s too big a coincidence. I turn to Noah. “You think your father did this?”
“I don’t think he personally shoved these pills down Brentwood’s throat.” Noah glances up at the blood fanning across the ceiling. He swallows hard. “But yes, I believe this is connected.”
“Who else would a senator hire if they wanted someone to disappear?” Antony drags out his phone and starts tapping. “More importantly, who would be able to get the drop on Brentwood?”
I wish Eli was here.
The thought slams into me so hard that I jerk. It’s a flush of need that starts in my stomach and pools warmth through my body. This isn’t desire. It’s something deeper. It’s longing. I used to feel this tugging in my gut when I watched films about families of teens living their normal lives. Now I feel it for the comfort and steadiness that only Eli Hart can give.
Maybe Eli isn’t here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t borrow a little of his steady, careful nature. Put on my own Sherlock Holmes orgasm face.
I turn back to the bathtub, trying to see the bathroom through Eli’s eyes.
“It has to be someone he trusted, because he let them into the house.” I think of the coffee cups we saw downstairs. “Probably they were having coffee together and that person put something into Brentwood’s drink, then maneuvered him into the bath once he was out cold.”
“They’d have to be incredibly strong to get him up here and over that tripwire,” Antony says. “I could probably do it if I had to, but it would suck. He’s not a small guy. I don’t think this was hired out – you’d have to be crazy to incur the wrath of Dio, but… hold on. What’s that?”
Antony reaches across the corpse and snaps an object from around Brentwood’s neck. He holds it up for us all to see.
It’s a gift tag tied on a pink ribbon. It had been wrapped around Brentwood’s neck like he was a present under the Christmas tree. It reminds me of a ribbon I used to wear in my hair when I was a little girl – Daddy’s favorite color on me. Antony rubs a blood-stained finger on the edge of the tag, reading the words aloud. “A gift for you, baby girl – to show how much I care. Brutus.”
Baby girl.
My stomach twists. I sink to my knees as the bile rises in my throat.
