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Nico sighs. “This is for your ears only, Rocco. I’m serious.”
“Fine!” I pound the granite countertop. “Tell me what you know about Remy Valkamir!”
“Years ago, when Viktor got started—"
“Remy?” A strangled sound comes from behind me, and I jump off the bar stool, my phone clattering on the counter next to me.
“Kat…” My voice trails off, throat dry. Why the fuck didn’t I take this call in the office? How stupid am I?
“Why are you talking about Remy Valkamir?” she shouts, her fists clenched at her sides. “What the hell are you talking about?” She stomps toward me, her cheeks bright red, lips stretched into a tight line. “Answer me!”
I hold up my hands almost on instinct, hoping she gets the message and stands down. Although judging by the murderous look in her eyes, I don’t think she’s paying much attention to my gestures. In fact, if we’re on the topic of hands, I’m pretty sure hers are close to being wrapped around my neck.
And if they find their way there, no way is she letting go.
“How long were you standing there?” I finally ask.
“Long enough to know you’re a motherfucking liar!” She lunges for me and shoves me backward. I stumble into the barstool and the wrought iron crashes against the floor tile. The force leaves a long, deep crack along the shiny ceramic surface.
I guess it’s a good thing she didn’t try to hurl the stool at my head instead.
I try to sideswipe the downed stool, but she keeps coming and my foot gets caught in one of the grooves. I twist around before I fall against the counter and slam my hip into the corner. “Ahh!” I yell, clutching my side.
“You fucking deserve that, you asshole!” She shoves me again, pounding on my chest with her fists. “What about Remy? Why do you even know his name?”
I wince, the sharp pain in my side slicing through me when I turn toward her. “Just stop, okay?”
“Don’t you tell me to stop! Don’t you ever fucking tell me what to do!” Tears are streaming down her face and her breaths are short and sharp. She looks damn close to hyperventilating, not that it does a thing to her killer instincts. Right now, I can’t be sure she wouldn’t slice my throat in a hot second if there was a knife in reach. She launches a fist at my jaw, and I swing around to avoid it.
Without a split second to spare.
I grab her wrist and pull her to me. “Kat, I don’t know anything about Remy. I swear.”
“Liar!” she bellows, grabbing a glass from the counter and hurling it against a wall. It shatters in a million pieces next to the floor crack. “Do you see that? It’s my fucking heart! You just broke my heart, you sonofabitch! I trusted you! I opened up to you! And all along, you knew! You knew everything! I heard it all, so don’t deny it!”
“Kat, please.” I cringe as she picks up a plate and throws it against another wall. “You have to believe me. I don’t know anything about Remy.”
“And what about the rest?” she hisses. “What about that, Rocco? Don’t lie to me again. I heard plenty. You know my mom and sister were killed. You knew it before I told you last night. And you pretended you had no idea.” She reaches for the knife block, her hand trembling over the handles. Suddenly, I’m staring at a shiny steel blade.
Fuck, this is how it ends? Really?
“How did you know?” she growls, holding the knife up to her cheek.
“Because Nico’s family sent me out to California a few years ago to find out who killed them.”
“Keep going.” She narrows her eyes at me and edges closer. “Don’t you even think about lying to me again.”
“Look. I didn’t know you. They sent me out there because they needed some kind of leverage for your father. They wanted to work with him, knew the history with your mom and sister, and figured if they could get him information he needed, they’d gain his trust. His businesses were suffering, and he needed their money. The Salesis needed his drug connections. It was a win-win.”
Kat steps closer. “My father told me it was a random robbery that got out of control.”
“It wasn’t.”
“I never believed him…” Her voice trails off and she rubs her temple with her free hand, the one that isn’t ready to lance me with a butcher knife.
“So you know who killed them?” Her voice no longer has the murderous edge to it. Now it just sounds sad. Lost. Alone.
“Yeah.” Somehow, I manage to force out the word even though there’s a lump the size of a grapefruit lodged in my throat.