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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Erika stares at her client for several long seconds. Then she snorts and rubs her eyes. “Of course. If there’s a way to fuck things up even more, you’ll find it.”

“Not sure things can get any more fucked up than this,” Nash says grimly.

“And whose fault is that?”

Rav has no idea what’s going on. Are they working together? If so, why is Nash eying her down the barrel of a 9mm?

“So,” she says, rising from her crouch. “You followed me here, is that it? In the Aston Martin?”

“Fake photos.” Nash dares a glance at Rav. “As soon as I heard you talking about fake photos and setting Miller up, I knew. It’s straight out of her playbook. She used to be counterintelligence, did you know that?” He tilts his chin at Erika. “I made Eloise tell me the truth. About how you tricked her into giving you Vanderford’s elevator code, telling her it was for me.”

“At least I didn’t seduce it out of her,” Erika says sourly.

“I should have known it was you. Execution-style killing. Clean murder scene. Of course it was you.” Nash starts toward Jack.

“Leave him,” she snaps.

“Or what? Are you going to shoot me?” He crouches to untie Jack.

Jack spits out the gag and draws a ragged breath. “What the fuck , Erika?”

She ignores him. “So what now, Ryan, huh? If I go down, you go down.”

“I never asked you to do any of this.”

“No? You’ve gotta help me, Erika. It was an accident. Please, Erika…”

A muscle in Ryan’s jaw twitches. “That’s in the past.”

“It was in the past, until you got it into that hot head of yours to take out Dick Vanderford.”

“Ryan.” Jack flicks a wary glance at his bandmate. “What is she talking about?”

A grim look settles over Nash. “Yes, I asked for your help back then. But that was different. It was an accident. I never meant for him to get hurt.”

Oh , Rav thinks, his glance cutting instinctively to Jack. Oh no…

The wretched look on Nash’s face seals it. Rav knows what’s coming, and his heart aches for Jack.

“It was an accident.”

“Shut up,” Erika snaps. “For once in your life!”

Nash ignores her. He’s looking at Jack now, his eyes pleading. “I was drunk. Pissed off. He was being such an arse that night. You know how he could get.”

“No,” Jack whispers, the blood draining from his face.

“He wanted me out of the band!”

Jack moans softly and folds over himself, as if he’s been kicked in the gut.

“He was going to make you choose. Him or me. We both knew how that would go.” Tears brim in Nash’s eyes. “I tried to corner him at the party, but he wouldn’t talk to me. He ripped out of there on his bike. I got in my car and followed him.”

Jack curls into a ball, hands clamped over his ears, but Nash keeps talking. Erika looks on in disgust, and even though Rav’s heart is breaking right along with Jack’s, he takes advantage of her distraction to keep working at the strap. He’s hooked part of it over the knob. If he can just get some leverage…

“He managed to lose me. I thought he’d decided to head back to the city. I just kept driving. I was out of it, crying and talking to myself. And I guess instinct kicked in, ’cause I started driving on the left, like I would back home. Next thing I know he’s coming the other way on that tight corner, and—”

“And I get a phone call,” Erika interrupts coldly, “from my fuckup client, begging for my help. Because he’s already left the scene of the accident, and Tommy Esposito is lying dead at the bottom of a ravine, and Ryan here knows that best-case scenario, he’s looking at vehicular manslaughter. But mostly, he just can’t face Jack.”

The scorn in her voice is too much for Rav. “You could have said no , Erika. You didn’t have to help him cover it up. Stage the accident or pay off witnesses or whatever it is you did.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. I felt sorry for him, and Tommy was past help, and I’m in the business of solving problems. That’s on me, and I’ve been paying for it ever since.”

Poor you. Rav keeps working at the strap.

“She did a shit job of it anyway,” Nash says with a bitter smile. “The conspiracy theories started popping up straightaway. Miller was the worst. Posting all over the internet about the phantom car chasing Tommy on his motorcycle.”

“He was right,” Jack murmurs dazedly. “This whole time.”

“Even a stopped watch is right twice a day,” Erika says. “He wasn’t a problem, not after I was done with him. Guys like Miller are easy to discredit. Hack his account, post a couple of threats, maybe a paranoid rant or two, and voilà. Certified crackpot.”

“Yeah, you’re so clever,” Nash says. “Bit harder with a detective, though, innit? I should’ve seen your fingerprints all over that deepfake video of Jack. I suppose you got his social passwords from Eloise, too? Only that was a huge flop, wasn’t it? Because you’re not as smart as you think you are. Vanderford found out about Tommy, too, did you know that? He was trying to blackmail me. Told me if I didn’t get Jack to drop the lawsuit—”

“Of course I knew, you dumb shit! He was trying to blackmail me, too! I was dealing with it. Quietly .”

That’s when the last piece slots into place. Did you hear about the private investigator? They found him in a shallow grave upstate… Vanderford did hire Chris Novak, and he dug up the truth about Tommy Esposito.

Poor bastard. He never would have seen it coming.

“It was under control,” Erika goes on. “Then I asked Eloise for Vanderford’s elevator code, and she told me she’d already given it to you. Wasn’t hard to guess what for. Did you seriously think you could pull something like that off? All you were gonna do was get yourself arrested, and then what? You’d spill your guts, like you’re doing now. I wasn’t about to let you take us both down, so I did it right.”

“ This is doing it right?” Nash shakes his head. “No, enough. This has gone way too far. We’re out of here. Come on, Jack.”

Erika racks the slide of her Glock. “ Sit. Down. ”

Nash raises his own gun and moves toward Rav.

“Uh-uh,” Erika warns. “You untie that cop, I’ll shoot him in the head.”

“No, you won’t. I’ve got a gun too, remember?”

“Yeah, I see that. Digging around in my luggage, were we? Do you even know how to…” She trails off, eyes narrowed, and a moment later, Rav hears it too: police sirens, and they’re definitely coming this way. He’s so surprised he fumbles the strap he’s just worked free from his wrists; it hits the floor with a loud slap .

Erika looks at it, and then she looks up at Rav.

It all goes down in a heartbeat.

She raises her gun. Nash tries to shoot first, but the safety is on; Erika whirls on him and fires—missing by a hair as Jack shoves him out of the way. Now her weapon is pointed at Jack, and Rav does the only thing he can.

He lunges.

Erika pivots; the gun goes off. Pain blazes across Rav’s shoulder, but before she can get a second shot off, he tackles her. He drives a fist into her face, then makes a grab for the Glock, bashing her hand against the floor over and over. But he’s hurting from being pistol-whipped earlier, and she takes full advantage, throwing an elbow into his temple. White light flashes through his vision. He’s so dizzy he tumbles off her, and she scrambles to her feet.

Rav hears a gun click—but not Erika’s.

“Drop it.” Jack has the 9mm, and he holds it as convincingly as any cop.

Erika wipes blood from her mouth. “Come on, Jack. Who are you kidding?”

“You don’t know me, Erika.” His face is pale but composed, his voice steady. “You think because I get panic attacks that I’m weak, or fragile, but you’re wrong. Now drop it.”

The moment stretches, thin as a razor blade.

Erika’s arm jerks up—and Jack fires, putting a round in her chest. He puts another in her thigh, and she goes down with a cry. Rav scrambles over and kicks her gun away, but she’s in no condition to reach for it anyway, gasping and writhing on the floor. Jack stands frozen, lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. Gingerly, Rav lifts the gun from his boyfriend’s shaking hands. “You’re all right, love,” he murmurs. “You did it.”

The gendarmes burst through the door a second later, guns raised and shouting, and Rav has never been so grateful that he speaks fluent French. There’s a few moments of confusion, and then he’s got his arms around Jack, and Erika is being put in restraints, and Rav is vaguely aware of Ryan Nash slumped on the floor and a trio of terrified auto mechanics being escorted out of the building, but it’s all happening on the other side of some invisible, watery barrier. In here, there’s only Rav and Jack, clinging to each other.

He’s not sure how much time passes, but when the world starts to sink in again, he sees Mo threading his way through the tangle of law enforcement. “You okay, boss?” the bodyguard asks, not quite able to meet his client’s eye.

Jack nods vaguely, still lost in a haze of shock.

“How ’bout you?” Mo’s glance falls to Rav’s bloodied shoulder. “I’ll get some EMTs over here. They’re looking after Erika, but they can let her bleed out as far as I’m concerned.”

He doesn’t mean it. He’s just heartsick, like the rest of them. Mo and Erika go way back. Today’s revelations will be as painful for him as they are for Jack.

“How are you here?” Rav asks him. “Did Ryan call you?”

“That can wait. Take a load off, both of you.”

They do as they’re told, sinking to the floor and huddling together while the chaos carries on around them. Rav’s ears are still ringing from the gunshots, and his mouth tastes like blood and adrenaline. Questions are buzzing in his head like flies. But right now, the only thing that matters is the person nestled against him. Rav rests his head against Jack’s and closes his eyes, and everything else can wait.

“Spyware. You installed spyware on my smartwatch?”

Aisha is unapologetic. “If I hadn’t, you’d probably be dead.”

He can’t deny it, but still. How long has she been keeping tabs on him? “That day you asked to look at my watch—is that why you wanted to see it?”

“It wasn’t the only reason. But look, you must realize that having you around is a risk for me. Not everything I do is strictly legal, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to keep an eye on you in case you got any funny ideas about burning me.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Aisha.”

“I didn’t think you would, but if these past couple of days have proved anything, it’s that nobody really knows anybody.”

He can’t argue with that, either.

He glances down at his watch. “So, when I hit the panic button…”

“An alarm came through on my phone. I cued up the camera and mic, and when I realized what was going on, I called the police in Cannes and passed on the GPS coordinates.”

“Does that mean you recorded the conversation in the garage?”

“Every word. Figured you might need the evidence later, but man.” The voice on the phone grows subdued. “It was tough to listen to. Poor Jack.”

Rav’s glance strays to the far side of the hotel suite, where Jack and what’s left of the New Knickerbockers are crashed out on the sofa, just… dealing. Jack’s got his arm around Sarah. Claudia is knitting quietly, sniffling every now and then as she swipes a tear from her cheek. They’ve got some tough decisions ahead, but for now, they’re just here for each other.

“What about you?” Aisha asks. “How are you holding up?”

He rolls his stitched-up shoulder, but he knows that’s not what she means. “Okay. My friend Mags is coming down from London tomorrow. It’ll be nice to see a friendly face. As much as I’d like to go home, Jack needs me right now.”

“The press must be all over him.”

“Yeah.” Rav pushes the curtain aside and looks down at the gaggle of reporters on the street below. It gets bigger every day as journalists fly into Paris to cover the story—and they don’t even know the half of it yet. Ryan Nash is working with his lawyers, preparing to come forward about his role in the death of Tommy Esposito. That’s when the shit will really hit the fan. For now, the Nicks’ publicist is working overtime to keep the lurid details out of the headlines. All the public knows is that Jack Vale was involved in a police incident near Cannes, and someone affiliated with the Nicks is in custody for the murder of Richard Vanderford. Rav’s name has been kept out of it, much to his relief.

“Well, you got your proverbial man, at least,” Aisha says. “That’s gotta be some consolation.”

“Does it? She was right under my nose the entire time.”

“Cut yourself some slack, Rav. The woman is a professional counterintelligence agent.” Wryly, she adds, “And can I just say, it’s very on-brand that you caught her because you noticed her outfit .”

He laughs ruefully. “Her jewelry, to be precise. Let’s hope that little detail doesn’t get out. My colleagues would never let me live it down.” He pauses, his smile fading. “I never would have caught her without your help. You’re the only one who was willing to keep pulling the thread with me. I owe you one, Aisha.”

“You owe me a lot more than one, Detective. And I fully intend to cash that check one day.”

Rav doesn’t doubt it for a second.