Page 108 of Madness & Mercy

He spits blood at my feet. “You’re both fucked. Braga willkillyou.”

I lean in close, smiling cold.

“He can try.”

Then I turn to Julian, keeping my voice low.

“Gear up. We’ve got a body to hunt.”

We leave the basement in silence. The hostage’s ragged breathing fades behind us, replaced by the sound of boots against concrete. Julian doesn’t say a word, but his shoulders are squared, his eyes focused and deadly.

I like him like this.

We reach the front hall where Luca’s already waiting by the Maserati, helmet in hand. Enzo’s standing at the hood of the Benz, a cigarette burning low between two fingers. He clocks us with a nod, but I wave him off. Not yet.

Julian heads for the stairs, peeling off the jacket he’d worn in the basement. I follow.

“Good work in there,” I say.

He pauses halfway up the steps, giving me a look over his shoulder. “Wasn’t for you. It was for Braga.”

“Still.” I climb the last few steps until we’re level. “You knew exactly how to push him. Where to hit. How to bait the fear.”

He stays quiet, walking into my bedroom, heading toward the closet like it’s second nature now.

I lean against the doorframe, watching him pull on one of my black dress shirts and roll the sleeves to his elbows.

“You ever work as a cop?” I ask casually.

He goes still.

“No,”he says quickly. “What are you getting at?”

I shrug, grabbing my jacket off the chair and sliding it on. “Nothing. Just that your interrogation style was a little advanced for a private investigator.”

He turns around, a scowl twisting his face.

“I’m not a fucking cop. Or a detective. So just drop it, alright?”

I raise both hands, placating.

“Alright. Touchy.”

His glare lingers for a moment longer than necessary. Then he snatches a gun holster from the closet shelf and clips it around his waist like he’s done it a thousand times.

Because hehas.

Whatever the hell Julian Cross is, he’s not just some P.I And he’sdefinitelynot someone Braga expected to turn against him.

Fine by me.

“Let’s go,” I mutter, grabbing the spare glock from the bedside drawer and tucking it into my coat. “The bastard’s expecting a quiet afternoon. Let’s ruin it.”

We move through the house fast, Enzo trailing behind, Luca already on his bike, revving the engine.

Julian’s eyes catch on the Maserati again.

I grin. “Still want that test drive?”