His gaze snaps up to mine and the darkness lurking there almost has me stopping in my tracks. But I know better than to let Maximo see any fear. He’ll swallow it up and consume it before I even realize what he’s doing.
I approach his desk, stopping when I’m right across from him.
His elbow is propped up on his chair, his chin in his hand and I can’t help thinking that he looks so much like Giovanni. Besides the hair and the slimmer frame, they’re almost identical.
“She lied,” he says suddenly.
I blink, trying to figure out where his thoughts are. “Winter?” I ask.
“Of course,” he snaps. “She fucking lied. You saw the blood on her, right? How in the hell did it splatter on her the way it did unless she was close to the man for that head shot? Unless she was standing in front of him?”
It’s a great question, and definitely one that a professional killer with a trained eye would ask.
The first thing I’d noticed once we’d gone into the office was the blood splatters on Winter. I’d studied her, trying to make sense of how she looked and the bodies on the ground.
And when she’d given us her story, I’d had even more questions. Her body language had been perfect, too perfect as she retold the story, as if it was calculated and planned.
But it’s not my place to point those things out, unless asked.
“I agree,” I tell Maximo. “Her story seemed to line up too well.”
“And I would have believed it if I hadn’t seen what it looks like when blood splatters when you’re standing in front of someone who just got shot in the head,” he shakes his head. “So, the pressing question is, who shot them? And why is Winter covering for them?”
“Have you spoken to Lucia?” I ask.
I can’t imagine why Lucia would help Winter and then want to hide it, but she’s the first person who comes to mind. A perfect shot, a great liar, and she would have been able to access the club easily.
But she wouldn’t have told Winter to keep her presence a secret. Unless Maximo told her to, but obviously he’s clueless.
And Maximo doesn’t like not being in the know.
“She says that she doesn’t know anything about it,” he bites out. “And the fucking Ramos shot out the camera in the back hall after they entered, so there’s nothing to retrieve.”
He stands suddenly, slamming his hand against his desk before sliding everything off of it. “Shit,” he snaps and I know there has to be something more to all of this. And I know I won’t have to wait long to find out what.
He turns away from his desk, his chest heaving as he raises a hand. “And then that fucking scum Bianchi. He has the nerve to taunt me and pick at me, act as if I’m the one destroying my brother's favorite little play toy, but he’s the one who had his tongue so far up her cunt, I’m sure he could taste her future offspring.”
Well, shit.
“How do you know?” I ask him.
He shoots me an exasperated look. “Because these halls talk, Enzo.” Yeah, definitely pissed if he’s actually using my name. “And plus,, I listened in.”
Of course he did.
“Are you going to tell Giovanni?” I ask.
He shakes his head, his face pinching. “Of course not, I’m not like Vito. I’m not going to run snitching to my brother every time he does something. I’m going to be much more methodical than that. I’m going to bide my time and when it’s the best moment, that’s when I’ll inform my brother that his little henchman hasn’t been as good as he thinks.” He lets out a humorless laugh.
“So, what are you going to do in the meantime?” I ask hesitantly.
His gaze snaps up to mine. “In the meantime, I’m going to fuck you hard enough that I can forget the bullshit going on around me.” His eyes narrow and he points. “On the desk, Enzo.”
I don’t hesitate, making my way over to his desk and set my ass on it while keeping my gaze on him.
He moves closer, wrapping his hand around my tie and pulling me forward until our lips clash. Warmth washes over me.
He doesn't even give me a chance to lean into the kiss before he’s pulling my tie tight enough that I can’t breathe. I gasp into his mouth as his tongue plunges into mine, attacking.