It's ten PM when I exit my mother's house, and I'm so drained from peeling myself open like a banana to Steve that I don't notice the black SUV idling down the street until Kay stands before me. I freeze at the bottom of the steps, my palm gripping the railing.

What the fuck is this man doing at my mom's house?

Steve doesn't notice. He's already behind the wheel to drive me home, and I hope Kay doesn't see him. The last thing I need is for this giant monster to look into who he is.

"What are you doing here?"

"The Sisters need a word," he says. "I've come to fetch you."

"No. I asked what the fuck you are doing here. At my mom's house."

"I'm not here to answer questions." He flashes the gun hidden under his coat on his hip holster. "Now march to the SUV."

"Fuck you. I'm not going anywhere with you."

Kay's lip curls with a snarl as he slaps his hand to the back of my neck and shoves me toward the car. The front door of my mom's house flies open, and she races out, a hot pink handgun raised.

"Get away from my son!" She pulls back the hammer with a click, and my stomach plummets.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck!

"Tell her to stand down," Kay hisses.

"I'm warning you," my mom says. "I'm not afraid to go to prison. I will shoot you."

Steve is unbuckling his seat belt, but I do a quick head shake-warning him to stay put. However, he doesn't listen, and things are about to go very sideways.

"Let go of Miguel, and put your hands up," Steve says, his arms propped on the hood of the car, his gun aimed.

Bloody hell. It's like the Wild West out here.

But this doesn't dissuade Kay. Instead, he flashes Steve the gun on his hip. "This is none of your business, old man."

"You better think twice before drawing your weapon," Steve says. "I'm a retired detective. You know what happens when you injure or kill someone in law enforcement?"

"A retired detective? Interesting," Kay grunts, still firmly gripping the back of my neck. He squeezes and whispers, "Tell your precious mommy to go inside, or I will put a hole in her pretty skull and the old man's. You know I will."

Fuck. I hate it here.

"Ma. This isn't a Clint Eastwood movie. Go inside, please."

She shakes her head. "Not until he takes his hands off you."

"Ma!" I close my eyes and plead. "Of all the times to be stubborn, now is not it. Please, do as I say, and go inside."

Kay squeezes the back of my neck again. "Yes, do as your son says."

"Ma. Please..."

Her gaze shifts to Steve, her lips forming a worried line, but then she nods. "Ok." Then she glares at Kay. "I've seen your face. Don't think for one second I won't come after you if you harm my son. I'm old and have nothing to lose."

Kay smirks and tips his head at her before releasing my neck with a shove. He takes a long, hard look at Steve, who still has his gun aimed and arms propped on the car's hood, then nudges me toward the SUV. My feet are reluctant as if they know I don't want to leave the safety of my mom's home. So, Kay grips my upper arm and yanks me along. With each step, I pray my mom doesn't try to have one last word. Lucas steps out of the SUV and holds the door open for me—this asshole.

What is he doing here?

"Don't worry, Miguel," Lucas says. "I'm here to ensure Kay delivers you in one piece."

"As if I can trust you," I huff.

"If it makes you feel better, Augusta requested I come, specifically, to make sure no harm comes to you."

"Well, it doesn't make me feel better."

"Get in!" Kay presses the barrel of his gun against my back, which proves I have a right not to trust either of these shit stains.

The door slams shut behind me when I climb into the SUV, and I flinch. My heart is racing. This could be the ride that drives me to my death. As we pull away from the curb, Steve and my mom stand in the middle of the street. Steve has his phone out like he's taking a photo—probably of the license plate.

Take care of my mom, old man. This might be my last night on earth.

∆∆∆

Entering the Abramovitz mansion always feels like I need a passport, but tonight, it's like any other home in the quiet of the night. Dim light from wall scones reflects off the glossy hardwood floor as Kay escorts me through the foyer, his hand gripping my upper arm. I glance over my shoulder at Lucas, who stayed behind to chat with one of the guards like old friends catching up.

It's still so strange that my coworker has been part of this underground world this whole time, and I had no idea.

The fireplace in the white sitting room flickers as orange licks of flames dance across wood logs. It fills the room with warmth as the scent of freshly baked cookies kisses my nose. A silver tray of chocolate chip rests on the coffee table, along with a glass of milk.

For me?

Except it's not.

Augusta takes a bite of a cookie, her attention immersed in whatever she's doing on a handheld tablet. She's dressed in a silky robe cinched tight with fluffy slippers and no makeup. I've never seen her look so normal before. Jocelyn, on the other hand, holds a martini and is wearing a lace dress with a plunging neckline that goes all the way down to her navel and a slit that goes all the way up to her coochie. Nothing is left to the imagination, and now I know she wears this sexy shit for Kay.

I can't unsee him railing her against the kitchen counter while Richie's sack of shit napped in the basement of their secret fuck-house.

However, as relaxed as Jocelyn's body appears, splayed across the couch with her strappy heels, her expression is tense. She observes Augusta, but Augusta is too busy tapping and swiping across a tablet to notice.

"Was it necessary to drag me here so late at night and from my mother's home?"

"You've upheld your end of our deal, Miguel." Augusta finally looks up and extends the tablet to me. "Richie is dead. This releases you from the contract you signed."

"What about Angie?"

"This releases her too."

"And you'll leave my mom and her sister alone?"

"Yes." Augusta narrows her eyes in irritation. "I don't break contracts. You fulfilled your end of the deal, and I keep my word."

Our fingers graze briefly as I grasp the tablet to take it from her. I study the screen. It's legal mumbo jumbo stating the end of our contract. "I just sign, and we're done?"

"Yes."

"Good." Using my finger, I scribble out my signature and hit accept, then hand the tablet back to her. "Am I free to leave now?"

"No. I'd like you to join me for tea."

"I don't drink tea."

But she ignores me and addresses Jocelyn. "We're done. You can go off to the club now."

"Wait." Jocelyn sits upright, her martini nearly sloshing out of the glass. "Are you having a separate meeting without me?"

"No. We are having tea."

"I don't drink tea," I repeat, and Augusta ignores me again, only this time she holds up her finger like she's hushing a child.

"It's just tea, Jocelyn," she says. "Go have fun."

"But, I can stay."

"Jocelyn!" she barks. "You're not missing out on anything. I just want to ask Miguel how Mindy Arora is doing. Now go have fun on the town."

"Fine," she rises from the sofa with a huff.

"Wait," Kay says. "Augusta, when I picked up Miguel, there was a retired cop there."

"And?" She looks at him.

"And you might not be safe alone with Miguel, ma'am."

Augusta laughs, "This place has security at all hours, and Bernard is here. I'll be fine."

Kay attempts a neutral expression, even though his jaw is tense. "I will look into the retired cop for you."

Augusta chuckles, "How long have you worked for us?"

"Fifteen years, ma'am."

"Then you should know I have eyes and ears everywhere. I don't need you to look into anything. But what I do need is for you to look after Jocelyn tonight at Penthouse. With Richie gone, tensions are high. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now go have fun," she says to her sister.

Beats of silence pass as the sisters stare at each other. Augusta looks unphased, but the gears are turning in Jocelyn's head as she grips her martini. She wants to say something, but Kay takes her by the elbow, breaking the quiet standoff, and the two of them leave the sitting room with a cloud of agitation following them. Augusta stands, and a servant arrives to grab the tray of cookies, along with her glass of milk.

"Where to, ma'am?"

"I'm done. Save them for tomorrow. I might want some with my morning coffee. You can also retire for the night. I won't be needing anything else."

"Yes, ma'am. Have a good night." The servant bows her head and leaves.

"Let's take a walk in the garden, shall we?" Augusta gestures in its direction.

"I'd rather go home."

"Relax. This isn't a booty call. Now let's walk." A massive blob moves in my peripheral vision, so I glance back, and it's Bernard. Augusta says over her shoulder, "Stay here. We'll be fine."

"But ma'am—"

"Bernard. I'll be fine."

"Then I shall keep watch from here." He pauses at the steps spilling out into the garden.

The night is alive with chirps of crickets and the rustle of leaves from the breeze. Augusta pulls her robe tighter. In the past, I would have offered her my jacket, but after she used me like a tampon, she can freeze her bleached asshole off.

"So what do you want," I ask.

We stroll through a path bordered by rose bushes that curl around a sculpture of hummingbirds with water coming out of their mouths. The trickle dances with the hum of insects, and it almost feels peaceful. Almost. I still don't know what this walk is about. A bench sits in front of the fountain, and Augusta eases down.

"I don't know who I can trust." She lights a cigarette.

"Ok..." I say.

"I've been thinking about what you said about my sister and Kay. If they're planning to harm me, then it will likely be after the gala."

"Why after?"

"This party isn't just some get-together. It's too important. Everyone worth knowing from my world gets to mingle with the straight-laced folks. You know, the so-called good people. Like politicians."

I smirk, "Politicians are good people?"

"It depends on who you ask. In my opinion, I like knowing Rohan Reddy is on my side, and the annual party allows us to nurture bonds with our allies." She takes a drag from her cigarette, the cherry end glowing like a firefly in the darkness of the garden.

"Did you know Rohan's PR guy, or whatever the fuck he does, is Angie's ex-husband?"

"I did."

"Yet you gave us permission to kill him?"

Augusta blows out smoke with a laugh, "I gave permission to kill Richie. I was never going to let you kill anyone else. That's why I had Kay watching you like a hawk."

"Why does this feel too easy?"

"What do you mean?"

"Releasing me from the contract. I mean, yeah, I completed the deal, but it was messy as fuck. Mindy almost died."

"You're right. It was messy, and had it been anyone else, I would've had Kay put you down. But I can no longer trust Kay."

"And you trust me?"

"Oddly, I do." She flicks ash from her cigarette. "You're a wreck and leave the landscape in ashes everywhere you go, but at least I know you'd never try to kill me."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Even though you know about the retired Detective dating my mom?"

"Actually, I didn't. That one slipped beneath my radar, but I couldn't look like a fool in front of my sister or Kay. So tell me, what's the story with the old detective?" She takes another long drag, her mouth puckering around the cancer stick as she locks eyes with me.

"He helped me when I was a teen after I killed my stepfather because he was abusing my mom."

"And how long has he been dating your mom?"

"Apparently, they started dating years ago, and it's been a torrid affair ever since."

"I see. You know I'll need to look into this, right? Maybe it's true love, or maybe he's not retired and is sniffing around. Once a cop, always a cop."

"Do what you gotta do." I shrug. "Can I go now?"

"No." She fishes into her robe and pulls out an envelope. "You need to look at this."

Taking the white envelope from her, I open it, glance at her, then slide out photographs. At first, it doesn't click as I shuffle through them. Why would Augusta want to show me photos of Evan? Then I see images of Detective Shapiro and her partner, Detective Archibald. Some snapshots look like clandestine meetups, but others are taken from inside the police precinct. The deck of photos slips from my hands, and I look up at Augusta.

"Your friend is an informant. Or what people on the street like to call a snitch."

"How? When?"

"I have no clue. But Niko began noticing his suspicious activity a few weeks ago."

"What do you mean? Have your men been spying on my friends!"

She laughs, "I have someone watching your entire divorcee support group. You never know who you can trust."

"So then you know about Barry?"

"Who?"

"Barry. Chloe's ex-husband."

"I'm not following. What should I know about him?"

I inhale a sharp breath, running a hand over my head. She doesn't know Chloe killed him or that Jackson and I got rid of the body.

"Miguel!" she scolds. "What do I need to know? I can't help you if you don't tell me."

"Help me?" I scoff. "You blackmailed me with sex, money, and photographs similar to these." I motion to the ones of Evan on the ground. "You talk about trust, but I'm the one who can't trust you."

"Am I not building trust right now? Your friend is a snitch. Lord knows what he's telling these detectives about you. Just give me the word, and I'll send someone to shut him up."

"No."

"No?" Her brows fly to her hairline. "I got you out of jail once, but I cannot save you from whatever shit show this will bring down on you. I meant what I said when you signed that contract. If anything traces back to my family, I will wash my hands of you. That means you'll be on your own, and if you go to prison, I will not order my inside men to protect you."

"I guess I deserve whatever is coming."

"You're a fool, Miguel." She shakes her head, reaches out, and wraps her fingers around my pinky finger. It's a tender gesture. "I can protect you. I can place you under my wing. You'll be invincible..."

I pull my hand away and stuff it into my jacket pocket. "At what cost? I'm not going to be your little fuck-boy."

"I'm not asking you to be. As I said, I don't know who I can trust right now, but I can trust you. I know you won't feed me bullshit."

"So?"

"So I'd like you to come work for me. Be my eyes and ears."

"I'm not a watchdog. That's why you pay Bernard to have your back."

"I thought you might say something like that." She reaches into her robe again. "Take this. Consider it a sign-on bonus. Your first assignment will be to attend the annual party."

Assignment? What does this woman have up her sleeve? I stare at the number scrawled across the check, coaxing me to accept the money, but I don't take it from her. Instead, I push her hand away. "You can't buy me again."

"Then I'll double it." She reaches into her robe again. "I had a feeling you'd be stubborn about this."

"I said—"

But then I realize Augusta is offering me a way inside the party. I would've had to sneak in to ensure Angie is safe when she attends with Franky.

Augusta waves the check at me, waiting for my decision. "What will it be, Miguel?"

Yes, what will it be...