Before I can respond, the study door flies open. Vince emerges. Our eyes lock across the room, and the cold dread in my stomach crystallizes into certainty.
Something is very, very wrong.
I’ve been bleeding out for weeks, slow and steady, watching my life force whisk away into the hands of the FBI.
But tonight, the hemorrhage might finally be stopping.
Carver stands across from me in my study, hands in his pockets like he owns the place. Like he owns me.
The smug f**k has no idea what I’m capable of, even now, even backed into a corner with the ever-present threat of RICO charges dangling over my head.
I could snap his neck before he took his next breath. I could have his body dumped where no one would ever find it. I could make his children orphans with a single phone call.
For now
