Unseen

Chapter 11

Petropoulos was found dead in his swimming pool with a knife in his back.

Ervin Lukacs didn't bother meeting with Yvette before he started making business deals behind her back, angling for the now-vacant position. Maybe he didn't even see it as acting behind her back. Maybe he didn't occur to him that she might want to or need to know about the future of her father's syndicate. Her syndicate.

Yvette didn't know, nor did she try to find out. The difference had ceased to matter to her.

Lukacs was found dead in his living room, shot three times as he was watching TV.

Her father's people—her people—would learn not to take what was hers. They would learn to show her the respect her father had naturally commanded. Whether it took one more body or ten, they would learn.

"They will learn," she muttered to herself in her father's office late one night, as she tried to focus her exhausted eyes on the account books. She tried to tell herself she believed it.

But how many bodies would it take? How many, before they finally understood that she was a force to be reckoned with?

And if they never did, what then?

A soft knock came at the door. She tensed and reached for the knife hidden in her top drawer, even though there was only one person it could be. After the past couple of weeks, she couldn't be certain she wouldn't wake up one day to find Reynold standing over her with a dagger, ready to plunge it into her back.

The door creaked softly open. Reynold stood on the other side, dark circles under his eyes. What was he still doing here?

But she knew the answer. She knew he didn't like to go home until he knew she was asleep in bed. Half the time, he didn't go home at all, these days. Partly out of loneliness, but partly, she suspected, because he still felt like he had to protect her. No matter how much she told him otherwise.

At the sight of his kind eyes, she slid the knife back into its hiding place with a stab of guilt. At the sight of the protectiveness in those eyes, she swallowed down a hot rush of resentment.

His nose wrinkled as he stepped into the room. He smoothed his expression out again quickly enough, but she had seen it. She took a quick sniff and made a face. The smell was her. How long had it been since she had showered?

"You should go home," she said to Reynold. Of course he didn't listen, instead slipping into the chair across from her.

She supposed at this point she probably should stop being surprised when people didn't listen to her.

"And you should get some sleep," he said, his voice as kind as his eyes. "But you won't do it just because I said so, will you? Or even because you know it's a sensible idea."

"Point taken." She managed a faint smile before turning back to the account books. There were numbers here that didn't add up. Numbers from just the past few days.

Who was going behind her back now? Who would Violet need to visit next?

Reynold cleared his throat softly. When she looked up at him, he didn't return her smile. "I'm hoping you'll take my advice on a different matter," he said. "This one is more important than your insistence on burning the candle at both ends."

She could have told him he had his metaphor all wrong. It wasn't a candle, it was a warning flare, and she had to burn long enough and strong enough for the right people to see it. Right now, that meant tracking down this latest betrayal. Then Violet would send another message. Maybe this time, her people would heed the message.