“You don’t have to get over me. I’m yours.”

She kisses my chest. “And I’m yours. Now, let’s get this Falco crap handled so you can make love to me until I pass out.” She climbs off me and darts away before I can snatch her back.

I groan as she sprints into the bathroom and turns on the shower.

As much as I don’t want to admit it, she’s right. The plan is solid. I just have to keep my cool until it’s time for me to take Falco down. But when it comes to Carina, I’ve never been able to think clearly. I can only hope this time will prove to be the exception.

* * *

“Fancy,” Butcher grunts, his lip curling in disdain as we enter through the kitchen of La Rue, an upscale restaurant on the swank edge of downtown.

A few of the servers give us curious looks, then they go back to hurrying from the kitchen with full plates. In a place this busy, no one’s going to ask any questions of two well-dressed men like us. We could be wealthy patrons, guests of the chef, or even some sort of Michelin star committee members.

“This way.” I already have the restaurant’s layout burned into my brain, and I make a path through the kitchen, into a back hallway, and then into a small antechamber next to a private dining room—the Falco dining room, to be precise.

“Hey.” Butcher’s meaty paw comes down on my shoulder. “Go easy.”

“I am,” I grate out.

He grunts, his only response.

We creep closer to the dining room. Its heavy wooden doors are shut, but I can hear voices inside. Carina is talking, and she sounds almost bored. For some reason, that soothes me.

It goes quiet for a moment, and I move a step closer. Then I hear Falco. His voice is louder, and it’s angry.

I take another step.

“—tell your brother what you did. Sit down! You aren’t going anywhere until you agree to my proposal. We will be married.”

Carina laughs. “You really think I’d marry you? I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire. You’re nothing but a lowlife pimp. Now get out of my way. I’m leaving.”

“I said sit down, you stupid bitch!”

Carina yelps.

That’s all it takes. I shove the doors open, my knife already in hand.

“What the—“ Falco has his hand around Carina’s arm, gripping her hard, then he reaches into his suit coat.

Right as he does, she swings, the edge of her hand chopping him in the windpipe.

He releases her and gasps.

I throw my knife, the blade hitting him between the eyes.

Falco looks surprised, then cross-eyed as he looks at the knife. He falls, his head glancing off the table as he goes down in a heap.