Page 24 of Salvatore

“He messaged a while ago and said he and Olivia are both doing okay.” Abri takes a sip from her wineglass, a sly smile on her face as Bishop whispers something in her ear I’m sure would produce projectile vomit if I was unlucky enough to overhear. “They seem to be a good fit, don’t you think?”

I keep my mouth shut and let the conversation continue without me.

I’m not in the club mood, especially when the atmosphere smothers me with memories of a deity molded against me on the dance floor, her phenomenal body swaying to the music, her mouth against mine, only for her to stiffen to the point of breaking when she saw my face for the first time.

Ivy fucking knows something.

Most women I’ve met part their thighs at the mere sense of danger. But she didn’t just sense it—she understood it. It was as if she had a 3D, technicolor view of who I am and what I stand for.

She couldn’t have obtained that insight from anyone other than Olivia. Insight that will no doubt lead to her death.

Given what’s on the line, I should’ve made looking into her a priority. Yes, I’ve been distracted while taking over my baby brother’s responsibilities and ensuring he wasn’t sent to an early grave. But I’d also found the time to travel to Virginia Beach to see my mother. The ninety-minute helicopter flight was eighty-eight minutes longer than I’d have needed to text Bishop to do a more thorough background check on the woman straddling my mind.

Ivy’s a liability.

One that can’t be excused just because of a sultry face and a phenomenal set of curves.

“I need you to do some digging.” I stare at Bishop across the booth, his lust-filled attention leaving my sister and glowering back at me with annoyance.

“I didn’t come to Baltimore to work.” He slides his arm under the table, no doubt gliding a hand over Abri’s thigh, or somewhere else more bile-inducing.

“Given what happened at the wake,” I drawl, “I’d say old habits die hard.”

Apparently, Bishop had been in the bathroom with Remy, eagerly egging my brother into killing a man who’d threatened Olivia. What would he do if he knew my brother’s latest obsession may have blabbed our family secrets to the world?

“What am I digging for?” he growls.

“Information.”

His glower increases with impatience.

“On a woman,” I clarify, taking a mouthful of bourbon from my rocks glass. “The name’s Ivy Diaz.”

His eyes narrow. “Why does that name ring a bell?”

“Because you already arranged a background check on her before we went into business with Carlo Pelosi.”

“So why the fuck am I doing it again?”

“You did an obligatory check. This time I need something thorough.”

“Was this the woman you kept eyeballing during the funeral?” my sister asks.

Of course she paid attention. Abri could be medically comatose and still notice if me or my brothers glanced at a member of the opposite sex for longer than she deemed casual.

“Yes,” I mutter around another swallow of bourbon.

“Who is she?” she asks.

I scowl at her. “Obviously, that’s what I’m trying to ascertain.”

“What are you looking for exactly?” Matthew cuts in.

A reason not to kill her.

“I don’t know.” I take out my cell and scan the code on the table, hiding the cloying need for information behind the laid-back task. “Something other than the bullshit story I was originally given. There’s gotta be more to her than what was in her file.”

“Why?” Bishop demands.

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