‘What is wrong with you?’ Jett’s body still caged her against the car, his arms wrapped around her like he was initiating a passionate embrace, except it was because she was insane. A strange sensation swooped in her gut.
She glared at him. ‘Clearly everything.’
Jett let her go and she stood up, watching as Matteo La Marca stepped out of the matte silver car.
‘I know it’s a lot to handle.’ The man’s northern Italian drawl cut through the night – clearly put on. He was first-generation Australian like Nella’s father. ‘But I don’t think killing yourself is the most mature way to come to terms with the recent revelations, Antonella.’
‘What exactly are you referring to?’ Nella said, stepping forward onto the road. Like hell she’d stand on the sidelines. ‘The part where you’ve made a slanderous, bogus claim that’s going to see you selling ten of these’—she kicked the bonnet of the Reventón—‘to pay back the legal fees we’re going to bury you under when the truth comes out? Or maybe you’re referring to the murder you’ve just committed.’
‘Murder?’ Matteo’s eyes crinkled, the lines on his face matching the crisp cuts of his grey Armani suit. Dad had never worn suits like Matteo’s; he’d said he didn’t need to wear that crap to get people to respect him.
He’d been right.
Nella suddenly wondered if they’d stopped Matteo on his way back from disposing of evidence he’d left behind at her office. But that would mean everything she knew about the La Marcas was wrong, because they never got their own hands dirty. They would have hired someone to kill Clarkson. But who?
They stared at each other while the trees hissed and an owl hooted somewhere in the karri forest. Matteo waited for her to elaborate, but his one-word question had told her everything she needed to know. He already knew Clarkson was dead.
‘I must admit, I’m so glad to see you here.’ Matteo’s veneers were like a kid’s tacky glow-in-the-dark toy. ‘I was most concerned when my lawyers informed me you would not be representing your family. They said that it didn’t look good for the Barbaranis – their own daughter not willing to argue their case.’
‘I reckon it couldn’t look anyworsefor the Barbaranis, even if you get up in court and represent the La Marcas, Antonella.’ A new voice joined them from the passenger seat of the Reventón.
Nella’s stomach dropped. She didn’t need to look any further for a killer.
There he was, Forrest Valentine, the man who’d tried to ruin the Barbaranis by poisoning a random bottle of sangue last year. A bottle that had killed university student Poppy Raven. Forrest’s face was exactly how it had looked in Max’s office, except without the little red pins securing his photo to the corkboard. Little red pins that Nella wished she could stick in his blue eyes right now.
If he’d been able to kill an innocent girl, surely that translated into the ability to kill a lawyer who may or may not have found damning evidence against his future in-laws’ claim to the sangue wine recipe. She just needed proof.
‘Now, now, Forrest.’ Matteo shook his head affectionately. ‘Poor Antonella’s had a rough afternoon – she’s been questioned by the police, an old university friend has died in her own office and she’s been lugged around town in that poor old car that ...’
‘Watch your mouth.’ Jett stepped out next to her, gallantly defending Bessy’s honour.
‘I think you’re better off watching yours, mate.’ Matteo winked at Jett. ‘Such a pretty face, after all.’
The last of Nella’s resolve snapped and she lunged at Matteo, shoving him back against his shit-ugly car.
‘Assault!’ Forrest cried, springing out of the car holding a phone with a little light. ‘I’m filming the whole thing. You just assaulted him!’
‘Give me that, you murdering piece of shit.’ Jett was taller than Forrest, but Forrest was built like a mountain with a little blond head. As Jett went for the phone, Nella let go of Matteo, whose glowing teeth had only stopped smiling for a mini-second before they were smarming down at her again like a plastic crescent moon.
‘Doesn’t matter anyway.’ Forrest grinned, as Jett pulled the phone out of his grasp. ‘My car’s dash cam backs up the footage for months. It’ll have the whole conversation since you tried to play roadkill.’
‘Leave it, Jett,’ Nella said. He did, shoving himself off Forrest in a move that could have been taken as a call to war. But Forrest retreated too. Jett tossed the phone back to him but too short, so that Forrest had to lunge for it before it smashed against the road.
‘I suspect that was misplaced rage towards your dead father more than anything to do with me,’ Matteo said. ‘I can’t be your surrogate daddy, Antonella, I’m afraid – there’s too much history there – but do keep in touch if you want to take up Forrest’s suggestion that you join my legal team.’
‘I will be joining them,’ Nella said, not moving, heart punching through her rib cage, ‘but on the opposite bench when I convince the judge to throw out this entire lawsuit. You’ve picked the wrong fucking family to go to war with, Signore La Marca. I’ll see you in court.’
‘And you.’ She pointed at Forrest Valentine. ‘Keep that video to wank over in prison. My little present for you, because Max Conrad and I are going to throw your arse in there for life.’
10
Jett
Jett let the cold air of Grey’s freezer crystallise over his warm face before he shoved Bessy’s keys underneath a packet of choc-almond Magnums (courtesy of Max, he assumed). He didn’t trust himself to not grab them in the middle of the night and drive around to the La Marca property and finish what he’d threatened to start with Forrest Valentine. The keys, that was, not the Magnums.
Would Matteo La Marca have simply continued accelerating into Nella if Jett hadn’t been there as a witness? Maybe the Barbaranis owned half the police force, but the La Marcas owned the other. If Giovanni were still alive, he’d have murdered Jett if Nella died on his watch. But with Gio gone, would he have had such a kind ending? If something happened to Nella, Jett would ... he would ...
Fuck.It was times like this he wished he drank. The doctors had successfully weaned him off heroin in his first few months but he was certain there was still a thread of that addiction in his bloodstream – something to take the edge off. Jett was made up of edges he needed to take off.
