Paulo's face went white. "Me? Dead? No. I don't think so. Why?"

Quinn leaned forward. "Because if the brakes were tampered with, someone wanted that car to crash. Either Helena was the target, or you were."

"Or both," I added, my voice flat.

Paulo shook his head quickly. "No one wants me dead. I'm nobody. Just a personal trainer."

"A personal trainer fucking a billionaire's wife," Quinn corrected. "That makes you somebody. Just how many clients have you fooled around with? Did you dump ...