And why the hell would he be following us?
“Your clutch,” he said.
“My clutch?”
He reached toward me, his hand going to the interior pocket of the jacket I was wearing and pulling out my tiny clutch that I didn’t remember him having.
“You left it on the table,” he explained.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he pulled it open and started to sift around.
“Motherfucker.”
I could barely see what was in his hand before he was moving toward the side of the building, hauling back, and sending it sailing it off into the darkness.
“What—” I started.
“Tracker,” he said, grabbing my hand. “We have to move. Right now.”
With that, he was once again pulling me along with him. We moved across the rooftop, then down the rickety old fire escape.
“Venezio!” I yelped as I dropped down first.
And a low, angry growl met me.
“Don’t move,” he called, rushing down behind me.
“Bitch, get the fuck out of here,” a voice said as I backed up against the wall while the dog dropped down slightly and snarled harder.
“Get your fucking dog,” Venezio snarled as he dropped down and moved to step in front of me.
“Who the fuck—”
“I said get your fucking dog,” Venezio snapped, his tone so cold that a shiver racked my system.
I didn’t know what had the man jumping to do what he was told. Until I looked at Venezio and saw his arm extended.
And in his hand?
That was a gun.
He had a gun?
How did he have a gun?
Where had he hid a gun?
As soon as the man had the dog by the collar, Venezio was reaching back, grabbing my wrist, and pulling me with him toward the entrance to the other building.
“You have a gun,” I said dumbly, as we moved into the warm building, the change in temperature making my skin burn.
“I do,” he said, lowering it down by his side but not putting it away.
“Why do you have a gun?”
He stayed silent on that as he walked through the building, then led us to the front door.
“Babe, listen, we are going to need to run again.”
