It didn’t take us long to get to Dr. Sharon’s house. I apologized for being so late, and then held Bambina close as Aniello took off like he had somewhere important he needed to be.
Before we got there in record time, I needed to know something. I rubbed Bambina behind her ears, looking right at him when I asked, “How did you know where to find me?”
“It’s my business to know everything,” he said.
“That still doesn’t—”
“Where’s Priscilla, Midnight Rose?”
“Priscilla,” I repeated, stalling.
He started to describe her, being a real ass.
“I know what she looks like.” I sighed. Then I decided to be honest, but not too honest. “She went to the market. I usually pick her up after I volunteer at the shelter, but she was going to take a cab home. She’s probably there by now.”
“Doubtful,” he said.
It was hard to tell by his flat tone if he knew the truth or not, but being true to her, I wasn’t going to say anything unless she tried to meet Joey again. She was owed this. A final goodbye.
As we pulled into the garage of the building, I noticed Quentin tailing us. Instead of coming under, he idled in front of the building. Aniello pulled into my designated spot, and as I put my hand on the door to open it, he put his hand on my arm.
“A man doesn’t open and close your doors, he’s not a man. You’ll insult me if you open that door.”
He left me with my mouth open as he walked around and opened my door for me. I was even more speechless when he walked me to my condo. We stood there for a second, me trying to think of a million ways to thank him for saving me, but none seemed sufficient.
“Thank you—” I ended up blurting out. “It—”
“Open the door,” he said, cutting me off.
I narrowed my eyes against his before I did as he said. I went in first, but he was close behind me, flipping on lights and checking out the apartment before I even had a chance to put Bambina down. As soon as I did, she ran to him, sniffing around his shoes.
Noticing her, he bent down and gave her his fingers to sniff. But he really didn’t have to. I could tell she liked him. Her entire body wiggled with the wagging of her tail.
“She doesn’t like many people,” I said. “Consider yourself lucky.”
“Always do,” he said, standing up, going to check Cilla’s room.
If she wasn’t home, he was going to call me out for being a liar. I was going to lie to him, but not with all this ridiculous paint staining my body.
“I’m going to wash up a bit,” I called out to him.
He never answered, so after I gathered up some clean clothes, I took my time washing off the paint and festival grime—and the fear sweat that seemed to coat my body. As the warm water rushed down my skin, I felt so tired suddenly. It was a weariness that had rooted itself deep down in my bones. Even using the towel to dry and lifting my arms and legs to dress myself in a pair of silk pajamas left me feeling like I’d run a marathon.
As soon as my head hit the pillow, I knew I was going to knock out. Except I couldn’t slip into my bed and shut the world out. There was a man in it. Aniello.
The sight of him did wicked things to my imagination, bringing back fantasies I’d had about him in this bed. I had to take a steadying deep breath to keep the sudden rush of emotions from making me lightheaded.
When I really looked at him, though, I realized something wasn’t right.
Beads of sweat ran down his face, and he was pale. A shiver seemed to rock his body as he lay there. If my mind hadn’t been where it never should have been, I would have noticed how bad he looked. It was like he took a seat, maybe because he needed a minute, and after he did, he had no choice but to lay back and close his eyes.
That was when I noticed it. Blood seeping through his white dress shirt. Right around his shoulder.
The car. The smell. He knew it wasn’t coming from me because it was coming fromhim.
My hands were chilled from the shower, and I pulled one back after I’d set it against his head. He was burning up with fever. A droplet of water from my wet hair fell against his face, and I expected it to sizzle like butter in a pan.
“Aniello,” I said, my voice close to panicked. He didn’t answer. Didn’t even stir. “Aniello!” I said a little louder, shaking the shoulder that wasn’t blossoming with blood.
