Then he did something that almost brought me to my knees. The bastard smiled.
“I’m a dirty man, Rosalia,” he said. “There’s not enough water in this world that could wash me clean.”
Mercy, I needed it, because even though what he said was undoubtedly the truth, it only made me want to close the gap between us even more. His lips on mine. His hands on my body. His chest pressed against my chest, so that his heart beat against mine. A fight to find out who had more control. Him or me.
“Assanti.”
My head turned in the direction of the voice. Sharon was back.
“We need to get going.”
He nodded once, but he never took his eyes off me. He held my stare as he leaned in even closer to my ear. I hoped he wasn’t going to bite it off.
His cool breath on my neck made me shiver before he whispered, “Non è finita.” Then he turned his back on me and walked away.
Sharon didn’t spare me a glance as she followed behind him.
When I turned around, Cilla stood behind me, frozen. I leaned against the closed door, my chest heaving, my heart in my throat. I’d never spoken to him like that before, and I knew it was from jealousy.
Problem was, what was he going to do about it?
“This isn’t over.”
I was looking forward to it.
9
Aniello
The sun made me feel fried, even though a chill ran through my body. My feet were steady, but my head felt like it was on a rocking boat during a storm. My stomach lurched, but I forced it down.
Fuck being shot. I had things to do.
“Assanti,” Sharon called as I walked toward my car. Quentin waited for me. I’d sent him a text the night before so he wouldn’t wait around. I’d asked him to come pick me up when I knew Sharon was on her way.
“I’ll do,” I said before she could bitch.
“You won’t!” she snapped. “You need rest, you hardheaded bastard!”
“Look at you with the love letters.” I opened the door to my car. “You get more creative with each one.” I cut off whatever she was going to say as I got in and shut the door behind me. I looked at Quentin. “I’ll drive.”
“Fuck you will,” he said, putting it in gear. “I’m going to be a responsible date and get you home safely.”
He was throwing a jab at me from what happened the night before. Instead of the sluggish feeling slithering its way throughout my body like venom, the thought of those skeletons seemed to bring me back to life.
“Abe got the info?” I said, even though the numbers of the van would be branded into my memory for as long as I lived.
“Yeah, he got it.” He looked at me from the corner of his eye. “You getting slow in your old age or what, Assanti? How you’d let ’em get so close?” He motioned to my shoulder with a hand.
“Or what,” I said, wiping my head. The constant ache made me sweat. The cool air blowing on my face from the air conditioner made my teeth almost chatter, but turning it off made me feel like I was in hell.
The things I did in my life were mine and mine alone, but when I returned after being gone for a while, especially with something telling, like a gunshot wound, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together about what I did in this life. Because it came down to two simple categories: makers and hitters. Most people knew what group I belonged to.
Truth be told, I rarely came back with a scratch. That was why my world called me “The Titanium Candle.” It was easy to get snuffed out in this life, but I had proved to be stronger than most weapons—hence the titanium part. This time, though, my mind wasn’t where it was supposed to be, and I got fucking nicked.
I considered what would have happened to her if I hadn’t arrived in time, and the crave in me to shed blood was so strong, I could smell the sweetness of it in the air.
“You should have let Sharon set you straight though, man. You look like shit.”
