She rolls her eyes, but her eyes flick back to my bare chest where I have plenty of evidence of our fucking. There’s a hickey on my collarbone and I’m sure there’s some lingering red marks from her nails.
“I’m serious.”
“About the shirt?”
“Don’t die, Angelo. I’ll ... make sure you’re buried without a dick or something,” she huffs.
I close the space between us and press my lips to hers, savoring the moment. “If you want to make a cast of my dick so you can turn it into a toy, all you have to do is ask.”
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the smile she’s trying to hide. I lean in and kiss her once more. “Don’t fuck anyone else,” I growl.
“You won’t know the difference.”
“I will and I’ll make sure that they live a very long life without the fingers they put inside you, without a tongue if they slip it between your lips, and a cock if they go all the way with you,” I promise her before pulling her close and kissing her again.
She rolls her eyes. “Does that line work?”
I nip her ear. “You’re impossible to flirt with.”
“Get better ... material or whatever. Look things up online. Be a human instead of a walking red flag,” she snorts.
I chuckle. “Cruel.”
She glances at the hickey she left on me, then up at me. “I already told you I’m coming back. Isn’t that ... better than flirting?”
“A promise is always better,” I agree, brushing a slow tender kiss against her lips.
She runs her fingers over my chest. “No dying ... minimal murder. Make whatever poor bastard replaces me handle it.”
“We know it’s not your partner. He’d rip off my balls.”
She smirks “As long as he leaves your dick, that doesn’t sound half bad.” Then, as if to prove her point, she trails her knuckles over my bulge before sauntering away, leaving me longing for another stolen kiss.
It’s going to be a long night without her here. I’ve gotten too used to her stumbling in the hall at night, waking me up when she closes cupboards or hits the few squeaky spots on the stairs.
“It’s necessary,” I remind myself. “Itkeeps her safe and alive. It keeps us from having more problems or attention than we need ... it’ll keep me focused.”
Closing my eyes, I try to dislodge the heavy stone rolling around in my chest, telling me something is wrong. I text Mateo, letting him I know something is up, but my house phone rings. I stare at it. No one calls me here.
I pick it up and hear my father’s voice. He speaks Italian as if the police won’t get a translator. “It’s happening. Accept it.”
“It’s pointless and you know it.”
“I thought letting Emilia run around was fine. I thought she couldn’t damage us. She proved me wrong. That means you need to be back in action. I’m not waiting for you to be cleared of charges for that.”
“So you’ll what? Kill me? Fake my death?”
“Yes.”
The word rings in my ear like a siren.
“You’ll bleed enough. We’ll patch you up, set a fire, leave a corpse. It would have been better if you’d kept the cop there,” he says darkly.
I don’t tell him this is a recorded line.
There was a time that I would havestomached this. Like Luisa said yesterday, I threatened a child. I wouldn’t have gone through with it. I don’t hurt kids. But faking my death, that would be fine. Taking a cop out with me shows commitment, also fine. But Luisa ...
“Angelo, you aren’t slipping, are you?”
