“Did you see the men who attacked my warehouse last night?”
I nod.
“I needanswers, Bella,” he reprimands sharply.
I choke out a “Yes.”
“How many of them were there?”
I hesitate for a moment before answering, “Four.”
“Good.” His shoulders relax a notch and I realize that was a test. He already knew how many there were.”
“Who were they?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did they look like?”
“They wore masks.”
“Did you hear any names? Did they call each other anything?”
“No.” The lie rolls off my tongue easily—too easily, but Giovanni doesn’t question it, continuing on.
“Accents?”
“No.”
I protect them.I don’t know why I do. It happens almost involuntarily, and once I’ve done it, there’s no taking it back.
Gio’s eyebrows rise, wanting more.
“I just heard gunshots, and shouting,” I tell him, careful to look him straight in the eye. Utilizing my acting training, the little tremble I allow to shake my voice seals the deal.
He leans back in his chair, studying me… thinking. “How is it you’re the only one who survived?”
My eyes widen in true surprise.Did they… Did the Irish kill the rest of the girls?I’m going to be sick.
“I ran.”
He waits for more.
“They shot Lorenzo and I—I just ran.”
He stares at me for a long while, and I have to resist the urge to look away, to check the clock. Until finally he says, “Okay,” and rises from his perch on the coffee table.
My eyes follow him.
“So here’s how this is going to go.” He paces my living room. “You’re going to keep your pretty little mouth shut about me, what you witnessed at the club, and that whole mess at the warehouse.”
“I won’t say anything, I swear.” I stare up at him, meaning the words I say.Anythingto walk away from this.
“Oh, I know you won’t. Because I know thatyou knowwe own the cops. And I know that you know we ownyou.”
A chill runs down my spine.
“And from now on, when I say jump… you ask how fucking high. You got that?” He leans in so close to my face, the scent of his menthols is hot on my cheek.
