His jaw loosens a little, and his shoulders drop when he sighs.“No, it’s not him.Everyone’s fine as far as I know.”
“Then what is it?Goddammit, talk to me!”
All he does is drag me to the car, waiting in a no-parking zone with the hazard lights blinking.When he opens the back door, I slam it shut, glaring up at him.“I’m not a child!”
“You’re doing a pretty damn good impression of one,” he groans, reaching for the handle again.When I swat his hand away, he bares his teeth, his brows lowering behind his glasses.There’s that look again.The one he gave me before, weeks ago, on the first day he drove me.That scary shifting of his features—the reminder of the animal he barely keeps under control.
Instead of chilling me as it did before, that shift heats my blood until all of my confusion, frustration, and hatred are ready to boil over.
“You need to learn to stop testing me,” he warns, his voice a menacing growl that lifts the hair on the back of my neck.
Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I scoff.“And you need to treat me like a person and not something you can shove around.It’s bad enough I have to take it at home, but I’ll be damned if I take it from?—”
“From who?”He arches an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth tugging up.“Finish your thought.”
Goddammit.One day, I will learn to stop talking before I say too much, but today is obviously not that day.He knows what I was going to say too.I can tell.I’ll be damned if I take it from somebody like you.
All I can do is stutter, searching for a response, but he cuts me off with a grunt before leaning down and stealing all the air from my lungs once the scent of his cologne envelops me.I freeze solid, except for the goose bumps covering my body, the instant his hot breath hits my ear.“There’s been trouble.I’m taking you home to be safe.”
Certain bits of shorthand are universal for people who grew up the way we did.‘There’s been trouble’is always code for ‘something bad has gone down, and we’re circling the wagons.’
I can see why he wouldn’t want to say anything in front of the girls too.They’re civilians.They either can’t know or wouldn’t understand if they did.
“Now,” he concludes in that same low, intimate growl.“Are you going to get in the car, or am I going to throw you in?”
A shiver runs through me when he raises his glasses to look me in the eye.It’s funny, but he has always looked at me like he knows me better than he should.Why did I never notice that until now?
This time, when he opens the door, I get in and accept the backpack and phone when he hands them over.It’s such a shame a backpack can’t act as a shield against whatever is happening between us.
We’ve made it up to the corner by the time I find my voice.“So what happened?You said everybody’s okay?”
“Your family is fine.But a warehouse full of goods and the guys guarding them went up in flames this morning.The Scarpetta family is taking credit and promised more to come.”
He looks at me in the mirror before making a turn that will lead us out of the city.“Dante called to give me the heads-up.”
Now I can exhale, knowing none of my loved ones were involved.“Oh.That’s all it was.”
“All it was?”he asks before letting out a silent laugh.“Sorry.Would you like it better if I said there was another explosion at your estate?”
“Don’t even joke about it,” I snap.That day was a nightmare from start to finish, at least until Sophia came back home.Even then, I spent the next week waking up in a cold sweat, remembering how the house shook when the bomb went off down at the front gate.
“All those guys who died today had families, if not wives, girlfriends, parents.Siblings.Just like you.And now they’re dead,” he snaps with disdain and anger dripping from every word.
I feel about two inches tall by the time he’s finished, at least until the first flush of shame fades away, and I remember who I’m riding with.Of all people, he’s going to lecture me about the value of life and caring about what others go through?“Is that what you told yourself whenever you killed somebody?”I ask.
A soft growl fills the front seat, and once again, I could slap myself for saying too much, twice in less than five minutes.Maybe I shouldn’t insult the guy driving the car while we’re actually in motion.
The air in the car is so thick, I can barely breathe.Dark, seething energy is rolling off him.His hands have tightened around the wheel so his knuckles stand out bone-white under his tanned skin.Terrific.For my next trick, I’ll wave my hand around in a tank full of piranhas.
Should I say something?Apologize?I want to, that’s the thing.I shouldn’t have said it.My brothers have both killed people.Papa too.I might be the youngest, but I am not clueless.
They had their reasons.Alessandro had his.If he’s evil, so are they.
But I can’t forget watching Emilia struggle after he hurt her.
I guess I must have forgotten a little, though, right?Considering I’ve made myself come to the thought of him.The line between right and wrong has blurred to the point where I can’t see it anymore.I don’t even remember where it was.
By the time we take the last turn before reaching the estate, I’m ready to jump out of the car and run the rest of the way.Sweat is starting to bead at my temples, and I might scream if my nerves shred any more than they already have.He hasn’t said a word in thirty minutes, but it might as well be hours.
