One more brush of his hand, and then he’s leaving.
I hear myself say to his back, “Thank you.”
He pauses, just long enough for me to think he won’t answer.
Then he inclines his head. “You never have to thank me,gemma.”
I sit there long after he’s gone, puzzled by that odd word he threw my way, staring at the empty chair across from me. Trying not to think about how safe I felt for those few minutes.
Or how dangerous that feeling is.
12
GIOVANNI
Istep out of the pub and let the door swing shut behind me.
The night is cool, sharp enough to clear my head. I pause on the sidewalk, adjust my jacket, then take my phone out of my pocket and dial a number I know by heart.
Nico answers on the second ring.
“You’re up late,” he says.
“So are you.”
A quiet breath on the other end. “What do you need, Giovanni?”
“There’s a girl,” I say. “Coral Price. She disappeared three years ago.”
I start walking, slow and unhurried, keeping my eyes on the reflection in the darkened storefronts. “She’d be about twenty-two now. Vanished in the city. No body was found.”
Nico is silent for a moment.
“Price,” he says at last. “Like Amber Price?”
“Yes.”
Another pause. Longer this time. I don’t need a soothsayer to know what he’s thinking.
“I’ll look into it myself,” he says finally. “If it matters to you, it matters.”
It shouldn’t ease something in my chest, but it does.
“But,” Nico continues, “we need to talk about something else.”
I exhale through my nose. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”
“You’re still without a second,” he says. “Lorenzo has been gone too long.”
“He’s not gone,” I reply. “He’s where he needs to be.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“I’m doing fine on my own.”
A faint sound—almost a laugh. “That’s not true.”
I stop walking.
