I was bait.
I led them in here to die like a lamb leading wolves to slaughter.
Bile rises in my throat. I stumble away from the bodies, my feet slipping on blood. My shoes leave red footprints across the marble.
Hidden in a wall’s molding is a side door I didn’t notice before. I throw it open and plunge through, finding myself in a dark hallway. Behind me, I hear shouting and footsteps, but I don’t stop.
I run through the building until I burst through a fire exit into an alley, the cold air hitting me so hard I gasp. I collapse against a dumpster and vomit, my whole body shaking.
When there’s nothing left in my stomach, and I’ve retched until my abdomen aches, I wipe my mouth with a trembling hand and look down at myself. My lilac dress is soaked with blood. It’s under my fingernails. It’s in my hair. I can taste it. Mrs. Vici’s blood. The daughter’s blood. All of them.
Somewhere out there, Vincenzo Vici just lost everyone he loves because of me.
I press my hands over my mouth to stifle my sobs, but they come anyway, tearing painfully through me.
I start running again, and I don’t stop.
Present day
You oweme another kiss for that, doe.
The voice is a purr in the darkness, and I arch into phantom hands that trace fire down my body. My fingers find hard muscle beneath a blood-soaked T-shirt, and I pull him closer, desperate for—
I jerk upright on the sofa, gasping.
A towel is tangled around my waist. The sharp scents of blood and desire vanish. The events of last night come tumbling back.
The laundromat. The dead Dervishis. The killer who kissed me.
Looking around, I realize I’m in the living room instead of in my own bed because I never did clean my sheets. Distantly, I can hear an electronic bleating.
Light blazes through the window. My phone alarm is blaring in another room.
I realize with a jolt that I’m late for work.
I scramble into discarded clothes, scoop my hair into a ponytail, grab my bag, and burst out the door. It’s turned brutally cold overnight, and my breath turns to vapor in the air. I forgot my coat, and icy wind bites into my flesh. My sneakers slap against the sidewalk, but the rhythm can’t chase away the echoes of last night.
When I round the corner, the reality of what happened crashes over me. Frantic red-and-blue flashing lights illuminate the laundromat, and the area around it is cordoned off withyellow tape. People dressed head to toe in white protective suits are moving around inside.
Police are questioning people by the yellow tape, no doubt hoping to find a witness to last night’s murders.
I put my head down and cross to the other side of the street.
The coffee shop where I work is another block down and around a corner. I wish I could breathe easier when the laundromat disappears behind me, but anxiety clings to me even inside the coffee shop, surrounded by the rich scent of coffee and chattering voices.
My boss, whom I’ve secretly nicknamed Grumpy Graham, glares at me from behind the coffee machine. He’s opened the shop by himself, and he’s trying to take orders while making coffee at the same time. “You’re late, Adora.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, hurrying past him to sling my bag under the counter, and say breathlessly to the next customer, “Thank you for waiting. What can I get for you?”
My shift drags on, and all customers want to talk about is the murders that happened around the corner. I say mechanically, “Isn’t it terrible? Here’s your coffee,” over and over. My smile is strained, and I flinch every time I hearbloodorknifeorCCTV. I forgot that there might be CCTV inside the laundromat. I gave that Vici a knife. Ikissedhim. I break out in a cold sweat when I remember my sheets are still in a machine, covered in my DNA. If the police discover my identity, they’ll believe I’m the Vicis’ accomplice.
Yet it’s not the police I fear. They’ll go to my father once they figure out who I am, and when Dad tells them I’m not there, they’ll put out a statement saying they wish to speak to Adora Montoni, a person of interest in connection with the laundromat murders, along with a picture of me. My midnight kisser will discover exactly who I am.
A Montoni.
And not just any Montoni, but the woman who was meant to marry Vincenzo Vici, and is therefore responsible for the family’s slaughter.
The killer will find me, and this time, there’ll be no heated embraces and panting breaths as I explore his muscular body.
