Then she’s through the window.
I growl a curse and launch after her. Gripping the edge of the window with my free hand, I glance down, and she’s already halfway to the ground.Merda.
The night air slams cold against my face as I rush out onto the fire escape, squeezing my body through the tiny opening. The metal groans under my weight as I reach the ladder.
Shit, this is not going to go well. It’s rusty and flimsy as all hell. “Stop,cazzo,or I’ll shoot!” I shout again, pointing the gun at her, but she’s too damned fast.
Cursing, I gingerly step down onto the first step. It creaks ominously but holds. I pray toDiothat Ale has the Velvet Vault’s fire escape up to code. Only four floors down… When I’m fairly certain it’ll hold, I dart down the rickety ladder two steps at a time.
Trigger is well below me now, scaling down like she was born for this, her boots barely whispering against the iron.
“Stop!” I roar again, but it only makes her move faster.
I leap from the last rusty platform onto the final ladder and the bolts let out a sharp squeal. The whole thing shakes like it’s ready to come off the wall. My shoes hit the metal hard, too hard.
Crack. The sharp sound sends my pulse skyrocketing. The rusty bracket snaps, and the ladder gives way beneath me.
“Fuck!”
For a second, I’m weightless, panic and numbness washing over me in the longest seconds of my life. I hit the pavement flat on my back, the impact blasting the air out of my lungs. Pain ricochets through my ribs. For a second, all I can do is gasp.
Just to my right, I hear the staccato clang of boots. Shit, she’s already on the ground, already coming for me.
This is it. The end.
I’m flat on my back, barely breathing and completely useless. My gun fell only a few feet away, but it feels like an eternity. Isearch for her looming shadow from the corner of my eye, for the muzzle of the gun in my face. Only it never comes.
The smack of footfalls through the alley grows distant. Not closer.
“Stop teasing me, Trigger,” I rasp, my lungs still not at full capacity after the hit. I can’t even summon the energy to move my hand, let alone think about aiming.
“It’s all part of the fun, Rossi,” she calls back but her voice is faint.
There’s something about the familiar timbre that has my body finally responding. My heart kicks up, and I push myself to my knees. But by the time I stagger to my feet and find my gun, she’s gone.
Just smoke. Just silence. And the echo of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
I just stand here like an asshole for a long minute, her voice lingering in the still air. Finally, I heave in a breath before slamming my fist against the wall, fury boiling through me.
As I release a string of curses that would have Nonna rolling in her grave, I see it. Half-hidden near the base of the fire escape, caught on a jagged bolt. A scrap of black. I lunge for it, my fingers moving on their own. Her mask.
I finger the satin, lacey material and turn it over in my hand. The fabric is still warm from her skin, faintly scented with citrus and smoke. My pulse spikes all over again.
She was right here. In my sights. I should’ve ended this.
But I didn’t. Icouldn’t.
And deep down, I know exactly why. Because the flash of ocean blue through the slits of this mask was the same hue that used to look up at me on the beaches in Sicily.
CHAPTER 10
BACK TO THE BEGINNING
Caitríona
From the rooftop across the street, the Velvet Vault looks almost harmless. With the setting sun, the chandeliers glow through the third-floor tall windows, pink and gold light spilling onto the pavement below like a final echo of the bridal shower debauchery inside. The lingering sounds of laughter, music, and the clink of champagne glasses still bleeds into the cool evening air.
I crouch low on the gravel roofline, careful to remain out of sight of the dozen security guards heralding the Rossis and Valentinos to their fancy cars. The city wind tugs at my jacket, so I shove my chilly fingers into the pockets. Searching for the familiar satin fabric of my mask, I come up empty.
