"Isabella..."
Enzo's voice. Gentle now. So different from the cold killer of thirty seconds ago.
I hear him move closer but I hold up one shaking hand. "Don't. Just don't, please."
He stops. I can feel him there, just out of reach. Waiting.
I force myself upright. Wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. My whole body is trembling but I make myself look at him.
Blood on his hands. On his shirt. A spray of it across his jaw.
He's a killer. I've always known that. But knowing it and seeing it are two very different things.
"I'm sorry." His voice is rough. "I didn't want you to see that."
"You had to." My voice sounds hollow.
"Yes."
At least he doesn't lie to me or try to make it pretty.
He takes a slow step forward, testing me and the situation. When I don't back away, he takes another. His hands come up slowly, carefully, like I'm a wild thing that might bolt.
"I need you to trust me." His dark eyes search mine. "Can you do that? Just for tonight?"
And I can. Because no matter how I feel, I trust this man with my life.
"Okay," I nod.
Relief flashes across his face. "Come on. We need to move."
He holds out his hand. After a second, I take it.
We run through the service exit into the cold New York night. The parking lot is chaos behind us but Enzo leads me into the shadows, away from the lights, away from the screaming.
A motorcycle sits in the darkness. Black. Sleek. Dangerous looking.
I stop dead and raise a brow. "You're kidding."
Enzo pulls out a helmet. "Do I look like I'm kidding?"
"Enzo, I'm in a torn dress and no shoes?—"
"And you'll be dead if we don't move." He shoves the helmet onto my head, his fingers quick and efficient with the strap. Then he's shrugging out of his suit jacket, wrapping it around my shoulders.
It's still warm from his body. Smells like him. I pull it tighter and try not to think about how much I've missed that smell.
Enzo swings onto the bike, kicks it to life. The engine roars loud enough to wake the dead.
He looks back at me. "Get on."
This is insane. Completely insane.
I climb on behind him. The torn dress rides up higher. The bike is powerful between my legs and Enzo is solid in front of me and I have to wrap my arms around his waist just to hold on.
The second I do, the bike takes off.
Oh shit!!!!!!!
