An Italian on the run from the Mafia. A reporter seeking the truth. Will they reveal their feelings before danger strikes?
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Reclusive writer Luca Ross...
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"Please. I'm not that stupid, Luca. Skylar upset me by spilling coffee on me. Did she tell you that? No? I don't want her around. She's going to call the cops if we let her go, so we're going to have to kill her."
"Okay, Annalisa. Just hand her over to me. I'll do what you want. I'll take you anywhere you want. Tell me. Tell me what you want to hear so you trust me."
His voice was seductive, and a sob wrenched from Annalisa's mouth. "Tell me what you remember about the last time we made love. Details. Or do you even remember?"
Luca swallowed hard, then said something in Italian. I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to look at him. What was he going to reveal?
"No, say it in English," Annalisa said. "So your friend understands. Open your eyes, bambina, and look at your boyfriend. Tell her, Luca."
"We were at my parents' house," he said in a low voice.
"And?" Annalisa demanded. "What did you have me do?"
"You got on your knees."
"And?" The triumph and fury in Annalisa's eyes was terrifying. "Tell her."
"And then I fucked you from behind."
"Then he texted me a week later to break up. Skylar, can you believe that? He broke up with me by text."
I panted and shook my head. The entire room took on a hyper-real state, the fluorescents of the bathroom suddenly harsh. I stopped weeping, and my eyes went to the bathroom mirror to study the twisted scene. What the fuck was going on? Was I disassociating because of the insanity and trauma of it all?
As Luca and Annalisa stared at each other, I realized I was bigger than Annalisa. Probably stronger. Definitely more muscular. The Italian woman was tiny and frail-looking.
Still, she had killed Gianni.
"Fine," Luca said. "I'll kill her. Just give her to me."
My eyes went to Luca, wide and incredulous.
Annalisa shook her head. "No. Not going to fall for that. We'll have to kill her together, I suppose. I want to see her blood. She's a sacrifice. She represents all the women you've screwed, Luca, when you should have been with me. How many were there?"
He shook his head, and Annalisa pressed the flat side of her knife blade harder into my neck.
"How many? Tell us both. Let your little American whore know the truth about you."
Luca said something in Italian, and Annalisa laughed. "I'll translate. Skylar, he's fucked about ten or so women since me. What, in two years? But he's probably lost track of a few. How many of those women have you loved, Luca? I want you to include me and Skylar. Tell us."
He swallowed hard. I bowed my head and sobbed. This was too much.
