“You just surprised me, is all.”
“You on edge?”
“For obvious reasons. I’m being blackmailed by a bunch of asshole Italians.”
He pretended to look wounded. “How dare you. We’re not assholes, we’re perfectly pleasant. This is just business, after all.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m here to collect what you owe.” His smile dropped away. “No more games. No more delays.” He pulled something from his pocket them flicked it open.
The knife gleamed in the moonlight, glittering off the sharp blade.
I stared into his eyes.
“It’s happening in an abandoned middle school out in Mt. Airy.”
He tilted his head, a little surprise on his lips as he stepped closer, knife gripped tightly. I glanced over his shoulder, hoping Mack would be there, or someone, anyone that might keep this bastard from hurting me, but there was nothing.
“When?” he pressed.
“I don’t know. Can’t you figure that out?”
“We could, but there’s a reason we’re blackmailing you instead.” He looked thoughtful. “Which abandoned middle school?”
“I doubt there are many. Why don’t you go drive around until you find it?”
He scowled at me and held the knife up, the blade horizonal across his face. “This isn’t much. You know that, right? You’re coming to me with this thin shit and you expect me to be happy.”
“I’m giving you what you want,” I said, a hint of desperation creeping into my tone. “Just please don’t hurt Connor, okay? This was as much as I can get you without ruining everything. You don’t want me to get caught already, right?”
He hesitated, lowered the knife. “You’re not as smart as you think you are and you don’t know what we want.” He flipped the knife closed and I nearly threw up with relief. “If this doesn’t pan out, you will be hearing from me. I’ll send a box to your apartment with your brother’s tongue wrapped in aluminum foil.”
He shoved the knife into his pocket and walked away.
I watched him go and slumped back against the wall. I felt tears in my eyes and gripped my hands into fists, banging them against the brick wall.
God, I hadn’t been expecting this. I should’ve been prepared to see Renzo, but instead he surprised me, and now I was a mess.
More footsteps. Someone splashed into that same puddle. I opened my eyes, expecting Tom, but Mack stood a few feet in front of me instead, breathing hard.
“I saw him leave the alley,” he said, eyes narrowed. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said weakly. “He didn’t hurt me.”
“I should’ve waited in here for you. I’ve been circling the block and he must’ve slipped in while I was on the other side. Fuck, Fiona. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” I reached out on instinct, wanting to comfort him for some insane reason. I touched his arm and he drifted closer, his hands moving down to my hips.
I let him touch me. I craved the comfort he could bring, even if the comfort was a poison.
“I know this is complicated, but I’m going to get you out of it. I promise, Fiona. I’m all yours.”
“Don’t talk like that.” I stared into his eyes, trying to understand what this man saw when he looked back at me. There was only devotion there—devotion and rage. “You don’t owe me anything, right?”
“I don’t owe you a thing,” he said, moving closer, his lips parted, his eyes like two lightning bolts running down my spine, “but I want you anyway. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” I put my hands on his chest.
He kissed my cheek, his lips warm and inviting. I pressed myself against him and squeezed my eyes shut against the tears.
He held me quietly in that alley until I felt calm enough to head back to his car. We drove back to his place, and he listened as I told him about work—listened as if he gave a shit about me pouring beer and whiskey for a bunch of drunks.
But he seemed interested, like the details of my life were fascinating.
He carried my bag inside and took it up to my room.
“I think I’m going to shower and go to bed,” I said, stretching my back. “I’ve been on my feet for a while and I really need to get out of these clothes.”
“I can help. I’m very good at washing backs.”
“I suspect that if I let you anywhere near my shower, you won’t be doing any cleaning.”
“That’s very true.”
I shook my head and waved him off. “Go do whatever you do when you’re not killing people.”
He sighed dramatically. “When I’m not killing, I’m planning my next kill. It’s a simple life, but a good one.”
I didn’t know if I should smile or laugh or feel terrified.
He went downstairs and I locked the bathroom door.
I stood in the shower and let the hot water run down my face. I closed my eyes and thought of Connor in some Lionetti basement, suffering needlessly, dying because I couldn’t save him fast enough.