“Is anyone here?”
She shakes her head. “No, but Sal will be coming back soon.” She glances to each side and grabs my hand. “Follow me.”
She practically drags me to the back of the restaurant and into a room. I’m guessing it’s the same room where Rex met his father when he brought me here for dinner.
“You lied to me,” I state, surprised at how calm I am.
Maybe this is the end. The calm before the storm.
“What are you talking about?”
“Rex knows who I am.”
Her eyes widen, her brows pushing into her hairline. “What? How?”
“That doesn’t matter. For most of my life I’ve been unable to remember the day my father was murdered. My psychiatrist believes I was suppressing the memory. She kept telling me one day I’d remember, one day a switch would flip in my head and every memory would come flooding back. That day has come. I remember everything, Isabella. I remember seeing your husband put a gun to my father’s head. I remember the sound of the shot, the lifeless look in my father’s eyes as he lay on the ground in a pool of his own blood.”
Isabella’s starts shaking her head, her lips parted as though she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.
“You told me you didn’t know who killed my father.”
“I didn’t,” she insists. “Sal never said a word to me.”
“Your boys were there,” I hiss. “Your own children were there, and they chased after Cami and me.”
Tears fall from her eyes, and she makes no move to brush them away. “I had no idea. I swear. You have to believe me.”
“That’s the thing, I don’t believe you—”
“She’s telling the truth.” The deep, unfamiliar voice breaks through the room, and I spin around. A tall man looms by the back door, and I instantly recognize Sal Ambrosi. He looks the same as he did fourteen years ago, only with more gray in his hair and a few more pounds around his middle. Also like the last time I saw him, his eyes are cold and menacing and locked on mine.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Bianca DiMarco,” he says, walking to the center of the room. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he tilts his head to the side and studies me. “Even more beautiful today than you were as a child.”
My stomach tightens into a knot as his eyes sweep up and down my body.
“I knew I recognized you when Rex brought you here. Couldn’t place you at first, because I’m getting old.” He laughs humorlessly, glancing between me and Isabella. “But Rex seemed to think I wouldn’t know who you are. He told me you’d just moved here.”
“Rex has nothing to do with this,” Isabella says, taking a hesitant step toward her husband.
“You’re right, my sweet Isa.” In an exorcist sort of way, Sal’s head swivels toward his wife. “This doesn’t appear to be about Rex at all. So why don’t you explain why it appears to be about you.”
With each step he takes toward Isabella, she steps back until he has her pressed against the wall. Fear radiates off her in waves, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up when he presses a hand to the center of her throat.
“Did you tell Miss DiMarco that you had a torrid affair with her father?”
She doesn’t immediately answer, and he pushes harder, causing her face to turn red.
“I told her,” she gasps. “She knows.”
“Is that why you killed him?” I ask, wanting to hear him say it, hoping he’ll give me the reason I need to pull my gun out and put a bullet between his eyes.
He laughs again, removing his hand from Isabella’s throat. She reaches for her neck and watches as her husband turns toward me.
“Your daddy fucked my wife,” he sneers.
“That’s not all he did,” I say.
Sal cocks a brow. “Excuse me?”