Run To Rome

“You’re not the only one,” she said.

“Good to know you can pull it together when the chips are down.”

“Any help I managed today was nothing more than dumb luck.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

Silence reigned while he finished eating and then set the bowl aside. He took a drink of wine, holding the liquid in his mouth to savor the full flavor. She’d grown on him like the Chianti. A little dry and acidic at first, but the longer the tang remained on his tongue, the more he craved another taste of earthy spices and sweet black cherries with a hint of raspberry. The complex contradictions of Halliwell Sanders were as seductive as the wine.

He shifted in his wet jeans to find a more comfortable position. Maybe he should go change.

She cast him a glance before gazing back over the windshield. “You want to hear something really stupid?”

“Um...it’s not about me, is it?”

“Nope—all me.” This time her laugh sounded self-conscious.

“Then shoot,” he encouraged, content to sit as long as she was volunteering personal information.

“I know this’ll sound crazy, but I was so glad to see that guy get up again back at the boathouse.”

Dread stiffened his shoulders. Ramped up the pain in his arm. Of all subjects for her to bring up. He’d purposely avoided any thoughts about the man he’d hit with the iron patio chair. The one he’d left floating face down in the pool. “It’s not crazy at all.”

“You don’t think so? Even if the

y would’ve killed us?” She gestured in his direction as she steered around a cruiser twice the size of his boat. “I mean, they shot you. If I had killed my guy, you’d think I shouldn’t feel bad at all.”

“Normal people don’t take pleasure in killing another human being.”

She stole another glance at him. “Did you really take out the guy on the patio?”

So much for not thinking about it. He swirled the wine in his glass and downed the remainder before giving a curt nod.

“You seem pretty calm about it.”

If only she knew this egotistical jerk’s stomach was threatening to give back the Spaghetti O’s. He dropped his feet to the floor and stood, fists clenched at his side. His flesh burned under the bandage from the flex of muscle, but the pain reminded him of what was at stake.

“The bullet that sliced my arm was meant for my head. I’d be dead if I hadn’t defended myself, and most likely, so would you.”

“I know.”

“These same men murdered my only brother, then took his private hell and turned it against him for the whole world to see. Sean did not commit suicide.” He started to head downstairs, but anger swung him back to face her. “And then there’s Lorenzo. He was a retired cop. Thirty-five years he put his life on the line, and these bastards calmly shoot him in the back for nothing more than money. Any one of them deserved to die.”

Her eyes widened at the rage that had exploded in his voice. But it was his only weapon to combat the horror and guilt of taking another’s life. His stomach muscles tightened at the hint of fear that’d crept into her eyes, prompting him to take a deep, controlled breath.

“It was either him or me, but that doesn’t mean the end result bothers me any less.”

Two long strides carried him to the short stairway below deck. He hooked his right hand above the door and swung down into the cabin. He’d had enough of that conversation, and it was time he changed into something dry anyway. Thankfully, he kept clothes on the boat.

Trent unbuttoned his jeans just as the sound of the motor lowered to an idle. The boat rocked beneath his feet. Halli’s light footsteps sounded on the steps. He tensed, but kept his back turned, even when her soft touch on his shoulder made him flinch. Though he craved the reassurance of human contact more than anything, he shied away from showing any more weakness. It was bad enough she’d read his stuff in the notebook.

“I know how you feel,” she said quietly.

He shook his head no, not trusting his voice to come out strong enough.

“Maybe for only a few minutes, but I do know how awful it is to think you’ve ended someone’s life.”

Before he could form a response, she moved in front of him. Right up against him, slipping her arms around his waist, her soft cheek pressed to his chest. Her palms flattened on his back as her arms tightened and held.