The idiot—thank fuck!
As Savio grinds out a reply, each finger prod in Corelli’s chest takes him back a step, but it angers him too.
In the rearview mirror, a sharp blue light catches my eye. I can’t even tell you why I saw it, why it suddenly appears in my line of sight, but it’s there.
A bright, glittering presence that I can’t ignore.
I don’t even see Savio pull the dagger he said Corelli was renowned for carrying in a holster on his shoulder. Don’t see him shove his hand against the capo’s throat as he pushes him into the wall.
I just see the lights.
Plural.
There are many now.
Many.
Too many.
And they’re coming this way.
Had the guards called the cops on Savio? Somehow, I doubt it. But their presence has me tensing, because I know, without a shadow of a doubt, they’re coming to the bar.
Maybe they’ve cracked a case and found that Corelli’s at the center of it, maybe something implicated him in Gianni’s death, but even a lifetime in jail isn’t enough for Savio.
I’ve seen the desire to end Corelli throbbing inside him all day. It saddens me, to be honest. This is one stain that may have been avoided, but it’s too late now.
We’re here.
But I won’t lose Savio.
With the certainty that the cops are coming our way riding me, I leap out of the car. My body’s tired after so little sleep, because even though I could have rested today, I was on edge, knowing we were going to commit murder tonight.
A strange plan enters my head, and though it’s imperative I warn Savio, that I get him to act now, I know what I must do.
I checked out the restaurant on Google Maps today, so I know the layout. The alley Savio’s gone down has an open end, and I run around there, going faster than my body wants.
When I see Corelli is in the mouth of the alley by this point, I rush forward, and yell, “Now.”
Savio’s eyes glance at me, and Corelli takes that split second to leap for the knife.
It’s too late for him though. Savio slices his throat. The arterial spray is intense, it coats him, but he doesn’t even blink an eye.
Me?
I feel queasy.
This is different than last night.
This is black blood.
Tainted blood.
I don’t want it on him, even as I know what I must do. While Corelli clasps at his throat, I surge toward the man I love and grab the knife. Just as his eyes flash with surprise, and the lights and sirens make themselves known, I can hear the stirring of humanity from the bar, as if rats are leaving a sinking ship, and I thrust upward, just like I would if I was a man of similar height as Savio, and slice into my man’s belly before pulling the dagger free and tossing it on the ground.
Then, with the sight of his eyes loaded with betrayal, and as he staggers to his knees, I scream, somehow louder than the sirens, loud enough to draw attention our way, and I don’t stop.
Because no one has pipes like an angel.
Savio
I wake up in a hospital bed.
At first, I wonder what the hell happened, then it hits me.
I remember.
It isn’t the first time I’ve landed here, but it’s the first time there’s been someone sitting at my bedside.
She’s curled up like an angel, her hands propped under her chin as she sleeps like a child would. Innocent.
My brow puckers as I remember the events of last night—drawing Corelli out of his busy restaurant by calling him a murderer, where he dealt with me personally rather than having his guards handle me simply because I’m his priest.
Catholics...
So foolish.
I recall little else, save for snatching his dagger, then us being just in the mouth of the alley with brick walls on either side of us beyond the bar’s windows.
Like her wings carried her, Andrea appeared out of nowhere.
I sliced Corelli’s throat at her urging, then took a knife to the belly once Corelli lay sputtering on the ground.
My brow puckers at the memory of her screaming, of her drawing interest our way, and then I remember nothing, because I passed out.
With the blood loss from the evening before and then her stabbing me?
It’s no wonder I lost consciousness.
Even now, though I’m awake, I feel half asleep.
Why did she do that? Why would she—?
Her eyes pop open like she knew I stirred, and the love in them takes me aback. It’s hard to think, hard to even speak as I realize I’m pain free for a reason, but I distinctly remember those eyes on me as she stabbed me.
“You’re on a lot of codeine,” she whispers, her brows crumpling. “For your back too.”
My tongue feels thick, like a sponge in my mouth, and she shuffles in her seat once more, then drifts over to a nightstand.
The hospital room is plain, and by decor alone, I know I’m in a regular one, not a convent or a clinic that’s attached to the church. It’s not painted white with an uncomfortable bed, nor is there a crucifix gracing any of the walls.
That’s clue enough.
She pours me something that makes a clacking sound, and I tilt my head to see ice tumbling into a plastic cup.
When she places one in my mouth, the relief is instant. But the second the liquid soothes parched tissues, the second I can speak, the pain of betrayal far outweighs the pain in my body, and I whisper, “Why?”
She isn’t stupid. She knows what I mean.
“To protect you,” she answers simply, and she presses another piece of ice to my mouth like it’s a pacifier and she’s trying to keep me quiet. “All I do is for you.” Her smile is a delight to behold, but it’s painful too. “That should be a song. Wait, isn’t it one? Wasn’t that a Bryan Adams song? All for—” Her attention drifts. “No, that’s ‘All For Love.’” Her smile turns rueful. “Same difference, I suppose.” Then she lifts her hand, presses a finger to her lips, and like that, a knock sounds at the door.
How the fuck does she do that?
I flinch, but when she pulls it open, I see two carabinieri standing there.
“Ma’am, you’re still here?”
The policeman’s surprise is clear.
“He was attacked. To wake up alone is cruel,” she replies with a shrug.
“You speak good Italian,” the other praises, and I can see from the glint in his eye that he’s attracted to her.
I can’t blame him.
She’s sexy.
With her ruffled hair, which she hasn’t even bothered to gel, her angelic face, and a body made for sin, why wouldn’t any red-blooded man fall for her?
She bewilders me by being coy, tilting her chin to the side in a way that reminds me of the stupid games men and women play.
“Thank you. I’ve been studying a long time for this trip.”
“I’m just sorry you had to witness this on your first visit to Rome.” The first cop shakes his head, and I don’t know why I look, but I see his hand has a faint marking from where a wedding band once lay.
Great, more competition.
I almost roll my eyes at the thought.
She turns to look at me, and I see mischief on her face before she erases all expression and says, “I can’t believe that man did this to him.”