Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
I give him my best baffled look. “With my girlfriend.”
He glances over my shoulder, taking stock of the apartment. “Here?” His gaze homes in on the clothes strewn over the floor.
“She worked late. I met her not far from here and walked her home.”
He scribbles down something in a notebook. “Can anyone vouch for that?”
“Ms. Simmons. She lives on the first floor. She walked with us after having a drink at the bar downstairs.”
He lifts his head and scrutinizes me. “What about before then?”
“I had dinner at a restaurant in Little Italy.” I give him the name, knowing Rusty will attest to the fact. He’s under our protection. We often dine in the private room at the back.
“What about your girlfriend?” the cop asks. “Can I speak to her?”
“Of course.” My tone drips with nuance. “We were already in bed, but I’ll get her for you.”
The cop grins as he shoots another look at clothes that form a trail through the lounge to the door on the opposite side. “Lucky you.”
Projecting my voice to the back, I call, “Anya.”
A moment later, she steps out of the bedroom, tying the belt of a silk robe around her waist. “What’s going on?”
Her voice falters on the last word, but it can be accounted to sleepiness.
“Come here, tesoro,” I say. “The officer would like to ask you a few questions.”
She walks compliantly to my side, allowing me to pull her under my arm.
After he asks her the same questions, he writes down our names and telephone numbers.
“If I may ask,” I start, waiting until the officer looks up. “What’s going on?”
“Homicide,” he says, directing his attention back to his notebook.
Anya utters something that sounds like a strangled gasp.
“That’s shocking.” I rub Anya’s arm, the caress both soothing and reprimanding. “Is it someone from the neighborhood?”
“We haven’t identified the body yet,” the officer says in a neutral tone.
“I hope you get the culprit.” I smile. “We like our neighborhood safe.”
He hands me a business card with an instruction to call him if we remember anything that may be important, and then he leaves.
The minute I’ve locked the door, Anya pushes away from me.
“That’s what you wanted?” She spits the words at me. “An alibi?”
“Naturally.”
She backtracks to the bar. “You son of a bitch. You made me an accomplice.”
I raise a brow. “Did you prefer I killed you?”
“Very clever.” She sounds on the verge of hysteria. “Now I can’t talk because I’m guilty too.”
Closing the distance, I say in a dangerously calm voice, “Telling me you were planning on talking is not very intelligent, tesoro. I didn’t take you for an unwise woman.”
She utters a laugh. “Do you prefer that I lie? Oh, wait. Yes. But only about having been with you.”
Now that the immediate danger is over, she’s losing her shit. She knows I’m not bluffing about not killing her. If I wanted her dead, she would’ve been so already. She’s bright enough to understand that. She knows as well as I do ten people saw us in that street. Yeah, I counted even as I kissed her six ways from Sunday while shoving my tongue down her throat to strangle her scream. That’s not taking Livy into account. If I kill Anya, I’d have to eliminate eleven people.
I don’t know Anya, but I sense the breakdown that’s coming. It’s the shock.
I keep her in my line of vision, ready to bolt and catch her if I have to as I go around the bar. “You need a drink.”
She doesn’t keep much on the open shelf under the counter. The bottle of cooking wine will have to do. I pour two glasses and carry them to her.
Offering her one, I instruct, “Drink.”
She doesn’t reach for the glass. From the meagre contents of her bar, I get the impression she’s not a big drinker, but this is non-negotiable.
“Drink.” I hold out the glass. “It’ll make you sleep better. I promise.”
She turns her face away. “I can’t.”
“Come on.” I tease her with a whiff, lifting the glass to her nose. “It wasn’t a request.”
She looks at me again, licking her lips as if her mouth is too dry to swallow when relief is within her grasp.
“I can’t,” she says again.
Fine. I’ll play her game. I lower the glass. “Why not?”
She hesitates, looking almost frightened before saying, “I’m pregnant.”
CHAPTER
THREE
Anya
Saverio looks at my belly. Without a word, he goes to the bar and puts the glasses on the counter. A tremor runs through my body as he returns, stepping right up to me. I have no idea what to expect from this unpredictable man.
When he reaches out, I wrap my arms around my stomach in reflex, but he takes my wrists and places them at my sides before untying the belt of my robe and brushing the ends away to expose my lower body.