Page 30 of Sinner's Vows

Instead, I’m going to go back to Italy—by some means or another—and ruin their lives from afar…unless I choose to turn a blind eye to everything I’ve seen.

“Come back tomorrow,” I say softly in Italian. “We have time?”

“Of course,” Gigi says and shoots Tasha a small smile. “They’re taking Carla for an ultrasound to check in on the baby at a hospital not far from here. We literally came at the worst time to visit because she asked if we could both go with her.”

“Now?” Tasha asks.

“Yes. The appointment is in an hour, and there’ll be forms to fill in and so on.”

“Okay.” Tasha reaches for my arm and gives me a warm squeeze. “I’m sorry we have to go, but we’ll definitely see you tomorrow. In the meantime, if you need anything…we’ll bring some clothes and so on. Make a list?”

“I’m fine for now, thank you.” Inwardly, I curse because if only I had something to wear now, my escape plan would be halfway there.

They leave the room, and in the commotion of everybody getting Carla ready for her appointment, I slip out of bed, reach for the fire extinguisher, and quietly unhook it from its wall mount. I pull out the pin so it’s ready for action and place it on the floor, out of sight.

When the nurse pushes Carla out of the house in a wheelchair, it dawns on me I’m alone with the bodyguard and my moment has come.

16

ARIANA

It’s quiet. Eerily quiet now I’m alone in this clinic. Every now and then, the bodyguard shifts in his seat, and it creaks. It’s hardly noticeable, but I’m on high alert, and every sound is amplified. When the man stands, stretches, and peers into my room, I’m feigning sleep again.

His footsteps fall softly on the floor. Eight. Eight footfalls. Hushed clanging sounds come from the kitchen, a packet ripping. I clamber out of bed, rush to reach the fire extinguisher, carefully peek out into the corridor, and take in the layout of the house in one glance. A small foyer, several doors leading to more rooms. The sounds are definitely coming from the door in the middle: the kitchen.

My lucky break.

He’ll walk out of there and won’t see I’m not in bed, and with the layout as it is, I can hide in the one door and whack him as he exits the kitchen.

In seconds, I have stolen over to my hiding place, so quiet, the only way he’d know I was there would be in the movement of air. I haven’t been trained for nothing, and I’m barefoot. Adrenaline rushes through my veins. I’m pumped.

I wait, my heart in my throat, for him to finish making his coffee. Soon the earthy smell reaches me, and I swallow down my thirst.

What an idiot. If this whack over the head doesn’t kill him, he might be dead for letting me escape. It’s not a done deal yet, but failing isn’t an option. This is my first step back towards my team and the job I set out to do and plan to finish. Fuck Franco being dead, and fuck Randazzo being dead. When it comes to slime, the world keeps on producing. Someone else will step into those men’s shoes, and my team is waiting. Wewillget it done.

With this pep talk running on repeat in my head, I get in position, raising my hands, clutching the fire extinguisher.

I home in on his footsteps as he walks past, stirring his coffee, a cookie shoved in his mouth.

Sorry, my friend, it’s you or me.

With my whole measly weight and all my muscle power, I bring the extinguisher down on his head. But here’s the problem. It’s more to the back of his skull because this guy is motherfucker tall and moved around like a freaking fairy.

“Good God,” I huff as he sinks to one knee in surprise, the mug slipping from his hand and crashing to the floor, splattering creamy coffee far and wide. He isn’t out yet.

I up my swing again, knowing I’m not getting a third chance as he is already reaching for his gun. But this time, he is at a better whack-level, and I don’t hold back. I bring down the extinguisher full on his head with a satisfying crack that makes him crumble to the floor like the cookie he spluttered from his mouth.

For a split second, I stare at him, horrified at my own brutality but also knowing I had no choice. I can’t tell if he’s dead, and I’m not going to wait to find out. If I really cracked his skull, the nurse will know what to do with him. He’s already at their clinic, so in a way, I’ve done him a favor.

I curse. He’s fallen onto his side, right on top of his gun. There’s no chance I can get it out now. I’d rather use what strength I have to get out of here. For a second, I consider his phone. It will come with a tracking device, and the last thing I want is someone finding me. I need to go. Already, my body reprimands me, whispering how this whole maneuver wasn’t the best idea. It has stretched the stitches to my wound that hasn’t healed yet.

Now I rush, going around the place, frantically looking for something to wear that isn’t a hospital gown with my naked butt for all to see. I don’t need anybody to conclude with one look that I’ve just escaped an asylum.

But there’s nothing—not even an extra nurse’s uniform. I don’t have time to waste.

I’ll need to steal some clothes. From next door. From the neighbor with the pretty vegetable garden. I head back to the kitchen. Its windows look out over the street and not the way to go if I want to be surreptitious. I hasten to the garage which I open with a remote by the door. Really? These people need to up their in-house security. Naturally, this clinic is only for their own people, who have no motive to run, but this…thisis too easy.

With a huff and a deep breath, I peer out into the street. The service road is empty. Farther along, there are some cars parked, but no humans, no rodents, and no Mafia in sight.

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