Page 124 of Broken Honor

“Boss,” he says.

“Call it off.”

He doesn’t respond.

“The search,” I say. “The diamonds. Call it off. All of it.”

Still nothing.

I grip the phone tighter. “Do you hear me?”

Bugatti breathes into the line. His tone changes—lighter now. “Well,” he says, “who would’ve thought. I said you had too much nerve to fall for this. But I stand corrected.”

“What?”

Then the line clicks. Dead. I stare at the screen. The call ended.

I call him again. The line is busy. Again. Still busy.

Then the door to the study slams open behind me. And almost immediately I know something is up. I turn just in time to see Riccardo storm in. His eyes are wild, mouth twisted in disgust.

“You fucking idiot,” he spits.

There’s no time to react. A club swings through the air and connects with the side of my head.

The force knocks me sideways. My shoulder hits the edge of the desk, then I crash to the floor. The rug cushions part of the fall. Pain sears up the side of my skull. Blood starts to trickle down my face. I try to push myself up, but the room spins. My balance slips.

Riccardo stands over me, gripping the metal club in one hand, his chest rising and falling.

Then my vision blurs. And everything goes black.

Chapter Twenty-Four – Lunetta

I pace the length of the room again.

The floor is oddly cold beneath my bare feet. I press my fingers together, then release them, then repeat the motion without realizing.

Something feels wrong. I sit on the edge of the bed.

I lift my wrist, half-expecting to feel the beads there. The rosary. My thumb brushes my skin, as if I might have missed it. But I didn’t. I remember exactly when he took it—his fingers slipping it from me before pressing his mouth to my neck.

I stand and walk toward the door. My hand hovers just above the knob.

Do I knock? Ask for it back?

Or maybe I should wait.

Before I can decide, the door creaks open.

I take a step back.

It isn’t Vieri.

Riccardo enters, chest rising and falling unevenly. His eyes are bloodshot. In one hand, he holds a short club streaked with something dark. In the other, a gun—raised and steady.

I freeze.

We stare at each other.

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