Page 12 of Burn this City

“I don’t think it’ll work that way, but thanks.”

They both lapsed into silence, and he found he was suddenly grasping for the last of his reserves. This had been the plan. Wave money, use his charms, deceive, lie and coerce if necessary. But that took energy and focus he felt himself desperately short of. He needed to think quickly, snatch victory from the jaws of defeat and convince her. But he knew deep down he couldn’t inflict that on either of them. She deserved better.

She checked her phone screen. “I need to get home, but …”

“You could stay here. It’s a long drive.”

“Oh no, I really need my own bed.” Spoken in a bit of a rush, but maybe it was better that she left. “But thanks.”

“Sure.” He trailed behind her to the door. “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry this got weird.”

She placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t be. I bet you thought about it. It’s not that I don’t care about your situation. It’s just … I can’t. You know? I didn’t … get through all that to give everything away again. My freedom. My own decisions.” She bit her lower lip. “Do you understand that?”

“I do.” He unlocked the door and opened it for her. “I won’t mention it again.”

“I can explain this better when I’ve slept. I’ll call you, okay? Tomorrow?”

“Sounds good. Drive safely. I’ll open the gates for you.”

She nodded and put on a brave smile. The slightly tenseno hard feelings, okay?smile he knew from her.

Hard to tell whether she rushed down the path or that was her normal speed, but he didn’t want to think too much about it. He wasn’t sure she would call tomorrow. She might have decided he was a creep after all and she wanted nothing to do with him, because he was like all other men, and she’d had a lifetime of grief from men in general.

Maybe they’ll stop pressuring you to marry and give you more time to find the right one.

It took him several heartbeats to realize she hadn’t specified a gender.

But she was already in the car and heading down the gravel road, so it wasn’t like he could ask her whether she’d meant what he thought she’d meant. Maybe he should have come clean, state upfront what the problem was, but if he crossed that line, it would be easier to cross the others. He could ignore a few of them with a wife, slowly, gently, carefully, teaching her the unwritten laws and what issues and events she’d better ignore for everybody’s safety. But with an outsider—impossible.

6

“Look at that.” Enzo handed over the binoculars, a sharp grin forming on his features.

Sal focused on the side of the house where Barsanti stood in the open door, gazing after the girl who’d arrived about an hour earlier and now seemed in a bigger rush to get back to her car than she’d been to meet him.

“That doesn’t look like a booty call,” Sal murmured. And it had started so nice with the wine and a steaming lasagna from the oven. The only thing missing in the picture had been roses or a box with some expensive black lacey nothings that they’d try out in the bedroom together.

“Yeah, I’m disappointed.” Enzo chuckled. “Wouldn’t have minded watching them fuck.”

Sal scoffed. “What did you want to see? Him on top? Her riding him?”

“Not partial. Either way.”

Sal wasn’t surprised. Enzo was a kind of “anything goes” guy, probably the most open mind man Sal had ever encountered, though apparently he preferred couples over one guy relieving some stress. Figured.

Barsanti’s late-night guest had now made it to the gate. The car stopped there.

Sal handed the binoculars back to Enzo, who stashed them. Both of them pushed up from their prone positions and moved sideways to the house through the copse of trees. They’d been about to strike when it had become clear that Barsanti was expecting a guest. His preparations—two wine glasses, two plates—had stayed their hands, though Sal had decided to leave the truck and do some more old-fashioned surveillance up close.

There were a few large trees at the back and to the sides of the house, but much less protection at the front. The lawn was broken only by the path to the house and had a few bushes and rocks, but none large enough to give cover to a tall guy like Enzo.

Or Sal. Those decorative boulders and carefully trimmed boxwood bushes were more traps than cover.

“Look, here he comes.” Enzo nodded toward the gravel path, where Barsanti was now coming down at a half-run, pocketing his phone on the way.

Could he have left the door open? The night visitor had thrown the original plan into disarray, but this would work fine too. Lucky Enzo was handy with electronics. “You get in the house. Door might be open. If I don’t make the grab and bag, get ready to do it when he comes back in.”

“Yep.” Enzo gave him another grin and a nod.

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