Page 63 of Stalk

“Really? In a rental?”

Marco walks toward the door and holds it open. “You know your Zìa,mio amico.She has her ways.”

We follow Marco outside with our luggage. Cannella yaps happily as I lead her to the car by her leash, totally unaware of the danger we are more than likely about to willingly walk into.

“Who is Zìa?” Ren whispers to me.

Her face flashes in my mind. That smirk and her perfectly manicured nails. “Oh, you will find out soon enough. One battle at a time, Ren.”

CHAPTER 25

Ren

It’s only a ten minute drive to my place at this time of night, but those ten minutes are filled with anxiety and trepidation.

Mattia sits in the back seat with me, weapons strewn across his lap like additional appendages. I have an assault rifle in between my legs and a smaller handgun beside me in the seat. Cannella, not willing to leave Mattia’s side, pants happily in between us. It’s amusing how soft Mattia can be when it comes to his little rat dog.

“What all must we grab?” Mattia asks after a period of silence.

I consider everything Cleo and I found, then realize I’m fleeing to another country without saying goodbye to my best friend, and my stomach clenches. I have no choice, though. I’ll have to find a way to contact her once we make it to Italy.Ifwe make it to Italy. “The laptop, the journals, and the box of files should be all.”

“Where are they located?”

“The journals are in my bedroom. I’d also like to get her journal, which is in the drawer of my nightstand, but that’s not a huge priority. The rest is in the basement.”

Mattia nods as he pets Cannella. “We will get all that you want. Can we get everything we need in one trip?”

“Yeah. As long as we throw the journals in a bag. I have a duffel bag in my bedroom closet that should work.” My heart beats fast, like a hummingbird’s. “What if?—”

Mattia hushes me, and it makes me want to slap him a little. Some things won’t change, whether we’ve been intimate or not, I guess. “No ‘what-ifs,’ Ren. We cannot prepare for hypothetical situations right now. We are already unprepared. We have guns. If we come across any of Catherine’s people, we shoot. If we are being followed, we shoot. If we are shot at, we shoot.”

I stare at him blankly. “I am a bit out of practice using guns,” I admit. Most of my gun usage ended the second I was done training with Catherine. Since then, I’ve primarily done one shot here, one shot there.

He turns to me with a tight smile that seems forced. “They’re easy. Point. Shoot.”

Mattia would never admit it to me, but I can tell by how direct he’s being that he feels worried about this, too.

To calm my nerves, I pet Cannella and caress Mattia’s hand with my fingertips, and focus on the time we spent together before we had to spring into escape mode. Before tonight, my total experience has been kissing and light groping in college. I’ve always known I was gay, and luckily, I never had to hide that from my mother. I’d tried dating men in the past, but it never worked out—maybe they weren’t the right kind of man for me—I don’t know. Either way, I’m glad Mattia was my first. I pray I made him feel as good as he made me feel, because he made me feel alive for the first time in far too long. It’s as though I can see color again after being drenched in dark gray and midnight black for the past several years.

Before I know it, the SUV pulls up to the side of my house.

“I will stay here,” Marco says from the front seat. “Be quick and listen out for any shots.”

“Be safe, Marco,” Mattia says. He picks up Cannella, gives her a kiss on top of her tiny head, then passes her to Marco up front. Then, he looks at me. “Ready?”

I shake my head.

“Too bad,” he says with a wink.Cocky asshole.“Let’s go.”

We get out of the car in unison. I throw the rifle across my back by its sling and keep a firm grip on the pistol in my dominant hand. Mattia, who’s obviously much more comfortable with guns than I am, has a gun strapped to each wrist, a rifle on his back, and more hidden underneath his clothes.

If we weren’t in mortal danger, I think I’d be drooling. He looks immaculate as always, but the confidence that radiates off of him as we make our way inside my home, and into a possible death trap, is really quite attractive.

I unlock the front door quietly, then step to the side so Mattia can lead the way in. It’s dark, with only a small lamp letting off light in my small foyer. Just how I left it.

“Let’s clear the downstairs before we get the journals,” Mattia instructs in a whisper.

I nod. Mattia goes right, into the formal dining room that I never use, and I go left, into the living room. With my pistol raised and the safety off, I scope out the living room. With each step I take, my heart pounds faster. Thankfully, everything is in place and I don’t run into any unwanted company.

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