Page 27 of The Italian Reckoning
There is a third option. Someone is trying to scare me off the case by sending shit to my address that they think will make me back off out of fear that I’ll be next. Following that strand wouldlikely get me to the killer faster and would bring me back to the original two choices.
Fuck.
My thoughts are going round and round with no end in sight. I can’t help Belle this way.
Draining my cold coffee, I leave some extra dollars on the table as a thank you to Bobby and head outside with my laptop shoved deep into my bag. I need to go home and get some sleep before this case consumes me.
Despite the heat of the sun during the day, May evenings are still chilly so I huddle into my coat as my phone blares to life. Brant’s name flashes on the screen and my heart drops. I took the longest, most obnoxious path known to man to try and get that arrest warrant in the hopes that it wouldn’t get back to my captain, but given how he’s now calling me at eight at night, I think that failed.
“Hello?”
“Sarah, what did I tell you? You’re like a dog with a bone. You just don’t know when to let things go.”
“Hardly. You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think there’s a reason you don’t want me investigating this case.”
“Are you trying to accuse me of something?”
“Not directly,” I mutter, glancing up and down the street as I cross. “But what happened to the good captain known for supporting his officers? A girl died, Brant. I’m not just going to walk away from this.”
“Did it ever cross your mind that I’m trying to look out for you, Sarah? Maybe I’m trying to stop you from ending up in the wrong crosshairs.”
“The hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You know who Belle is. Who she is related to. You know they deal with things internally.”
“So? They’re criminals, Brant. And you shouldn’t be bending to their whims. Or their money.”
“Choose your next words very carefully,” Brant warns, but despite the threat in his voice, it doesn’t faze me.
“Look, you can paint it as trying to look out for me, but we both know!”
A solid impact to my back sends my phone flying out of my hand as something hard and heavy knocks me clean off my feet while hot pain explodes through my ear. A yelp of surprise tears past my lips and I have just enough time to throw my hands out to protect my face before I hit the ground with a thump. All air is forced out of my lungs upon impact and for a long moment, I’m in a daze.
My head hurts, my heart races, and it feels like a tight, hot band is wrapping around my chest the longer I lie there. What feels like forever turns out to be only a few seconds when I register that someone is on top of me. Panic surges through me like rising vomit and I immediately begin to struggle. I kick my legs out, throw my elbows and head back, twist and turn andwrithewith every ounce of strength I have despite my lack of air.
“Hey!” calls a muffled voice from behind me, and my elbow collides with something solid.
“Get off!” I rasp. “Get off me! Get thefuckoff me!”
The weight rolls to the side and I gasp roughly, dragging air past my dry lips. As soon as I’m free, I shove myself upward and scramble back onto my feet just as another bullet whizzes past me. It narrowly misses me as the person beside me grabs my wrist and jerks me harshly to the left.
“Let go you, fucking—oh!”
I find myself staring up at my reflection in the shiny black visor of a motorcycle helmet. The person who tackled me is instantly recognizable as the biker who helped me when I wasmugged on my birthday. Seeing him shocks me into silence and his grip tightens on my wrist.
“Come with me.” His deep, slightly muffled voice makes my racing heart skip a beat and warmth flushes through me from head to toe.
I’m barely given time to respond as he drags me down an alley away from whoever is taking shots at me. He moves so quickly that I can barely keep up. My head is still swimming and an aching heat radiates from the side of my head while my chest still feels like something is tightly wrapping around it. We run together and burst out of the mouth of the alley where the stranger's bike is parked awkwardly on the sidewalk.
“Get on!” He barks out the command, and something inside me makes me obey without a second thought.
What the fuck is going on? Why is he here? And why the fuck is someone shooting at me?
Motorcycle guy slides onto the bike and half drags me on behind him, then he revs the engine the second my arms slide around his waist. My foot is barely off the ground when the bike screeches to life and we race off down the street going faster than any person should ever be able to travel.
Hold on, Sarah. Just hold on.
The world passes by too fast for me to register anything about where we’re going. My heart pounds like a drum, and when I tuck my head between the stranger's shoulder blades, pain throbs loudly in my ear. I tighten my grip and close my eyes, leaning into the man so that every shift of his body on each turn and weave through traffic is mirrored by my own body.
