Page 62 of The Italian Reckoning
The floorboards creak again and my heart pounces up into my throat.
I’m alone.
I’msupposedto be alone.
Suddenly, a soft growl rumbles through Iris’s throat and she drops low to the floor as the floorboards creak once more, this time much closer to the kitchen door.
Shit!
I lunge for the counter and snatch up my handgun from where I’d tossed my badge and belt after coming home from work and aim it right at the door.
Where the fuck did I leave my phone?
Shit. It’s on charge in my bedroom.
Is it The Painter? Has he grown tired of playing games and decided it’s time we meet face to face?
Is it something else?
Iris’s growl rises to a screech and she darts off under the kitchen table. I tighten my grip on the handgun and, holding my breath, I ease slowly toward the door. Lowering my other hand, I grip the handle and brace myself, waiting.
The second the door starts to move, I wrench it open and aim my gun at the alarmed person on the other side. “Get on the fucking floor or I’ll shoot you!”
“Wait!”
“On the floor before I shoot you, motherfuck— Rocky?”
Rocky Barati cowers on his knees with both hands raised in the air, panting. “Sarah! Holy shit, it’s me!”
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
27
ROCKY
“Don’t shoot!”
“I should!” Sarah yells, standing over me with the handgun inches from my face. “What the fuck are you doing breaking into my apartment?”
“I needed to see you!”
“Then call!” she yells again. “Or use the fucking doorbell!” For a second, I’m certain she’s going to shoot me, and I don’t blame her. Sneaking out to see her after so long without any contact and then breaking into her apartment just so no one would know I’m here is pretty dumb even by my standards.
But I couldn’t wait any longer.
I had to see her. Part of my plan was just to look at her and leave, but I should have known Sarah wouldn’t have let something like that slide. She’s too on the ball. As she glares down at me, a streak of hissing fur suddenly bolts past me and skitters further into her apartment, then Sarah’s shoulders sag and she lowers her gun.
“You scared me.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It was stupid, I just…” Climbing to my feet, I immediately take her hand. “I had to see you. It’s been driving me insane not being able to.”
“Your arm.” Her eyes remain locked down on my arm freshly released from its cast not twenty-four hours ago. “I thought it was broken.”
“Six weeks is a long time,” I assure her. “And it was a clean break so it healed swiftly.”
“A clean break.” Sarah pulls her hand from mine and covers her mouth as she wheezes out a humorless laugh. “Your dad, he just… I can still hear it. When I close my eyes. And then I never heard from you so I thought…” Her swallow is audible. “I thought he’d done something to you, and I just…”
“I’m okay, Sarah.” Taking her hand again, I gently ease the pistol away from her fingers and set it down on the counter as we step deeper into the kitchen. “I stayed away to try and save your life, and I was doing such a good job, but then… I just couldn’t anymore, and I?—”
