Page 77 of The Italian Reckoning
“Shit,” Cormac breathes. “What are you thinking? That he stole your bike?”
“Maybe.” I run my hand back and forth through my hair. “She knew my bike, man. She knew me and if he turned up like that, I’ve no doubt she’d think it’s me and climb on. It’s the only way I can think she went with him because there were no signs of a struggle at her apartment. And she’s careful, she’s so fucking careful, but…”
“Not with you,” Cormac finishes.
I nod tightly. “Is this my fault? I made her lower her guard, I made her feel safe, and she might have just walked right back into his arms.”
“No,” Cormac replies grimly. “From everything you’ve told me, this guy is calculated. He knows what he wants and he’s clearly been watching her if he’s bold enough to call her. We’re not dealing with a gangster here.”
“And he has what he wants,” Domenico says quietly, his brow furrowed. “Which means he’ll be hiding.”
“Please!” I lean across the table and just refrain from grabbing Cormac’s hand. “I need your help. If anything happens to her I’ll never forgive myself. I’ve already let her down and this is just… please, I need your help. I have to find her because I?—”
I love her.
The thought whispers softly through my mind, and unbearable tension tightens across my chest.
“Of course.” Cormac leans forward and he does take my wrist. “Rocky, you saved my life. Anything you need, I’m here to help.”
“Thank you,” I gasp, and for the first time there’s a hot sting of tears behind my eyes. “Thank you.”
I love her.
And I’m losing her.
If he hurts her, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.
“So,” Cormac says firmly. “Where do we start?”
34
SARAH
Where are you, Sarah?
Where are you?
Do you know?
Something warm and wet presses against my throat right above my sluggish pulse and holds there long enough to rouse me from the thick, foggy darkness I find myself in. It’s like clawing through cotton trying to wake up, catching snippets of wakefulness in my mind and battling against the comforting darkness that tries to drag me back down.
It’s comfortable there.
Safe.
Where are you?
I don’t know.
I was with Rocky and we were driving through the city, then he pulled over because something was wrong with the bike.
My head hurts.
He climbed off and snapped at me to get off. Why was he so angry with me? It’s not like I broke his bike. Was it something to do with the wheel? Or the steering? I’m not sure. I can’t remember. But I climbed off and then… and then…
My headhurts.
The dampness against my throat shifts up to my chin and a shiver steals down my spine. The pressure of the dampness increases and a dull warning throbs through my mind. I have to open my eyes, but it’s so nice in the dark.
