Page 212 of The Wicked

Page List

Font Size:

“No, can’t do that,” I blurted. “There’s no staying overnight in this arrangement.”

He frowned like he didn’t like what I just said. “We don’t have to do anything.”

I forced out a laugh, giving him a wary stare. “What, you want me to stay back so we can…cuddle?” Atcuddle, I made an irritated expression, anything to show him we weren’t there and would never be there.

He didn’t respond.

“Pfft, get real, Elio. That’s never going to happen.”

He shifted like he was uncomfortable. “I don’t know where your mind traveled to, but no. I recall the other day in Turin, you mentioned this TV show about a morning star, and I—” He stopped abruptly, and it seemed he was looking for ways to frame his words. “I have a cinema room. We could watch it since, well, most of my knowledge about TV shows is from before I went to the army and you seem more, more… up to date in that area.”

I blinked, completely frozen, while I watched him, my stomach flipping. Unannounced. I wouldn’t have been able to stop the way my heartbeat had increased because it seemed as though this man… Elio Marino… The Wicked… incapable of feelings, who never smiled, never had a girlfriend, didn’t often have sex, a psycho killer, wanted to spend time… with me.

Even if I succumbed, accepting that he wanted to spend time with me, there was still the fact that, for some reason, I wanted to spend time with him too. I bought the idea.

Why the fuck am I buying the idea?

Backtrack, Zahra, backtrack.

I gathered the bowl, his fork, and my fork. “Right… that sounds cool, but I’m gonna have to pass. I might doze off, and Idon’t want to have to answer questions from Street about why I’m coming from the front door and not my bedroom, so…”

“Okay,” he stated.

“Yeah… but you can totally go and watch it alone—”

“I’ll read.”

I nodded. “Cool.”

“Hm.”

“See you in the morning or… whenever.”

“Okay.”

I gave another awkward nod and then turned on my heel. I could still feel his eyes on me, but I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.

If I did, I might succumb and stay.

And that was an action I couldn’t and shouldn’t take.

I was probably making a mistake not informing Angelo’s people of this new development. Still, I needed to see it for myself, find the original painting first, and be one step ahead before letting their people in on the intel. This might sever any trust we had so far formed with them, but we worked better without supervision, and this was the first legit lead we’d gotten in months; we couldn’t risk sharing that intel with people who might be careless with it.

It was why we were staking out a school close to the sock company, Dog looking through binoculars as we waited for the guards to change shifts again.

Devil and I remained in the back seat of the SUV we had taken out while Dog and Chika were in the front seat.

We’d waited a week to head out, dishing out a perfect excuse for our movement; it was a bonus that we’d garnered a little bit of freedom working for, no—with—Elio, through Angelo’s supervision and team.

Milk and Upper had stayed back, but they were in our ears and also had eyes on us, thanks to the direct link Upper had created from the surveillance cameras around this area and the whole district back to our quarters in the Marino compound.

We had a solid plan to infiltrate the building. It was late inthe afternoon, schools were very close to ending for the day, and I silently prayed that they changed shifts again when all the students had gone home from school. Although we had tried to master their shift change, it didn’t have any order, so it was difficult to predict a set time frame.

It was not a big, structured building, it was just a small company that produced socks—the perfect front for the paintings being shipped.

Apparently, Arturo’s great-grandfather had attended this school by the side of the sock building when he was little; no one knew this because, according to Chika, Arturo’s great-grandfather hadn’t spent more than three weeks in the institution.

I squared my shoulders, looking to my side to find Devil’s quiet gaze on the weapon he held. I bumped my shoulder into him, and he looked my way.