Page 158 of Dagger in the Sea

“Mr. Guardino told my uncle to expect you,” Luca said. “And as an apology for his son’s rudeness and as a bond for their future business together, he offered your life. Very old school of him, eh? I liked that.” A sharp smirk curled his lips. “It’s perfect timing.” He raised the gun again. “I’ll blame it on the kidnappers.”

Dizziness whirled through my brain. I blinked and blinked, willing the world to stay focused. Willing Luca and his fucking gun to remain clear.

Thick wetness filled my hands, seeping through the fabric of my white linen shirt. Not pink this time, but scarlet red. Crimson. My favorite fucking shirt. My shirt…

“It’s wrinkled now.”

“This is Greece in the summer. No one cares.”

No one cares.

No one cares.

“I hope you die alone, you bastard, because that’s what you deserve,”Ciara’s voice taunted.

I gulped in air. “Don’t do this, Luca—” My eyes strained to stay on Luca in the sun, my vision blurry in its glare.

“Tell me,Arturo. Why does Guardino want you dead? What the hell did you do? Not curtsy properly? Criticize his haircut? His wife? Fuck his daughter?”

“It’s a long, long sordid story. I could tell you sometime over a glass of Anisette.”

“I like sordid. I hate Anisette.”

“I thought you liked old school?” I smacked back.

He came closer, jaw set. “Tell me now. Tell me everything. I want to know.”

“Why?”

“Your reputation is spotless. You get the job done, no matter what it is. Your work is very clean. You are an asset. So I want to know why he would send you all the way here only to have you killed? Why not in his own backyard? What did you do?”

My throat prickled with dry dirt and dust. “I’m his bastard son.”

I told him about me and my father.

Luca’s face darkened, an eyebrow flared. “So you have a—how do you say—attitude?”

“Yes, I do.” I shifted my weight, pain ripping through me like a shearing knife. “Getting your uncle to come back to their table was supposed to be my good deed in return for a favor.”

“You worked hard for Guardino, but remained the peasant, the soldier,” he said.

I blinked, sucked in air. The taste of blood seeped through my mouth. The flavor of my mortality. “Yes.”

“Listen carefully.” His tone was grim and steady. He had my attention. I raised my straining eyes to his.

“I shot you,” Luca said. “I tried to kill you. I told you he wants you dead. Your life flashed before your eyes. All true?”

“All true,” I gritted out.

“You can’t go back to Chicago.” He stalked toward me.

My lungs heaved, a wheezing sound erupting from my chest. “You own me now?”

Luca pressed the gun against my forehead. The cool hardness of the metal shimmered over my skin. “Yes.”

“Why?” I snarled at him, snarled at destiny. I pressed my forehead against the gun, pushing against Luca. “Because I’m a useful tool?” Valerio’s words bristled on my tongue, hung in the dusty hot air between us. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

Luca’s eyes gleamed in the hard glare of the sun. “Because you know deep in that black heart of yours, a heart as black as mine, that I’m telling you the truth.” He fisted my shirt with his free hand. “I made Alessio stay in Athens longer than he wanted so you could find us and I could be done with you and we could get on with our holiday. But then Adri got shot at and you saved her. You being hired as her security and coming to the island with us was good for me—I needed you for my meeting with Berezin.”

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