Page 86 of Hard Lessons

Now sitting outside with a coffee and having a one-sided conversation with the ever present robin, she paused.

A low growl rumbled in the distance.

She set down her mug and turned to look over her shoulder. Everything looked the same—the rolling hills, patchwork fields dotted with sheep, the huge oak tree beside Luca’s car.

It was then she saw it. A motorbike with a lone figure stooped forward. It was hurtling her way.

“Fuck!” She jumped up and grabbed her mug.

Who the hell is it?

She dashed into the cottage and shut the door. Quickly, she rushed to the bedroom and took her bag from under the bed. She looked around, needing a better place to hide the money. This time there was no pasta and rice jars, the cupboards were poorly stocked.

The engine noise grew louder.

Knowing she was running out of time, Serena dashed into the living room. When she’d been cleaning the hearth she’d spotted a ledge at the base of the chimney opening.

It took a bit of twisting and shoving but she quickly had the bag nestled in the sooty hole.

Her arms were dusted black and she rubbed them clean.

When the engine switched off, her heart rate tripled. One of Giovanni’s men had come to get her. Well, he had another think coming. There was no way she was going back to London. She was waiting here for Luca, the way she’d promised.

She grabbed a log, a nice heavy one that didn’t have splinters at the end she wanted to grip, and stood with her back to the wall between the window and the door.

The crunch of heavy boots on gravel had her breaths coming in short pants and her muscles tensing. Whoever it was would soon be out cold. She’d bash him over the head and then tie him up. Luca would sort him out when he got back—whenever that was.

The door opened.

She cursed herself for not locking it.

A big guy stepped in, his wide shoulders hunched and his fists clenched. He clearly meant business.

Serena put all her strength into bringing the log down on his head. It wasn’t until after she started the downward momentum that she realized he was still wearing his safety helmet.

The log hit with a loud thud then bounced upward, jarring her arm and shoulder.

She dropped it and it banged to the floor.

“What the fuck?”

“Luca!”

He turned to her and slid up the visor. “Jesus Holy Mother of God, what the hell are you doing?” He gripped her forearms.

“I... I... I didn’t know who it was?” Her heart was pounding, relief pouring into her. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

“It’s me.”

“I see that now.”

He pulled his helmet off. “And for the record, you crazy woman, hitting someone on the head when it’s protected by a crash hat is pretty dumb.”

She pressed her hand over her mouth and giggled. “I know.”

He tossed the helmet to one side and dragged her close.

She gripped his jacket. “I’m sorry, did it hurt?”

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