36
“Amara, this is about your safety.”
The elevator was taking its sweet fucking time to reach my floor. Not that it would matter since Santino hadn’t let up since his phone call from Blaise. The entire four-hour flight was spent arguing about my staying with him versus my apartment. One or two nights was one thing, but indefinitely? No.
I wasn’t ready to take that step yet, especially since it involved the notion that I’d be safer .
I’d been a helpless victim once, and I vowed never to be that woman again.
“How many ways do you need to hear me say I’m staying?”
“You’re being stubborn, preziosa . Three of our dancers are dead. This isn’t some coincidence.” Santino dropped my suitcase and circled my waist, caging me into a corner. “If something were to happen to you…I can’t have that.”
I clutched his collar. “I understand. I do. But—”
“Please don’t give me that bullshit that you can take care of yourself.”
My face pinched into a grimace. “I can. I have!”
“You’re not bulletproof, Amara.” He gently held my face. “I know this is retaliation, but I can take anything. Fuck that business. Nothing matters to me except you. And the only way they can hurt me, destroy me is through you. But I would die before I'd let anything happen to you.”
This moment wasn’t the time for butterflies or the simmering heat that came with his sweet words and gestures, but even when I was aggravated, this man still affected me. Which only served to fuel my resolve.
“Hiding is not the solution.”
“You’ve been hiding for years.”
That was a low blow. He had a point, but throwing it in my face still stung.
I take back the goddamn butterflies.
Pushing out of his arms, I grabbed my suitcase as the doors finally split open.
Santino pounded his fist on the railing. “Damn it, Amara.”
“Is there a problem?”
Detective Braga had a knack for constantly popping up at the worst time. His arm shot out, preventing the doors from closing as he eyed us suspiciously.
“Everything is fine.” Santino’s voice was razor sharp. He intended to retrieve my suitcase and exit the elevator, but I snatched it back.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night, Santino,” I said with finality, turning around and meeting the betrayal in his eyes. Call it pride or fear, but I needed time to think, even if that meant hurting him a little tonight—even if it hurt me just as much.
“Amara, please.” His frustration was palpable. And he moved in closer, still refusing to release the handle.
“I believe she’s calling it a night, Mr. Leone.”
Santino steeled his shoulders, intent on charging the detective, but I stood between them and cradled his cheeks .
“Santi, give me tonight to think it over. That’s all I’m asking. I promise.” His eyes hardened as they bounced between me and Raymond. “Just tonight.”
Santino sighed and curled his fingers around my shirt, dragging me into his arms. “You call me if anything. Do you hear me?”
Conscious of the detective still watching, I pressed my lips to his and smiled. “You too. It’s not just about me.”
With one last kiss to the forehead, he stepped to the middle of the elevator and pinned Braga with a cold glare as the doors slid closed.
“Amara, is everything all right? I spent all of last night and into the early morning at the scene about a block from Illusion. Two more women from your club have been murdered.”
“I heard,” I said, continuing toward my unit. “Look, it’s unfortunate what happened, but I just got into town and am exhausted. And—”
“Where did you and Mr. Leone fly off to, if I may ask?”
“Frankly, with respect, I don’t think that’s any of your business.” I set my handle down and fumbled through my bag for my key.
“And I respectfully disagree.”
I froze, waiting for the other half of that sentence to drop.
“I informed Mr. Leone that I needed him to remain close for further questioning.”
“We answered all your questions. There’s nothing more to discuss.”
“Three more of his employees died, so again, I disagree.”
I twisted the knob and cracked the door open, officially reaching the limit of my patience.
“And curiously, one of my colleagues from Philadelphia informed me of a murder very similar to the one that occurred here a few weeks back. Strange.”
Again, he’d caught me off guard, and my heart stuttered to a stop, but I couldn’t feed his suspicion. Whatever he had to say shouldn’t affect me, and I needed to get my shit together and show him as much. Serial killers were consistent, leaving distinctive signatures behind. I’d always managed to cover my tracks so that the only thing my victims had in common were their cocks and their vile addictions to sexual violence. Details that weren’t always uncovered during the investigation into their deaths, especially with Miami’s high murder rate and overworked police force. But I’d slipped, letting my emotions overtake logic, and carved the exact phrase on each of their bodies.
Death is mercy.
My pulse quickened when I turned to face his scrutiny. And his graying eyebrows twitched, reading my every reaction. However, it would be a reach for him to accuse me of murder across state lines without sufficient evidence or cause. I’m just his neighbor—the girl who’d saved his son.
“Listen, like I said, I’m exhausted. And as tragic as that is, it has nothing to do with me. Seems like confidential police business.”
The air between us shifted suddenly, paranoia and suspicion taking the reins. He was no longer just a nosy neighbor; Detective Braga was dangerous. Somehow, he knew and suspected things he shouldn’t. We stared each other down, waiting for the other to say something or make a move.
“ Papai !” Thiago’s small voice echoed in the corridor as he bolted through the door toward his father, an older woman chasing behind him. “ Papai, papai !”
Raymond caught his boy mid-air and twisted him away from me. The gesture sparked anger to burn red hot in my chest. Did he really think I’d be capable of hurting a child? Had I wanted to harm his kid, I would have done so when I found him wandering the floor alone in the middle of the night.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Braga. Thiago said he heard you, and next thing I know, he’s pulling a chair and opening the door.”
Raymond waved off his babysitter. “It’s fine. I was just headed inside.” Holding my stare, the detective gritted his teeth. “Have a good night, Amara.”
This presented a new threat, possibly more problematic than Luca. But he wouldn’t shake me. “Maybe you should secure your door a little better.”
I pushed inside my apartment and locked the door, leaning against its surface. Santino had been right. The best thing to do was lay low and not get caught with my ass out.
“Shit!”
I startled and jerked, slamming my back on the wall when I felt a brush of fur on my leg. Relief washed over me when I realized it was just Phoenix…
Phoenix?
Adrenaline pulsed through me as I tried to understand why my cat was in my apartment and not with Cambri.
“Phoenix, what the hell are you doing here?” I frantically scanned the room and flipped the light switch.
Darkness.
I kept flipping as if that would trigger the electricity to come on magically.
“It won’t work.”
Every ounce of breath left my body when I processed the intrusive male voice.
Fucking Luca.
“I suggest you keep still and consider what you reach for, or I’ll put a hole through that pretty face.”
He stepped out of the shadows, the barrel of a suppressor aimed at me.
I blinked rapidly in disbelief that he was in my house, threatening my life. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Well, imagine my disappointment when I discovered you flew out of town with my cousin, and I didn’t get an invite. That’s foul, Amara, considering I introduced you.”
If Luca were smart, he’d keep his distance, but I knew him well. And I was banking on his stupidity and ego to bring him closer and get him killed.
Phoenix circled my legs, and in an instant, I came to a horrifying conclusion.
“Where is Cambri?”
Luca laughed outright and leaned against the back of my couch.
“There it is. Asking the important questions.”
“If you hurt her…”
“Cambri and I go way back. I wouldn’t hurt her…yet. But how else will I get you to comply if there’s no bargaining chip?”
His words brought me no comfort. Luca couldn’t be trusted, because if Cambri were okay, she would have alerted me. He was holding her somewhere, and I wasn’t dumb enough to believe he’d just let her go. With a hand hovering over my blade, I challenged him.
“You’re pushing your luck,” he said as his aim steadied.
“Why are you doing this? You and I have never had any issues in the past.”
“Correct—until you co-signed my cousin kicking me out of my own goddamn establishment. Santino humiliated me in front of some of my most affluent customers.” He shuffled toward me. “And I didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that he’d set his interest on you.” Luca’s face twisted in disgust. “A fucking stripper.”
He was dead.
The pop of a bullet filled the air in the exact second I launched my knife at his face. I ducked, expecting more gunfire, but the room was silent, apart from Luca’s low gurgling and shallow pants.
I crawled toward him, guided by the faint light of a nearby outlet and a growing puddle of blood below the knife protruding from the side of his throat.
“Where is she?”
Blood sprayed my face when he purposely spit and grabbed for my neck but fisted a handful of hair instead. “Fuck…y-you.”
I pried open his fingers. “Tell me what you did with Cambri, or I’ll cut off your dick.”
Laughter bubbled from his reddened mouth, pushing more liquid out of his neck. “He knows… ”
Despite being at death’s door, this bastard was playing games. I pounded his chest, and his body jerked inward.
“Who?”
Bloody gurgles muffled his words, but he kept attempting to speak until one word became shockingly clear.
“A-Athena.”
The last syllable was whispered on the breath of a death rattle. I fell on my ass, my eyes wide and unfocused as I processed the name I hadn’t heard spoken out loud in years.
No.
She’s dead. Athena is dead.
“ How do you know that?” I crawled toward a lifeless Luca and pounded on his chest. “Who told you?” His face twisted against my backhanded slap. “Tell me!” I cried as I throttled his limp body by the shoulders, head crashing against the hardwood.
Over and over until it was all red.
Everything was red.
Tears filled my eyes, distorting the mangled man in front of me. I hung my head against his still chest and cried, gripping his soaked shirt as emotions ravaged my heart.
Luca had no way of knowing who I was unless he’d been in contact with someone from my past. I patted his front pockets, looking for his cell phone, then flipped him over but came up empty.
“We need to get out of here, Phoenix.” My breath was caught in my throat. “I need Santino.”
Staggering to my feet, I ran to the bathroom and ripped off my shirt, tossing it under the cold spray and wiping down my arms. Pink tinged the sink and splashed against the vanity and mirror. But I kept scrubbing until the water ran clear.
The mirror called to me, taunting me to look, to catch a glimpse of her. I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut.
“No. Pull it together.”
I bolted out the door, threw on a sweater, and scooped up Phoenix. The hallway was quiet. Vacant.
Good.
I sprinted past Detective Braga’s door, hoping against hope he hadn’t heard the chaos from my unit. I half-expected him to pop his head out and catch me with blood still caked in my hair. There would be no escaping his accusations then, and I’d be left with only one option. It was one thing to dispose of predators, men who didn’t deserve the air they breathed, but another to kill an innocent. How could I condemn his little boy to a life without his father when he’d already lost his mom? I’d been left alone in the world, and if my story was anything to go by…I’d be no better than Ronan.
Ronan.
Could he be Luca’s contact?
The stairwell was dimly lit, and I raced down each flight. Pulling my hoodie over my face, I reached the lobby and quickly spilled into the parking garage.
Just a few more steps.
Relief rushed over me when my car came into view, but before I could relish my escape, I was tugged against a hard chest.
Phoenix dropped to the concrete. I pulled my knife and twisted around, ready to run it through someone’s jugular.