Chapter Sixteen Raffa #2
The drawers were ripped out, clothes on the floor and tossed over the unmade bed, the mattress sitting at an odd angle to show they had searched beneath it. Guinevere let out a choked noise, our joint hands moving to her mouth to cover the way it dropped open in shock.
Rage burned through me. I wanted to let go of her hand, banish her to the car, and tear into the policemen about what the fuck had happened. Demanding answers or bribing for them until I knew exactly who had been in my woman’s room.
But she was there by my side, leaning into it like she needed me to balance her, and I could do nothing but calm down enough to see to her needs before my own.
I released a careful breath through my teeth and went straight to Pucci.
“Ah, Signore Romano, we meet again so soon,” he greeted me jovially as I approached, gesturing with one hand for the forensic tech to leave.
“ Non dirmi cazzate ,” I warned. Cut the bullshit. “What happened here?”
His mouth turned down at the corners as if he was hurt by my tone, but he knew well enough not to play anymore.
“Signora Verga called because she heard the crash of the door. The other tenant on this floor and the other two were out for the night, and Verga did not feel safe exploring the noise herself. By the time the first police arrived on scene, the invader was gone.” He ignored my growl of frustration but accepted a sealed plastic bag from a tech and handed it to me. “Do you recognize this?”
It was a small, carved wooden statue of a lion with wings, like the emblem for Venice. Only inside the mouth of this figurine was a wolf pup limp with death.
I looked up at Martina before handing it over, acid surging up my throat.
The man who had organized my assassination attempt had called himself San Marco, like the famous piazza in Venice, and now this. The symbol for Florence was a lion, too, but wingless, and my family had used the symbol of the wolf long before we’d come up north.
The threat was as clear as if they had left a severed head on her desk.
This unknown threat linked to the northeast was officially coming for us, and they would not stop until they owned what the Romanos had had for decades, the Camorra’s seat in the north.
Fortunately, Signora Verga had arrived, and Guinevere’s attention was captured by consoling the older woman, so I could speak without worrying if she would understand me.
“Is anything missing?” I asked.
“No, they left only destruction and this symbol.” Pucci stepped closer, voice lowering, his eyes on Guinevere over my shoulder. “You clearly know what it means.”
A muscle in my jaw popped as I ground my teeth.
“No, it feels like a child’s game,” I said finally, letting my posture loosen. “There is a group of teenage wannabe thugs that loiters out front. You should check in with them.”
“Yes, it could have been some initiation,” Martina added with a wolfish grin. “Kids these days.”
Pucci blinked blandly at us both before huffing, “I could help, if you were honest with me.”
I blinked blandly right back at him.
He sighed. “Listen, I don’t know if you’ve truly given up the ways of your father or if you’re much cleverer than people have given your playboy stereotype credit for, but whatever this is reeks of gang activity.
You wouldn’t want your sweet young American girl getting hurt because of the mistakes of your father, would you? ”
Martina’s subtle hand on my arm was the only thing grounding me. I breathed in through my nose and fixed my coldest smile between my cheeks.
“If you mean to worry me with mentions of my father, you are missing the mark, Pucci. When he died, I did not shed one tear. Everything about him was rotten through to the core, and if this is tied to him, I expect the police to do their job and discover that for themselves before they bring whoever did this to justice.”
“I don’t suppose you would tell me the truth if I asked if your ... family still had any business interests in Livorno?”
“I do not know the specifics of the Romano Group. Not to mention, again, that we are here for a very specific reason about which you are not being helpful at all. Perhaps I should call the mayor—I was just with him an hour ago—and complain to him about the efficacy of the DIA?”
The ground between us seemed to shake with thunder, the air static with impending lightning. One strike and it would be over, but both of us held precariously still, unwilling to concede victory to the other.
“Does she know the truth?” Pucci asked softly, still trying to lure me into striking him so he would have a reason to cuff me.
“She knows the truth about me,” I said, and it felt honest because it was mostly true.
Guinevere might be missing huge chapters of my life’s work, but she understood the underlying principles and themes of my identity better than people closer to me who had known me my entire life.
She could see the duality in me and accepted it.
I just had to believe that she wouldn’t care how deep that darkness went if she ever had occasion to find out.
“This is a simple breaking and entering case.” Martina stepped forward to draw his attention, squeezing my arm in a silent gesture to take Guinevere out of there. “Why don’t we focus on that instead of a ghost story, hmm?”
I left the deputy chief in Martina’s capable hands and went to Guinevere, who was talking with a local officer and Signora Verga. Her expression was one of relief when I slid an arm around her waist and accepted her weight against my side.
She gestured limply at the cop. “Apparently, I can’t take any of my things yet because it’s a crime scene, but he said that nothing was taken.
” She snorted. “Probably because I had nothing of value to take. Though some of the purses and shoes you bought me could have been sold secondhand for a decent amount of money.” I rubbed her frown away with my thumb.
“Anyway, I gave my brief statement about being at the party, and they said they would contact me. Can we go home now?”
I fought a smile because it was inappropriate given the circumstances, but the sound of home in her mouth was almost as pretty as her moans in the Boboli Gardens.
Instead, I kissed her temple. “ Certo, andiamo, cerbiatta. ”
Before we cleared the door, I turned to look at Verga, whose small eyes were wet and red. It went against my usual character to offer aid, but British Raffa would not have thought twice about helping.
“Guinevere is breaking her lease. I will pay the rest of the month and have someone here on Monday to install a better security system for the foyer.”
Signora Verga gaped at me, but when Guinevere giggled softly, the sound stirred her enough that she waved her handkerchief at me in thanks before pressing it to her leaking eyes.
“That was very nice of you,” Guinevere murmured as she pressed more and more of her weight into me while we walked down the stairs and out to the car. “Sweet, some might say.”
“Quiet, you. You are obviously in shock,” I mocked, flicking her lightly on the nose before helping her into the car.
I thought she had fallen asleep on the way to my house when she suddenly murmured, “Just my luck, someone breaking into my place. Much more my speed than literally running into my Italian dream man.”
When I looked over at her at the next red light, she was asleep, mouth open and soft with sleep.
I carried her inside when we arrived, hushing Renzo when he greeted us so that I could get her situated in my bedroom.
She was limp as a doll and heavy while I took off her ruined dress and settled her under the covers.
I leaned over to kiss her forehead and murmured my truth into her ear so that it might affect her dreams. “I never expected to run into my dream American girl. Now that I have, I am not sure I will be able to let you go.”