Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“They must’ve knocked me out, because that’s all I recall,” I say.
“Do you have any idea what the motive for the attack could have been?” Officer Bartoli asks.
“Maybe a robbery.” I lick my dry lips. “Maybe they heard my husband is wealthy.”
The detective’s smile is knowing. “Have you checked the house, Mr. Russo? Are any valuables missing?”
“As you can imagine, valuables haven’t been my priority,” Angelo says.
“Of course.” Officer Bartoli puts his phone away. “Are you going to file charges?”
“No,” I say, inviting a surprised look from the officer. “I just want to put this behind me.”
“We want you to find them,” Angelo says. “These men shouldn’t be left to roam freely in our neighborhood.”
“We’ll do what we can.” Officer Bartoli folds his hands behind his back. “Do you mind if we check out the house?”
“You’re welcome to.” Angelo gives him a stiff smile. “I had the doors repaired—naturally—but we’ll do whatever we can to help with the investigation.”
“That’s good to know,” Officer Bartoli says, his small smile suggesting he doesn’t believe us. “Let me know if anything is missing when you’ve had time to go through the house.”
“I’ll do that.” Angelo offers the officer a hand. “Thank you for your time to speak to my wife.”
The officer glances at Angelo’s proffered hand before shaking it. “You’re welcome.” To me, he says, “I wish you a speedy recovery, Mrs. Russo.”
I force a smile. “Thank you.”
With a nod at Angelo, he leaves.
And then we’re alone.
I thought I was ready for this moment, but I’m not.
Angelo stares at me with questions burning in his eyes.
“Roch…” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Is he dead?”
Angelo’s reply is as gentle as the hand he brushes over my hair. “He’s alive.”
I sit up straighter and immediately regret it when pain stabs into my ribs. “He is? I wanted to get him help, but I didn’t make it.”
“You more than made it. You survived.” A deep line cuts between his eyebrows. “Against all odds.”
“Is he here? I’d like to see him.” I take a breath and fight for control as the memories threaten to throw me back into that dark moment. “To thank him.”
“I had him flown to the hospital in Bastia where they could operate. I saw him just before I came over. The bastard is as tough as ever.”
I smile. “I’m glad to hear that. I want to visit him.”
“When you’re stronger, you can thank him in person. I wanted him to come back to work for me, but he’s happier as a teacher.”
“It’s strange, isn’t it? He doesn’t look like the type.”
“Nope.” His tone is quiet, probing. “He said he gave you a phone.”
My head suddenly feels too heavy for my neck. I lean back against the pillows. “He did.”
Instead of questioning me about my visits to the village as I expected, Angelo says, “What you told Officer Bartoli about your attackers, is that true?”
“I do remember their faces.” Hatred tastes bitter on my tongue. My words are brittle. “I’ll never be able to forget them.”
He utters a curse and presses a kiss on the back of my hand. “Why did you lie?”
“Because Roch killed three of them. I’m not going to repay him by getting him into trouble.”
“That’s wise.” He sits down, leaning an elbow next to me. “Is that the only reason?”
“No,” I admit. “I remember their clothes and their shaved heads. They were part of a gang. The attack was premeditated, and I was the target. They came after me to hurt you, didn’t they?”
“Yes,” he says, gritting his teeth.
“Then there’s your answer. I couldn’t let Officer Bartoli ask questions about vendettas and why an organized crime group would want to weaken you. It could’ve given the police the ammunition they need to implicate you as part of a clandestine operation.”
“You’re protecting me?” he asks, watching me with an intense gaze.
A memory of the day he told me we’ll never be on the same side flashes through my mind. “We’re not on opposite sides.”
“No.” His smile is tender. “We’re not. You were never going to sell me out me to Lavigne.”
“Do you trust me all of a sudden?”
“I know what happened outside.”
I frown. “How?”
“Drone,” he says casually.
“Really, you’re despicable.”
“I can’t argue that.” He clasps my hand between both of his. “That’s why I have to ask, why I need to be sure.” He searches my face. “Is this what you want?”
“You mean do I want you?”
He nods, studying me like a predator as he gently caresses my hand.
“Because if I don’t, you’ll let me go?” I ask.
The line of his jaw turns hard. “I’ll do anything for you, cara, anything at all, but I can’t let you go.”
“Because you need my surname, or because you want an heir?”
He winces. “Because I can’t live without you. Because everything has always been about you. Everything I think, dream, breathe, and feel are you. If you leave me, I’ll have nothing.” He pauses. “If I let you go, I’ll never have a chance to make everything up to you.” He scrutinizes me, watching me as if he wants to see straight into my heart. “Do you want to leave?”