Page 363 of Lars

Zero.

But WHY?!

Why put me in a situation where I might see Lars and fuck up – like I just did?!

Unless –

Unless the client thought I would turn down the job if I knew Lars worked for Rosolini.

FUCK.

I reached the stone wall and grabbed the rope ladder, which I’d hidden in the underbrush.

I threw the grappling hooks. By the grace of God, they caught on the first try.

As I climbed, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled –

Like I was being watched.

The feeling of being the prey instead of the predator.

I could just bet I was in somebody’s sights right about now –

Maybe Lars’s.

That frightened me more than anything.

I wanted to rip off my helmet and scream, Don’t shoot! It’s me, don’t shoot –

But part of me wondered if that might make him even more liable to pull the trigger.

I just moved as fast as I could, pulling the rope ladder along with me as I rolled over the top of the wall.

As soon as I landed on the other side, sweet relief coursed through me despite the pain of impact.

If somebody could have shot me, they hadn’t done it –

And the wall was perfect cover.

I pulled off the bulletproof face helmet and felt the sweat pour down my face.

I still looked around frantically, like the boogeyman might appear out of thin air –

But the vineyards were deserted.

I threw my helmet, rifle, and rope ladder in the trunk of the BMW…

Got behind the wheel…

And hauled ass out of there as fast as I could.

165

Iroared down the winding roads of Tuscany, figuring it was better to deal with a cop than to be chased by the mafia.

I wanted to pull out my phone and scream at the client, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!

But I had to focus on driving so I could get out of there.

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