Page 47 of His Passerotta

A rickety shelf with picture frames and a color-changing diffuser—the apparent source of the vanilla aroma—catch my eye, and I wander over to take a look.

“H-how did you find out where I live?” she asks.

“You worked for me. I have your information.” I lift a photo of a little girl, maybe six or seven, wearing ragged clothes with her hair in pigtails. She has a pink circle on each cheek and blue eyeshadow like she did her own makeup. Her smile is big, looking up at the camera with every tooth showing and her eyelids crinkled.

“Is this you?” I raise the frame.

She nods and crosses her arms over her chest, walking over to me.

I go back to the photo. “You were adorable.” Setting the frame down, I move onto the rest. “Still are, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how you could possibly have the rap sheet you do. You’re a terrible criminal, but you are cute.” I glance at her and wink.

“I’m not a criminal. And you’re supposed to be apologizing, not insulting me.”

I chuckle. “I already apologized.”

My attention moves to a photo of an older Bailey, late teens or so, with a young boy. He looks a little like her in the face. I lift the frame. “Is this your brother?”

She snatches it from me like it’s something private, like I found it in her panty drawer or something instead of out in the open. She hugs it to her chest.

“Okay, you apologized. Now leave.”

“I just got here. You’re kicking me out already?”

“I don’t know if…” Her shoulders shake with a shiver, and she seems to hug the frame tighter. “I don’t know if it’s safe for you to be here.”

Her words tug at something deep in my chest and drag me the few feet to her. “Bailey…”

She swallows down what I’m guessing is even more fear, and I kick myself for snapping at her earlier. I wasn’t actually here to apologize for it. I was here to see her.

But obviously, I left an impression. I scared her.

I run my hand up her arm, resting it on her shoulder, and smooth my thumb over her collarbone. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. You’re safe. I promise.”

“Are you safe?” she asks, her voice weak. She clears her throat. “I mean from Maksim and Finn and whoever else. You’re being careful, right?”

My nose crinkles slightly, and one side of my lips lifts. “You’re worried about me?”

Her mouth opens, but she pauses a few moments before answering. “I just… I heard about the bomb at La Divina.” She lowers the picture frame to her side. “I was worried.”

Oh. Of course she heard about that. I forgot she knows people at the restaurant. Plus, it’s all over the news.

That’s why she’s scared. Duh.

“Nobody was trying to kill me. They blew up the dumpster outside, that’s all. It was a message.”

“A message?” Her brows bunch like she’s skeptical.

I nod, smoothing my thumb over her carotid. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, but what if you’re the message? There could be more bombs. Have you checked your car?”

“The one I drove here?” I chuckle. “If it was rigged, I wouldn’t have made it.”

“Your apartment then. Have you had it checked out?”

Again I chuckle, shifting closer as I rub Bailey’s tense shoulders. “Relax. I told you, nobody is trying to kill me. I’m well aware of who planted the bomb and what it is they want. They need me alive to give it to them.”

“Who?” she asks, squinting.

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