Page 42 of Charity's Redemption

“And?”

Vito told Luca all the information he’d shared with me. Each time he’d give new information, his gaze would meet mine, then back to a stoic Luca.

“Chi fa da sé, fa per tre.” Luca slammed his coffee mug down, then walked out with a swagger that warned everyone to stay out of his way. He wouldn’t find her. I saw to it.

“What does that mean?” Vito asked.

“English translation? It means ‘If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.’”

Vito hung his head and stared into his black mug. “You told her, didn’t you?”

“Yep.”

“He’s going to find out.”

“I intend on being the person to tell him.” And if he needed a translation for that—it meant don’t open your goddamn mouth.

“What do you think he’ll do this time?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

It was hard to tell with Luca. Last night, she got off fairly easy, I think, for going behind his back. Another unsanctioned hit, deliberately disobeying an order, leaving a crime scene to pick up? There was no telling how he might react to that, regardless of her complicity in the matter.

Luca stomped back into the kitchen with tightened fists and a look that threatened to rip my balls off.

He glared at me. “Where is she?”

“She didn’t do it.”

“That’s not what I asked, is it?”

“Think about it. Even when Charity killed that girl, she knew she’d get in trouble for it, but she came to you and confessed, anyway. She cleaned up her mess and hid her tracks.” I paused, waiting for him to respond, and when he didn’t, I continued. “This is sloppy and reads out like a setup.”

“Where is she?”

I sucked in a slow, deep breath. There was no getting through to this hot-head right now. “She went to feed her spawn of Satan.”

Luca turned on his heel, leaving Vito and me in his dust.

I could talk himthrough it if he’d just listen… like he listened to me about Adams? It just didn’t seem right to up and leave without giving it a chance to talk it out. I didn’t do it and he’d see that, but Max was convinced this was the way things needed to be right now.

The tiny hairs on the back of my neck raised, nearly standing on end as I drove through town towards my home. It was the same feeling I’d gotten when I found out the ICF enforcer had followed me. It was the same feeling I had when my brother tried to kill me. I was certain someone had their eyes drilled into my spine, staring me down from afar.

I pulled into my driveway, the paranoia never ceasing until my garage door moved down, sealing me inside where I waited. But still, the itchy feeling niggling in the back of my mind never left. It burrowed in, making itself known like a sixth sense. My erratic pulse slowed as I pulled in calming breaths and made my way inside my home.

My door screeched open, reminding me of that special spray it needed, then out of my periphery, I spotted two men sitting on my couch. My heart leaped from my chest and took off running as I reached for my pistol and stepped further inside, letting my door slam close.

I aimed it, center mass, noting a traitorous fur ball sitting in the lap of one of them. The light shifted, illuminating one man’s features. My heart slowed its pace as recognition set in.

“Okay, Doctor Evil. Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s a dumb idea to break into a killer’s home?”

“Put it away, puta,” he said with his pistol pointed at me.

A stand off… what I’ve always wanted.

“Pooch, you and I both know the moment I have time to put you on my table, I’m going to do it. And I’m gonna start with that tongue of yours first.”

“Enough with the baseless threats, Charity,” Elias Hernandez said, petting my stupid cat. “We both know you don’t hold the power to do anything.”

---