Page 8 of Enzo DeLuca

“Don’t make me ask twice.”

Her chin lifted as she glared at him. “What happens if you have to ask twice? Are you going to hit me? Only weak men hit women.”

"I agree. I’ll never hit a woman. But I can make it so you never leave here."

"You can't keep me here. I have to go home. People will look for me."

“Don Deluca,” Stefan called.

When Enzo looked back, Stefan handed him an iPad. Enzo smiled as he scrolled through the information the document on the device contained.

“It seems that no one will be looking for you,” Enzo told the witness. “You live alone.” Her eyes widened when he read her address to her.

“That’s an invasion of privacy,” she told him.

“No husband.”Good. “No kids. Not even a pet.”

“I had a fish. Once. It died. But that’s beside the point. You...”

“You used to work as a Fire Fighter.” He stared up from the device to look at her. “But you quit. Why did you quit?”

She stared down at her hands. But he didn’t miss the haunted expression that came over her face when he mentioned her previous job. He’d seen that look before. He’d seen it on men who’d witnessed too much death and destruction. He’d seen it many times when he stared into the mirror. Enzo looked back down at the device. He scrolled some more.

“You have a website,” he said.

“It’s a blog.”

“Same damn thing.”

“There’s a difference. It’s a travel blog. Like I told you already, I’m here on vacation, and I plan to blog about it.”

“In one of your posts, you state that you’re here on a self-employment Visa.” Which meant she intended to be there for a while.

“Yes.”

“But you just said you were here on vacation. Which is it? Work or vacation?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. The details matter. You said vacation. Your blog says work.”

“My blog is my work. I have a travel blog. I visit tourist attractions, and I also help people plan their vacations.”

Enzo nodded. He exited her blog, then scrolled through more of her information. As he read over her file, he told her, “Not only did you quit your job, but you also moved out of your house.”

“There was no point in paying rent when I would be spending the year in another country.”

“Your business address is listed as a P.O Box address.”

“I don’t plan to get any mail.”

“You also...”

“Look, I know myself and my history. You don’t have to tell it to me.”

Enzo looked up at her. Given her current predicament, she should be begging for her life. But, she didn’t seem afraid of him.

Interesting.

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