Page 86 of Shark Bait

Alessio scrubs his jaw and glances over my head, probably at Val, who is sitting at the desk behind me.

“Someone talk to me!” I scream at the top of my lungs. My belly tightens in a contraction, and I rub it, hoping I won’t deliver before my time. But these folks are stressing me out. “I want to know. I have the right to know.” I turn to Valerina. “Please. We’re friends, aren’t we? Aren’t we, Val? Or was all this a big lie?” I’m crying again. Eh, what’s new?

Alessio takes out a cloth handkerchief and hands it to me. I note the letter A sewn elegantly in the corner of the soft cloth before I wipe my eyes with it. I’m tempted to blow my nose and hand it back to him, but think better of it because I’m trying to get him to tell me something, not piss him off by behaving like an immature girl.

“They arrested him,” Alessio says.

OH MY GOD.

“That’s why he’s late,” Val concludes and curses.

“Arrested him? But how?” I ask, because I have nothing else to say, and I need to know more and nobody is sharing anything.

“With cuffs, I imagine,” Alessio answers.

“Bless your heart,” I say sweetly, “for sharing that groundbreaking bit of information. As the daughter of a sheriff, not to mention a grown woman, I’d have never known that’s how arrests are made. Then there’s the unknown of having never dated a hitman before, so I’m out of touch with his professional hazards. I’m so happy to have you here to educate me.”

I hope my passive aggression comes across loudly and clearly. I think it does because Alessio puts the empty whiskey glass on the desk. He leans back on the windowsill, crosses one ankle over the other, and presses his palms together as if he’s praying, but I think that’s just the way he concentrates. Two fingers tap against each other.

One. One-two.

One. One-two.

Oh no. I recognize that rhythm. It’s a sign of distress in this family.

“They arrested him for murder of Marco Nikaj, a.k.a. La Falena. They’re interrogating him.”

“But…but you said Shark’s coming home tonight. You said this is one of his easiest missions. You said he’s the best. Never gets caught. You said?—”

“Silence.” Alessio’s voice slices through my downward spiral like a whip.

Another contraction tightens my belly, and I wince.

Alessio notices. “Sit down,” he says.

My ass hits the reading chair, and he comes over, picks up the blanket, and throws it over me. Then he crouches in front of me, staring.

This is unnerving. I swallow.

I can’t hold his gaze. It feels like staring into a winter storm wearing nothing but pajamas. I pick at the blanket, glance at him, find him staring, feel even more uncomfortable, and look away again.

“Did he say anything to you before he left?” Alessio asks.

I snort. “What you saw is how we parted. He just took off into the sky. You were the last one to speak with him, so I should ask you that question.” When Alessio doesn’t move, I glance at him again. “I’m telling the truth.”

“I believe you.”

If he believes me, why is he still in my space? God, this man is like ice. “Can you get him out?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s not what I want to hear.”

“I’m crushed that I’m underdelivering on your expectations.”

“Don’t mind him,” Val says. “He’s hurting and lashing out.”

Alessio rises and starts to pace the office the way I did a few hours ago.

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