Page 125 of Married With Malice

Hurriedly, I throw on my robe, curse myself for failing to bring my phone into the bathroom and listen again.

Nothing.

I don’t routinely hear things that aren’t there, but I was distracted with daydreams of Luca and I can’t be sure I heard correctly.

After tying a knot on my comfy terrycloth robe with fumbling fingers, I hold my breath as I crack open the bathroom door. The bedroom is empty. Everything is in place. The only noise is the faint tick of the bedroom wall clock.

My bare feet are soundless on the floor as I creep across the room to the dresser where there’s a loaded gun in the top drawer. Luca was perplexed to learn my father had never allowed us to handle guns and I had no idea how to shoot one. He immediately bought me a Ruger pistol and signed me up for lessons at the local gun range.

I wouldn’t call myself a sharpshooter but at least I know how to load it and pull the trigger. I do feel sort of preposterous holding the gun while tiptoeing through the empty house in search of an explanation for a noise I may or may not have heard.

I’m in the hallway just outside the kitchen when I hear the distinctive scrape of a chair against the tile. A man clears his throat and it’s definitely not Luca.

My fear factor goes from lukewarm to scorching.

Why did I come down here at all?

Why didn’t I barricade myself in an upstairs room and call for help?

Why does my hand shake so much when I hold the gun up?

I should have double checked to make sure it really is loaded. It would sure suck to pull the trigger on an intruder and see nothing happen. And do I have the safety off? Whereisthe safety again?

While I’m having a panic attack over the mechanics of my gun, a man steps into view.

“BAHHHH!” he screams in shock when he sees me.

I’m so startled that I drop the gun on the floor but in the same instant I recognize he’s one of my father’s bodyguards.

“Easy.” He holds his hands up to show he means no harm. “It’s okay, Annalisa. The door was open. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Of all my father’s men, Sonny is probably the least objectionable. I’ve seen him around all my life and he’s never given me a problem.

But he still shouldn’t be hanging out in my kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand.

His thin lips flatten and I could swear there’s a glint of sympathy in his puffy face. “I need to take you to your father’s house.”

A shadow at the window catches my eye and I see two other men in the front yard. Part of the more recent crop of mafia inductees, I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to them.

“Why? Did something happen to my father?”

Gee, did I sound a little too hopeful there?

Sonny shakes his head. “He’s fine. He just wants you home safe right now so he sent me to pick you up.”

This is cause for some alarm. My father isn’t overly cautious when it comes to my safety. If he has sent a member of his trusted old guard to retrieve me, then there must be considerable reason to worry.

“I need to call Luca.”

Sonny shakes his head and won’t meet my eye. “No time for that.”

“It will just take a minute. Let me just get my phone. And I need to get dressed anyway. I don’t even have shoes on.”

“Annalisa,” he says. “We’re leaving right now.”

He’s quick for a man of his size. While I’m still sorting through my confusion, he’s crossed the room and taken hold of my arm. His grip is firm but not painful. He’s not like Rocco. There’s a pleading look on his face that says the last thing he’d like to do is hurt me.

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