Page 25 of Pen Pal

“What do you want with her husband?” he asked, his nose wrinkling with distaste. “You know him or something?”

I grinned. “Oh, he’s about to know me very intimately, I promise you that.”

Ludovic sighed as he shook his head, staring off into the distance.

“Enzo!” Vitali shouted, jogging back over to us. “Look at the news!”

Puzzled, I got up and went to my bunk, where my commissary-bought TV was. I flicked it on the news channel, and my eyes instantly hardened.

“Sofia Ricci, the daughter of notorious crime lord Mateo Ricci, has gone missing. Police suspect foul play…”

I turned my eyes to my crew, whose eyes were wide with shock and anger. We knew exactly who was behind this. There could be no doubt.

“Tonight,” I muttered low so no one else could hear us. “We’re breaking out tonight.”

8

Amara

After the police left, I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. They pestered me with questions, and I couldn’t really answer them. All they could do was take the brick, dust them for fingerprints, and DNA test, but would they actually do it? Knowing my husband, he didn’t do this himself. He had someone do this for him.

The other residents helped me sweep the glass and board up my window until it could be replaced. I shook the whole time. If Mark knew where I was, then I wasn’t safe here.

“I need to leave,” I told my social worker. “Mark knows I’m here. I can’t stay here.”

“Do you want me to help you find a place? Maybe near your job, so you don’t needa car?” she asked.

“I haven’t gotten my first paycheck yet,” I cried, tears filling my eyes. “I can’t pay for a place, and I can’t stay with anyone else and put them in danger.”

“Oh, your first client paid your retainer already. You can use that to get a place, right?” the social worker questioned.

I froze. Lorenzo paid my retainer and directly to me? I fished my phone out of my pocket and looked at my banking app. Sure enough, I had fifteen thousand dollars in my checking account.

I could cry.

“Good, let’s get you a place in Lockwood,” the social worker soothed. “I’ll put you in a hotel room for tonight, and we’ll search for a place tomorrow. Don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe, okay?”

I nodded, still quaking as I clutched my bathrobe to me tightly. I padded over to my suitcase and started putting my meager possessions inside. I dragged it down the hall until I reached the spare room, and I plopped on the bed unceremoniously. The social worker closed the door behind me.

It was pitch black outside now, and a police officer was parked in front of the building to keep an eye on us. It didn’t make me feel any better, though. In fact, it made me more nervous. The officer was making it obvious where I was now.

I closedmy eyes, surrendering to the void as I attempted to sleep. The darkness refused to take me, though, so I tossed and turned fitfully for an hour before I gave up. I sat up, grumbling impatiently as I headed to the bathroom. Maybe a hot shower would help me sleep.

I shed my clothes and turned on the spray, putting it as hot as I could stand. I grabbed my toiletries from my suitcase, pulled out the soap and shampoo, and placed them along the shower wall before getting in.

The water scalded my skin so deliciously that I moaned, allowing myself to be submersed in the liquid heat. I was soaking in no time, my hair clinging to my body, and I stayed under the spray for at least several minutes before I grabbed my shampoo.

I squirted some lavender-scented shampoo in my hand and lathered it in my hair, the scent calming and soothing. My thoughts wandered to my first day at work and how my first client was terrifying. But something about him, his confidence, his aura, drew me to him. He was dangerous, and I wanted more.

I rinsed my hair and grabbed a washcloth and soap, lathering up the rag until it was nice and soapy. I ran it over my body, gently scrubbing my skin as I imagined it was Lorenzo who touched me. I pictured his large, tattooed hands cuppingmy breasts, stroking my nipples until they hardened, then gliding lower…

I jumped as my phone rang, and I dropped the washcloth on the shower floor. Muttering curses, I quickly ran the showerhead over my body to rinse off before I reached for the phone, wiping my hand on a towel before grabbing it. As I picked up, I angled the spray away, seeing it was an unknown caller. “Hello?”

“Hello, darling,” came the rich, husky voice that sounded all too familiar.

Lorenzo.

“How did you get my number?” I whispered harshly, mortified.

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