Page 33 of What's Left of Us

I can't care. I'm sick of people watching Jo. She's never going to feel comfortable or safe again if this keeps happening.

Dante manages to grab my ear, digging his fingers in before he pulls. It hurts, and as I swing again I black out for a moment.

“Vinny!”

I’m positive it’s Jo calling to me, but I’m just focused on this. It’s been a long time since I had a reason to fight anyone like this.

“Vinny!”

Something crashes to the ground beside us, and when I pull back my arm again I spare a glance upward before I pause.

It’s a laptop. The corner looks dinged, but Jo is behind it ripping the screen open. Whatever played before on the monitor loads again, and Dante doesn’t swing as I glare at the screen.

It’s a recording. Taken from a distance, I’m pretty sure all he did was record us while sitting in the car. It’s pretty far off, and if I didn’t know those curtains and what the back of Jo’s head looks like I might not recognize it right away.

Then it zooms in, and someone is standing right outside the window, almost pressing the device to the glass. Jo and I are kissing inside, and from the position of the frame I block most of her.

I turn and glare down at Dante, who has his hand raised again. Instead of fighting me, like I expect from someone employed by the Ajello family, he’s shielding his face. “Who were you recording this for?”

“I hate voyeurs who don’t ask for permission,” Jo hisses, and she stands and kicks the laptop closed. Her feet are really close to Dante’s face, and he turns his head to peer at her as she speaks. “You work for Massimo?”

Dante peers between us, keeping his arm lifted between me and him. Finally he licks his lips and focuses on me again. “Lo lavoro per Xeno. Non per Massimo.”

I narrow my eyes, wondering why he wants to go back to Italian now. “Hai un segreto che vuoi condividere?”

He hesitates. “Tuo fratello ci ha detto di sorvegliare la casa. Ho trovato una lettera nella cassetta della posta che diceva di registrare quello che facevi e inviarlo a un file condiviso online. Penso che fosse sua madre.”

My other hand still grips his neck, and I tighten my hold. “You shouldn’t take orders from anyone but Xeno.Chi ti ha dato la lettera?”

“Era scritta al computer,” he whimpers. “Ma una fan fuori dall’ospedale mi ha detto che stavo facendo un buon lavoro quando mi ha visto.”

“Chi?”

He looks between us. “Una ragazza. Una di quelle ossessionate dal Citrus Grove Slayer.”

I groan. That could be far too many people. “Hai avuto un nome-”

“Non Alastair,” he interrupts, and Jo perks up at the name. “Ha detto che era così entusiasta che la vera sterminatrice stesse venendo alla luce. Non vedevano l’ora che una donna dominasse i titoli dei giornali.”

“She’s a Slayer who thinks Porscha is better?” I ask, surprised. Jo straightens, when I speak, and I’m sure it doesn’t make sense.

Dante nods, twisting his face to the side to spit out blood. He’s a mess, red smeared across his face. “They didn’t say where the recordings went. Just that they were due.”

“Due?” Jo asks, looking between us.

“I got paid for sending the recordings,” he explains, tensing when I tighten my grip again. “I no longer had requestsfor the recordings after Porscha was arrested. Don’t know what to tell you.”

I shove him as I release him, straightening up and stepping back. There’s blood across my knuckles and the more I start to focus on myself, I realize I can taste it in my mouth too. He got at least one good hit in, but his actions weren’t fueled by rage.

“Oh, shit,” Jo says, and I glance at her. “You busted your knuckles.”

Stepping away from Dante, I glance down and study my arm. There’s still blood on my knuckles, and when I purse my lips I can taste it in my mouth too. If he even moves wrong right now I’m going to start beating on him again. The adrenaline makes the blood pound in my ears, and I have to shake my head to will the dark thoughts away.

Dante whines before I can think about anything else. “You busted my tooth!”

Jo hops over the laptop, grabbing my arm. I’ve always done a good job keeping my violent side away from her. In high school, I was always controlled and cautious, and our relationship was shaped by that from the moment we moved to Colorado onward. I haven’t had a lot of reasons to get into fights like this since leaving Florida.

“Did you have to hit him so much?” Jo asks, bending to grab the laptop. Dante’s still groaning on the ground, but he isn’t dead. I didn’t even punch him enough to make him pass out, and I’m kind of disappointed about that, to be honest.

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