Page 78 of Skin Deep

Chapter25

Gigi

The entire street pulsed with bright lights. Uniformed men swarmed the area. We would not be having mamma’s dinner tonight. I sent her to Uncle Tito and Aunt Lola’s, promising to keep her updated when I learned what was going on.

It warmed my heart to see mamma so worried about Harrison. She’d never liked any of the men I’d dated over the years. When I told her I was marrying Elias, she had gone quiet with me for days. We didn’t speak about it after. I thought it was because she thought if we did, it would happen.

I saw the fire in her eyes to kill him and Miles sometimes. And that was when I’d pull back. My heart kept telling me it was wrong, but my mind seemed to be addicted to the words they would both feed me. I hadn’t realized it until much later, and by then, it almost felt like it was too late. I was too wrapped up, or maybe tied up. Then Elias tried to kill me, but he ended up killing himself. I remembered the satisfied look on mamma’s face, as if she believed spiritual justice had been served.

Maybe some would call it karma. I was not sure what it was. Maybe just…life.

“Ms.?”

“Hmm?” I didn’t bother to turn toward whoever had addressed me.

Harrison was talking to a detective, and I’d been watching him. I’d only had a minute to find out what had happened, then he had to answer questions. I didn’t even have a chance to find out what happened to his face. Everything I was learning came from his answers.

The neighbors claimed there was a fight before the shooting—two men fighting over a woman. Harrison was one of the men fighting. Harrison made it seem like it was no big deal. It happened and it was done. The police asked if it was the same man from a bar fight he’d gotten into.

“Yeah,” he said. “Wayne thought I had something going with Harley, but he was mistaken. I don’t want to press charges, though. I’d rather deal with the men who shot up my house.”

Bar fight? This was the first I was hearing of this. Maybe it was true, but I did not believe thatHarleywas who the fight was over. Harrison’s sister was sitting on the porch, huddled into herself, looking out toward the street. She was close to Mari. She probably brought her here, and my cousin followed. What happened after that? I could imagine.

“Fools,” I said in Sicilian, crossing my arms over my chest, shaking my head.

Did Harrison fight him for her? All the cuts and bruises on him told me hadn’t backed down from it. The thought of him fighting a lone wolf for her made me want to childishly take a sledgehammer to the wall with her butterfly on it.

“Ms.?”

The voice came again, and this time I turned toward it. The policeman had a fresh face, and his cheeks reddened when our eyes met.

“Is it Ms.? Or Mrs.?”

“Ms.,” I said. “Dolce.”

“Ms. Dolce, you don’t need to be out here. You weren’t here.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Harrison’s voice flowed out instead. “Are you running an investigation or a dating service, detective?” He nodded toward us. “Ms. Dolce is with me.”

The detective snapped something at the young cop, and his face reddened even deeper before he walked off. Harrison’s arms were crossed and his jaw tight. I narrowed my eyes. He was almost hugging himself too tight. His jaw was too tense, like he was trying to stop his teeth from knocking together. I took a step forward and ran my hand along his shirt. It was so cold it felt wet.

No. Itwaswet.

My hands seemed to have a panicked mind of their own as I started to feel over his chest. “You have been shot?”

His hand came over mine to stop the crazed petting. “I’m good,” he said.

I yanked my hand out from underneath his. “You are soaking wet! There is blood!” It was on my palms.

“A bullet grazed my shoulder,” he said like it was no big deal, and when he nodded toward it, I noticed the tear in his shirt. “It clotted.”

“You’re all wet! It is freezing out here. What happened?”

At my tone, everyone stopped and looked at us. The detective narrowed his eyes, like he thought a piece of evidence was about to come forth.

“My sister hit me with the hose,” he said.

We all turned to look at her. She didn’t turn her face, but she shrugged. “You act like animals—that’s what you get.”

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