Page 97 of Gin & Trouble

I stared, unable to form a word.

Dante smiled at me for the first time since I’d left his bed what felt like a millennia ago. “Okay, maybe the thought crossed my mind.”

I shuddered. “Let’s get out of here.”

Dante surprised the hell out of me when he took my hand and brought it to his lips. “Regardless of everything going on, I don’t want to see you blown to smithereens.”

“Um, thanks?” I eased as far away from him as possible. Not because he’d offended me, because for a few seconds, things felt right between us.

“Your fingers are frozen. Go downstairs and warm up.”

“I’d rather not. I was cooped up on a plane for almost twenty hours. Besides, we need to talk.” I hated to ruin the moment, but the sooner I told him everything, the sooner he’d either hate me or forgive me.

“That we do.” Muttering, he checked the knobs and gages. “But right now, I need to focus on getting this beauty out of the marina without scratching Giancarlo’s paint job.”

I gazed over the shoreline, to the craggy mountains, and the towers of the cathedral. “I forget how beautiful it is here.”

“Trapani?” Once he’d pulled away from the dock, he glanced back toward the city.

“Sicily…Italy… all of it. There’s nothing like it in the US.”

He nodded but the tension in his jaw returned. “We’ll be there in two or three hours. Plenty of time for that talk, and for you to hack into Harrison Meriwether’s email.”

“What?”

“Marco wants something that can pin Enzo’s shooting on Meriwether or Governor Calhoun’s right-hand man, Robert Becker.” He folded his arms. “I spent the majority of the flight from New Orleans to Trapani digging up everything I could find.”

I couldn’t make sense of why Marco would want to frame someone for Enzo’s shooting. “Okay?”

“The blonde was Meriwether’s ex-wife. She was meeting Dahlia and Shanna for lunch at Enzo’s. They were trying to get dirt on the senator.” Dante rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Dahlia placed him at the second shooting.”

Could someone else had fired the gun? Someone other than Tommaso’s guys?

“Becker planted a bomb in Leo’s car. It was meant to kill him and Dahlia. Gunnar was with them.”

I gripped the console to stay upright. “Are they—”

“They’re fine, but it would be a favor to society if he were put away for a very long time.” He frowned. “I didn’t come up with the proof Marco needs, but my plane landed before I could hack into their emails.”

“Sure. I can help you.”

“Thanks.” He turned back to the control panel.

Desperate to keep him talking, I said the first thing that popped into my mind. “I didn’t shoot Enzo.”

“There’s video of you running toward him calling his name. Your hand was in your pocket.” His grip tightened on the wheel.

That he’d all but accused me stung, but as much as it hurt, I figured if we could get through this, we could get through anything. “I know, but I didn’t do it.”

“Why were you there?” Dante’s sharp voice cut straight through me.

Recoiling, I lowered my voice. “My software worked for once. I got an alert on my phone—”

“What kind of alert?”

“I had two, actually. The first was when the blonde woman was shot and the second was when the facial recognition registered Pasquale Puglisi.” The memories of the footage flooded me, along with the bone numbing fear. “I tried to call you, but my phone went dead.”

He gave me side-eye. “That’s convenient.”

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