Page 81 of Murder & Mayhem

I reach out to brush a wet, pruned finger along his arm, which is leaning on the side of the tub. His gaze snaps to mine as he’s dragged back into the present. We stare at one another for a moment before he rolls his shirt sleeve up to the elbow and submerges his arm into the tub, pulling the plug. “Come on, let's get you out.” He moves to grab a towel from the rail and wraps it around me before lifting me out of the bath, uncaring that water is seeping through the towel and turning his shirt see-through.

I wind my arms around his neck as he carries me into the bedroom. Setting me on the end of the bed, he moves to grab the first top he finds in my duffel before returning to me and handing it over. Like a true gentleman—which I know he is not—he turns, giving me an ounce of privacy while I quickly dry off and pull on the top—ironically one of Oliver’s. He turns back around as I slip under the covers and begins undoing the buttons on his shirt. I get momentarily distracted as he shrugs out of it, showing off gorgeous bronzed skin and lean muscle. Next, his hands go to his belt, and I offer him the same respect he gave me, looking away as he steps out of them. I only look back at him as he slides into the bed beside me.

He leans back against the headboard, watching me cautiously. I hesitate for a moment before decidingfuck itand curl into him. His arm wraps loosely around me as I rest my head on his shoulder. For the first time since I woke up, I feel at peace, safe, and protected.

We sit there in silence for I don’t know how long, before I ask, “What happened to your dad?” He’s already told me he betrayed Giovanni and met his death because of it, but I don’t know the particulars.

“One day, I woke up, and he’d been branded a traitor. He was tortured and killed, and I was forever seen as Judas’ son. Someone not to be trusted; to be watched at all times.”

“Why didn’t Giovanni just ostracize you?”

His laugh is cold and lacks any humor. “That would have been far too easy. Why do that when he can keep me close and torment me every day.” His hand draws lazy circles on the back of my arm as I relax into him. “But he didn’t count on Dante. Giovanni thought he had him so fucked in the head that he wasn’t capable of caring about anyone. And he nearly did. It just took Giovanni beating me half to death for that switch in Dante to flick on.” I gasp, but he continues talking. “Ever since then, he’s been battling with himself, trying to turn it on again, to keep it on.” Sensing him looking down at me, I glance up at him through my eyelashes. “I’m pretty sure you’re his hot wire.”

We lapse into an easy silence after that, each of us lost in our own thoughts, and eventually, I drift into a dreamless sleep. The next time I wake up, it’s dark outside, and I’m sprawled across Enzo, who is snoring softly. Leaning on my elbow, I look up at him. I can just about make out his peaceful expression. Needing to move onto my other side, I roll over, but I freeze when I find another naked chest.What the fuck. There definitely weren’t two hot Italian men in my bed when I fell asleep.

I drag my eyes over his broad, muscular chest, unable to make out the various tattoos peeking out from beneath the sheets until I eventually reach his face. A small gasp escapes me as I find Dante lying there, his hand behind his head, watching me.

“What are you doing here?”

He just continues to watch me. He’s always watching, cataloging, analyzing. Instead of answering me—the dude has issues with answering questions—he reaches out and gently tugs me to lie down beside him, my head resting on his chest.

“Just sleep,mia vita.”

I don’t understand the meaning of his words, but they sound sexy as fuck in his sleep-thickened voice, and the way he softly strokes my hair with his fingers assures me it can only be a good thing as my eyes drift shut once again.

***

I sit on the edge of the bed, my leg bouncing with nervous energy as I stare at the burner phone Cain gave me. It’s all I’ve done for the last hour while I tried to work up the courage to do what I need to do.

I feel fucking awful knowing the situation I’m about to put him in, but I feel even worse when I picture Enzo or Dante lying dead amongst the rubble of the church. Ultimately, that image pushes me to press dial on his number.

Bringing the phone to my ear, I don’t get a second to back out before Cain answers. “You okay?”

Ignoring his question, I just about manage to squeeze out a “hey.”

“What’s wrong?” I knew Cain would know the instant I spoke that something wasn’t right. That’s why I put off calling him for as long as I could, but the wedding is tomorrow, and this can’t wait any longer. Both Dante and Enzo have been giving me plenty of space, so I’ve had far too much time to think, and although I know I’m asking Cain for a lot, I believe it’s the right thing.

“Nothing,” I lie. “I’m just tired.”

“Just one more day,” he promises.

“Yeah,” I sigh, his words only ratcheting up my anxiety instead of easing it as he intended. My stress levels have been building with every passing day for the last week. On the one hand I need this stupid wedding over with, but on the other, I’m terrified that Dante and Enzo will go down with everyone else. Which is the reason for this call. “I need a favor,” I eventually choke out.

“What is it?” Cain doesn’t sound bothered, but I know as soon as I tell him what it is, he’s going to get his back up about it. Not that I can blame him exactly.

I lick my suddenly dry lips. “I need you to let Dante and Enzo escape with their lives.”

A deafening silence comes down the phone line, and if it weren’t for the fact that I can still hear him breathing, I’d have thought we had lost connection. Instead, I wait him out.

“Why?” That one word is threaded with vitriol and warning, and I can picture him sitting behind his desk with his dark, Reaper Reject leader expression and clutching the phone so tightly that the plastic is probably at risk of cracking.

“Please,” I plead instead of answering him. He doesn’t want to hear my answer. It would only be further ammunition for why heshouldkill them.

“Red.” It’s a low growl, but I hear the strain behind it.

“Please,” I repeat, closing my eyes against the onslaught of tears threatening to spill over. “I know what I’m asking. Iknow.”

“Have they done something to you? Are they threatening you?”

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