Page 14 of Tessa's Trust

“I’m not letting you go in there alone. Didn’t you find a dead body here one time, too?” He shook his head.

Yeah, but that wasn’t my fault. “I’m a big girl, Nick.”

He brushed my hair back from my face and then cupped my jaw, his thumb sliding across my cheek. Tingles spread from his touch, and I fought to remain immobile and not move against his hard and no doubt very warm body. “I promised my grams, and I shouldn’t have, but I would also love to spend New Year’s Eve with you, Contessa.” He leaned in, and I caught my breath.

“I’ll think about it.” My gaze dropped to his mouth, and a riot broke out in my veins. Oh, I looked Irish through and through, but I was half-Italian, and that half wanted to find a Mediterranean beach somewhere and get naked with Basanelli for a weekend…or five. “I’m surprised your grams wants me.”

“Why?” His thumb was driving me crazy, still moving on my face.

I ignored the shiver that overtook my spine, moving right down to my tingling private parts. “I look all Irish.” No doubt his grams wanted him with an Italian woman, just like mine wanted me with an Italian man. So far, out of us three, Anna was with an Irishman, so Nonna was upping her game.

“Baby, you’re more than enough Italian.” He grinned. “You’d better be careful. Our grandmothers are a force.”

I leaned into his touch, unable to stop myself. “Maybe you’re the one who should show caution, Basanelli. If I wanted, I’d have you prepared to live in Silverville your entire life prosecuting jaywalking crimes.” Yeah, I said it to scare him while also keeping my mind rooted in reality.

“For you? It might be worth it.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead, marking me for all time. Just with one little kiss.

I stepped back. “Thanks for the ride. I can handle it from here.” Yeah, my voice was breathy again, but it was cold out.

“Right. Not happening.” He released me and walked toward the side of the diner to a barely there doorway, which he opened. “Come on, Contessa.” He reached for my hand, sending traitorous butterflies up my arm.

“Nick, I don’t need an escort upstairs.” Rolling my eyes, I allowed him to pull me inside, up the steps, and down the hallway to one of two apartments. Then, I paused. My door was partially open.

He nudged me behind him, releasing my hand. “Did you leave this open?”

“No.” My shoulders slumped. This night was insane.

The last time I had walked into a partially open apartment, my ex-boyfriend was dead on the floor. This could not be happening again. Nick gently nudged the door open and then flipped on a light. He whistled.

“What?” I asked, unable to keep from crowding closer to look inside.

My apartment had been torn apart. Drawers were emptied, cushions were slashed, and the couch had even been flipped on its side. I gasped and almost stumbled back. “What in the world?” I started to go inside.

“Wait.” Nick drew me back. “Stay here.”

Squaring his shoulders, he walked through the mess, obviously trying to avoid stepping on broken items, then searched the one bedroom and bathroom before checking out the kitchen and returning. “Nobody’s here. But the entire place is a disaster.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Let’s take a quick look to see if anything’s missing before we call the police.”

That was a good idea. I did as he instructed and looked through everything but couldn’t identify anything missing. Even my jewelry, such that it was, was safe, albeit scattered across my bedroom floor. “Nothing’s gone.”

Nick stood in the kitchen, staring at the old, battered, dingy white refrigerator that had come with the apartment.

“What?” I stepped to his side, crunching broken glass from a picture frame.

“Is that blood?” he asked, looking at the handle.

I tried to peer closer. There were red marks on the handle. “I don’t know.”

Nick shook his head, reached for a paper towel, and gingerly used the other side of the handle to open it. We both looked inside the fridge to see a six-inch, dangerous-looking knife covered in blood. The handle was brown and curved at the end, just like the one protruding from Rudy’s chest.

“Damn it,” Nick muttered.

Chapter 6

Almost midnight and for the second time that evening, Nick and I were separated at a police station and interviewed—this time in the bigger city and a larger conference room. I sat across from Detective Grant Pierce with a crappy but steaming mug of coffee in front of me.

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