Page 40 of Forging Caine

“And the one who talks gets dead,” I said. Could Fiori have been behind that, too?

“I had a feeling you’d come to that conclusion.”

“Great minds,” said Antonio, who was busy cutting something behind the breakfast bar. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat? I thought I’d make some French toast.”

“Thank you, but no.” She returned to the table and retrieved her cap. “I’m still on duty and need to get back to work. I thought it would be best if you heard it from me before it made the news.”

I escorted her to the door. “This can’t be easy on you.”

She put on her cap and gripped my arm, more than professional courtesy swimming in her eyes. “Or you.”

“Listen…” I was better at stuffing my emotions down deep than expressing them, but how was I supposed to win back my former best friend if I didn’t go out on a limb now and then? “Antonio and I are heading out of town in a couple of days, but when we get back, would you like to go out for coffee?”

“I’d like that.” She pursed her lips and smiled. “It’s been long enough.”

I wanted to hug her but refrained. Antonio’s easy-going manner was rubbing off on me.

Once she was in the elevator, I closed the door and stopped behind the breakfast bar. “What about the cornetti you bought?”

“I worked up some extra appetite.” He shrugged, whisking eggs in a shallow dish. “Would you like anything else?”

“There’s a lot I’d like, Antonio.” I gripped the back of one of the chairs, bile churning in my stomach. All I could see was Antonio’s flashlight flipping end over end in a dark house and the flash from Jimmy’s gun. Blood covering my hands as Antonio slipped from consciousness. He tried to kill Antonio, so why was I so shaken up about his death?

“I’m going upstairs.” The pawnshop was the link between Jimmy and Parker. I needed to get back to the evidence Elliot had brought me. “There’s something in those files and I’m going to find it.”

Chapter 13

Antonio

“Wait,bella.”Isetthe knife and bread aside. We had to discuss this. I couldn’t leave her investigating the pawnshop files without getting any of the news about Jimmy out of her system.

“Why?”

“Jimmy was your friend.”

“I’ve done a relatively good job for the last four months of suppressing everything, so I don’t have to think about what he did. Him being dead doesn’t change that I don’t want to talk about it.”

I wanted to round the bar and take her in my arms. Tell her everything would be alright. But there were some things she needed that for—like the letter from her father—and others she didn’t. “What ifIwant to talk about it?” I was the one he’d shot, after all.

She raised those blasted hands and rubbed them over her face. Always with the walls, this one. “Do you really? Or have you already talked it over with more than a dozen people and you’re using that to get me to open up?”

“That’s true, but I’d like to talk toyouabout it.”

“I can’t.”

“Please tell me there’s ayetcoming for the end of that sentence.”

“Yet.” She dragged her hands down, pulling at her cheeks, emphasizing her exhausted features. “For right now, I need to feel useful, Antonio. There’s no way I’m going to weasel information about Jimmy’s death out of anyone in the know, so this is all I’ve got.”

I picked up the knife and placed it against the top of the loaf. Was I hungry or was this stress eating? Perhaps I was avoiding working on Fiori’s painting. I should have been starting that work so I’d be prepared when he called tomorrow night. “Maybe I’ll go down to the gym. Want to join—”

Our phones pinged with another notification from the front desk.

“Marone. What now?”

“Delivery.” Samantha flashed her phone in my direction. “For you.”

“Allowing you to escape my overly active emotions?” I hadn’t ordered anything, so was unsure what it was.

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