Page 45 of Ruthless Saint

I narrow my eyes. “Why, Luca?”

“To keep you safe, apparently.”

I stop in my tracks. Whoa. Why is he so concerned with my safety? And where the hell does Bibi fit into that equation? “I don’t get it,” I whisper.

“Neither do I. Your turn.”

I resume walking, my head spinning as I rattle off the main stats. “Seat Ibiza, five door hatchback. Made in nineteen-ninety-nine. One point four litre engine. One hundred and one horsepower that will take you from naught to one hundred in ten point seven seconds.” She was a fast little thing.

This time, it’s Luca who stops, pulling me to face him. His eyes narrowed as his lips thin. “Bibi? A red old car?”

I show him my teeth. “All true.”

“Why, then?”

“Why, what?” I ask innocently.

“Why put me through all that misery?”

I pat his cheek gently. “Information for information, my friend. And it’s much easier to convince someone to give up their secrets if they’re frustrated.”

“Dante is going to have his hands full with you,” he grumbles.

“He already does, Luca.” I grin up at him.

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that,” he chuckles, all the frustration gone from his face. “So, why did you want to come here?”

“I just…” I turn away from him, facing the ocean. The waters are choppier than the last time I was here, probably because of the dark clouds in the sky. A sprinkling of salty ocean drops lands on my face each time the waves collide with the dock. I lick my lips, tasting the brine. “I just love it here,” I whisper.

“Do you swim?”

“No.”

“I could teach you.”

I whip my head. “You could?”

“If you want.” He rubs the back of his neck, a blush creeping up onto his tanned cheeks.

“I’d love that.”

“Cool, I’ll see what I can do. So, Alessa,” he says as we resume walking, my arm sliding back into its place between his body and the crook of his elbow. “Why a Seat and not, let’s say… a Fiat?”

I burst out laughing. “God, you guys are so predictable.”

“Us, guys?”

“You know.” I gesture, swooping my hand around like it’s a good enough explanation. When he doesn’t look any more clued in, I whisper, “Themafia.”

This time, he’s the one bursting into laughter. “Are you worried someone will overhear you?”

“I don’t know. Are we supposed to say it out loud? Isn’t it like Rumplestiltskin or Bloody Mary? Say it three times and they show up? Except, it would be the FBI showing up.”

He stops, his body tensing as he looks around. “Shit. You’re right. We need to find cover! They’ll be here any minute.” I might have believed him if his shoulders weren’t shaking up and down in silent laughter.

“You fucker.” I roll my eyes and kick him half heartedly on his calf. “I don’t know what the mafia etiquette is, do I? Unlike you, I wasn’t born into it,” I huff.

He stops laughing. “You’re safe with me. You’re safe with Angelo. And you’re safe with Dante. People around here know we’re in charge. And even though we don’t advertise it, they know who we are. Whether you wereborninto the mafia or not, you’re under our protection now. And despite the small town we live in, Santoro is a powerful name.”

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