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Where were you when Alexandra Romanov crawled out of Hell, then dragged half of Hollywood back down with her?
I tug a strand of hair from my short blonde bob away from my mouth and blink at the reflection behind me. How did I not see it before? Granted, the brim of the Dodgers baseball cap hid his head of impeccably styled gray hair and those sharp, cold eyes, but if I’d taken my own advice and looked below the surface, I would have seen then what I see now.
A familiar icy, pale blue stare.
“How did you find me?”
He tilts his chin up, and I swallow a knee-jerk reaction at seeing his steeled expression. “I followed you for fifteen years after you died the first time. What makes you think I’d stop after the second?”
“Luciano…”
He chuckles. “You mean how did I find Jade DeLuca? It’s not a hard alias for anyone who really knows you, kid. I’ve known where you were for months.”
I brace my forearm against the window, a soft curse tearing from my chest. I’m strong, but even concrete cracks, and knowing I’ve been pinging around Europe on some Vitoli GPS tracker causes another fissure. “Then why not come to Italy?”
Thankfully, Luciano still remembers the rules, and his shadow never moves. “No need. Like I said, I know you. You don’t trust anybody. I knew you’d eventually come back to verify I kept my word. This town is in your blood, kid.”
He’s right on all counts, and I hate that he knows me so well.
“That was quite a performance back there. Dominic would’ve been proud.”
That one word is like a sledgehammer to the chest. Yes, he would’ve been proud. If he were here. But he’s not and he never will be.
Shaking my head, I push away from the window and turn around. “Luciano, I—”
A firm grip on my upper arm stops me. “Don’t. Right now, I’m just a Dodgers fan hitting on a blonde facing an Audi. Don’t make it any more than that.”
He’s right, of course. He’s always right.
I stare hard at our reflections in the glass. “About what those women said…”
Luciano stiffens and lets out a low sigh before putting space between us. “I care about you, kid. But more than that, I feel responsible for you. If only—”
Breaking his hold, I spin around, blood pounding in my ears. “You promised no regrets, remember?” My words are deceptively calm, yet still laced with warning. I’ll be damned if I’ll let him shoulder this sin. Choices have been made, and graves have been dug. Regrets are useless.
Luciano grinds his teeth together, gripping the back of his neck hard before dropping his hand and holding my stare with a resigned look in his eyes. “All I’m saying is I’ll always look out for you, kid. At the risk of my own life.”
I don’t doubt his word. Opening my fist, I glance down, finally noticing I’ve gripped my key so hard it broke the skin. Furrowing my brow, I trace the thin line of blood on my palm, dragging it from the top to the bottom and then swirling it in a small circle. “I never got the chance to thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. Hell, I should thank you.” A ghost of a smile rests on his lips. “Because of you, I finally know the truth.” As quickly as it appeared, the smile fades, a frown tugging the corners of his mouth down. I don’t get the chance to ask before he pulls my hand forward, tugs at the hem of his T-shirt, and cleans the bloody “6” off my palm.
I blink, and as the realization of what I’ve done dawns on me, I draw my hand away and curl it by my side. “Thanks.”
“So, did you get what you came for?” he asks, nodding toward the now empty bus. “Did I live up to my end of the bargain?”
I purse my lips, thinking over Tess and Isla’s inflated version of events. I think of Alexandra and her declaration that some people were meant to drown. I think of the moment I resurfaced from the bottom of the Hollywood Reservoir alone. I think of truth and lies, and that gray area some place in the middle where reality exists.
My reality.
Because in the end, isn’t it the only one that’s ever really mattered?
“Oh, Luciano.” Cupping his cheek, I memorize the loyalty etched across his face, knowing this will be the last time I ever see it. “You did more than keep your word. You saved my life.” Dropping my hand, I stare at the bloodstain I left on his cheek, locking the image in a tiny corner of my mind reserved for Alexandra Romanov.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Six.
I’m not scared of it anymore. Six can’t hurt me.
