Page 183 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

Of course, Cara had been keeping up with what she could. It seemed Gian had found himself in jail under a half of a dozen weapons charges, and according to the news, the weapons had been found at the Guzzi mansion. The weapons didn’t entirely relate to the investigation’s main objective—whatever that was, as the info hadn’t been offered—but the unregistered, illegal weapons were still grounds for charges.

Canada did not like guns on the streets, especially not illegal guns.

Given Gian’s name and affiliations, a previous arrest for assault with a weapon, and his ability to up and leave the country, simply because of the amount of zeros in his bank account, he was remanded to the jail until his trial. A trial which was likely going to be sped up when Gian accepted a shorter sentencing term for a deal that was offered regarding the charges.

Or so Cara heard …

She was trying not to get involved. She was trying to keep her head low and stay the hell out of it all, so then she didn’t get dragged into a mess, too. That was the message passed along to her during a late-night visit from Chris. The man had shown up at her door with those instructions from Gian, and very little else.

Cara didn’t have much of a choice but to agree.

As it was, her life was already a fucking mess for more reasons than just Gian’s arrest. She didn’t plan to add to it with stupidity.

“Did you need something specific?” Cara asked her aunt. “Because I really need to get done here, so I can go home and work on my essay due next week.”

“No, I just worried about you, Cara. You haven’t called, or been around. I wanted to check up on you. I know you’re here a lot throughout the week when you’re not at school, so I thought I would drop by today since I was in the neighborhood.”

Her aunt seemed sincere enough.

Cara decided to placate the woman.

“I am fine, Zia. But I am busy, really. I promise, I will make it up to you, and come over for dinner this weekend. I have nothing else better to do, okay?”

Daniele pursed her lips, but eventually smiled and nodded. “Fine, that sounds good. And you are well, aren’t you?”

“Yes, why?”

“You’re looking a little green today, that’s all.”

Cara swallowed the nauseous feeling building in her stomach and crawling up the back of her throat. It was not the easiest thing to hide—especially when the random vomiting spells hit at the most awkward of times—but she managed.

“I’m fine,” Cara assured. “I’ll even call you when I get home tonight after work, all right?”

“If you’re sure …”

“Perfectly sure, Zia.”

Cara’s lies and false smiles seemed to do the trick. Her aunt left with a demand that she had better call that night, and show up for dinner on the weekend. She barely heard her aunt’s footsteps fade away before she made it to the garbage can in the corner to throw up.

Her hands shook as she tried to steady herself for the second wave of sickness that almost always followed the first round.

The biggest question of her life had been answered that morning when she pissed on a plastic stick, and a small window blinked with a single word over and over again. At seven days late, and a multitude of other symptoms, Cara knew the answer. She still took the test, half praying it would come out one way, and yet feeling a mess of relief, joy, and absolute chilling fear when she finally knew for sure.

Pregnant.

The pregnancy test was still in her purse. It was probably still blinking that goddamn word. Cara was too scared to check. She wasn’t ready for it to be real.

Not yet.

“Miss Rossi.”

Cara stiffened at the sound of Chris’s greeting behind her. She turned the lock in her apartment door to close it up, and turned to face the man. He smiled at her. “You could have knocked on the door.”

“I just arrived.”

“Mmm.”

Chris nodded at her messenger bag. “Going somewhere?”