Page 273 of Lorenzo

Lorenzo stays beside me behind the counter, his gun angled toward the entrance while he watches Greco through the narrow opening between the shelves.

“He came himself,” I whisper.

“Yes.”

Which is very telling.

Marcello could have sent men to drag us out, could have stayed somewhere else while they did the work for him, but he is standing outside in the rain because his first plan to put Alessio in prison failed. And his second plan to snap us up quickly failed.

Now there's only one plan left, and he's not letting it get away from him.

The realization stirs nausea up in my stomach.

Then, because apparently, that's not enough, the other realization I had in the car comes back as well.

The crackers, the pasta, the weepiness.

And my period.

My period, which has been the most consistent thing in my life. Through all the grief and the stress and moving from house to house, and training at Quantico, and leaving the FBI, I have never been late, not once.

Until now.

My hand tightens around my gun.

This is definitely not the time for this.

And it is definitely not the time to tell Lorenzo.

But what if it's the only time I have to tell him?

It would change things.

It changes the way I look at the front door. It changes the way I think about running into gunfire or taking a chance I might normally take without hesitation. It adds another variable when I already have far too many.

And it might change them for him too.

Shouldn't he know before he makes those decisions?

Lorenzo glances at me, and his eyes narrow slightly.

“You all right?”

My eyes meet his, but I don't get the chance to say anything because the shelf rattles again as Greco puts pressure against the door.

His voice carries through the glass. “You can keep hiding in there if you like, Lorenzo.”

Lorenzo’s jaw clenches.

“It's not going to help,” Marcello continues.

I glance toward the back of the store.

We could still try to find another exit, but at this point I doubt Greco left one uncovered. He knows where we are. His men watched us enter. If he has any competence at all, the building is surrounded.

Running blind into an unknown number of armed men would be worse than staying where we at least have cover.

Lorenzo reaches the same conclusion.