Page 17 of Vows of Blood

“He’s marrying someone else. And he tried to get me thrown out, remember?”

Her suspicion melts away, and she sits back, allowing me some personal space again.

"He did seem pissed off when he saw you," she muses, patting my arm. "Good. Because I love you, but these people scare the shit out of me, and the sooner they’re gone, the better.” She directs the next part to Bruno, who we’ve now accepted is listening to every word. “No offense."

“None taken.”

We ride the rest of the way in silence, streetlights whizzing past the tinted windows until Rebecca's apartment building appears too soon. It’s well-lit, in a neighborhood where people can walk their dogs at night without watching over their shoulders.

She hesitates at the car door, one hand on the frame.

"Want to come up?" she asks. "You can take the couch if you don’t want to be alone."

Part of me would love to say yes, but I doubt I’m going to get much sleep. I need some time alone to process what just happened without Rebecca questioning me, searching for answers I don't have.

"Thanks, but I just want to crawl into my own bed." I gesture at the bloodstained shirt hidden beneath Luca's jacket. "After a shower." Hesitating, I catch her fingers in mine as she turns to go. “Are you okay?”

She acts tough, but she has to be rattled by what happened tonight.

"Yep, I’m good. Looking forward to soaking in the tub and going to bed. Promise you’ll call me if you need anything?"

"I will,” I say, knowing full well that I won’t.

She squeezes my hand once, then she's gone, disappearing through the glass doors into the warm lobby light.

Bruno pulls away from the curb, and I sink back into the seat, enjoying the silence. The streets grow darker as we drive, the buildings shorter, and the storefronts shabbier.

“Is this the right direction?” He knows it is. Bruno's eyes flick to the rearview mirror, taking in the shift in the neighborhood. What he’s actually asking is if I really live in this shithole.

My building looks even worse at night. The security light outside the building has been broken for weeks, and the entryway is a pocket of inky black shadow between the convenience store on one side and the laundromat on the other.

Bruno’s poker face gives nothing away as he takes in the cracked concrete steps, the graffiti on the mailboxes, and the flickering fluorescent light in the entryway.

"You're sure you'll be alright, Ms. Fox?"

"I'm sure." Now that I’m almost home, I’m itching to get inside and shut the door on the outside world.

He hands me a business card. It’s plain black with embossed white text on a thick card that screams wealth. There’s nothing on it but a name and a number. Bruno is clearly a man who doesn’t need to go hunting for new clients.

"If you need anything tonight. Anything at all."

I take it, though I have no intention of using it. He might appear nice, but if he’s working for the Calvano family, he must have a dark side to him. "Thanks for the ride."

"Goodnight, Ms. Fox."

On weak legs, I climb the stairs to the third floor, the elevator out of order, and fish my keys from my bag with trembling fingers. The lock sticks, as it always does, and I have to fiddle with it to force it open.

Closing it quickly behind me, I lean against the closed door and sigh.

The apartment is dark and quiet. Vito meows from somewhere in the kitchen, annoyed at my late return. I don't move to greet him, knowing he’ll be unmoved by my frazzled state. Instead, I cross to the window.

Bruno's black sedan is still parked on the street below, the interior light on. He sits inside, phone pressed to his ear, face turned to look up at my apartment.

He's not leaving.

So much for us not being in danger.

I let the curtain fall back into place and turn to face my home, which feels even smaller and more depressing than usual. Bleaker. The overdue rent notice still pinned to my fridge, red letters screaming FINAL WARNING, might have something to do with it.