Page 49 of Vows of Blood

It would have been nice to find the guy fast. I’ve struggled with the knowledge that the shooter would face the Calvano’s instead of a court of law, but with the news that Kate has passed, my guilt has lessened.

Anyone who kills an innocent woman on her engagement night deserves whatever he gets.

Vito appears and leaps onto the bench beside me, padding across the buttery soft leather before settling into my lap. I scratch behind his ears absently as I turn yet another page, gazing out at the dwindling sunlight.

“Why don’t you take a break? You’ve been looking through those for hours.”

Carmella wipes the counters studiously, avoiding even glancing in the direction of the photos spread before me.

Shaking my head, I give her my best enthusiastic smile. “I’d prefer to keep going. The sooner I get this done, the better for everyone.”

Without saying another word, she deposits another cup of coffee in front of me and continues to cook, setting the table for dinner with two places across from each other. My thoughts keep drifting to Luca. Whether he’s okay and how difficult this must be, praying he’s not in any real danger.

Rubbing my gritty eyes, I yawn, lack of sleep finally catching up with me. My body is finally giving up, the adrenaline and fear I’ve been running on starting to fade, leaving only exhaustion behind.

“No luck?” Tony asks, giving the guard a nod as he enters the kitchen, showered and clean-shaven.

“No. I’ve been through it twice, but nobody is jumping out at me.”

When he sets another hefty binder down on the table, I stare at it and groan, resting my head in my two hands.

“Time is of the essence,” Tony says by way of apology. “Luca needs to find who did this.”

Remembering Luca’s drawn face as he left, I nod. “Is Kate’s family really on their way?”

Tony presses his lips shut.

“Luca went to meet them with Enzo, but they haven’t come back yet…” I stare out the vast window toward the empty driveway where there’s been no activity for hours. It’s making me nervous.

Tony sighs. “I imagine Luca and the O’Sullivan’s have a lot of arrangements to make.” He stares down the long, empty driveway. “Her family is probably… upset.”

His big hands clench into fists and uncurl, tattoos on the back of his knuckles stretching, before he shoves them into his pants pockets. I get the impression he wants to be with them.

“They can’t blame Luca for what happened… can they?”

Tony meets my eye steadily. “People in our world don’t trust easily, and the O’Sullivan’s trusted Luca. So while he may not have hurt her himself, it’s possible this happened because of a previous action he took or a deal gone wrong. It’s a tough world we live in, Ms. Fox. An eye for an eye.” He taps the binder and slides it my way. “All we can do is try to make sure it’s the right someone.”

No pressure then.

Before I can ask any more questions, like whether Luca will be home at all, Tony turns and leaves me alone once more in the vast kitchen.

Luca’s under no obligation to tell me what he’s doing, but I won’t be able to relax until I see him myself.

Head pounding, I slam the first binder shut, despondent at not being able to find our man among this batch of pictures. Needing a break before I tackle the next book, I move to the table to eat the dinner Carmella just set down, just as car doors slam outside.

I keep my eyes down, refusing to watch the door like some eager housewife waiting for her husband to come home even though that’s exactly how I feel.

But then his footsteps sound in the foyer, the exchange of words I can't make out, and despite myself, when a shadow falls across the doorway, I look up.

Luca looks exhausted, his jaw dusted with stubble that suits him, and dark shadows under his eyes. Enzo hovers behind him for a moment before peeling off down the hallway with a brusque nod in my direction.

"Anything?" Luca asks, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of his chair while nodding toward the two binders.

"Not yet. I’m just starting the second one."

He nods, looking resigned rather than disappointed. His shirt is wrinkled, the dark cotton straining across his shoulders as he rolls his neck, stretching over impressive muscles that I don't remember being quite so defined. He's filled out since college, in a good way.

Carmella slides a plate onto the table, and he wraps an arm around her, still standing, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. She pats him on the back before slipping away quietly.