Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“I’m not lying.” Kara tugged him down into his seat, lifted her chin, and her expression was fierce as she stared at Gio. “Do you want me to describe the way he died in detail? How he gasped when he was shot? How his blood looked splattered on the yellow wallpaper? The sound it made when he fell in a heap to the floor?”
Goddamn, she was believable. Gio had to see it.
I translated what she’d said and added, “Yes, it’s convenient, but that doesn’t automatically mean it’s untrue.”
The Italian set his hands on the table, pushed up to stand, and sipped the remainder of his wine. He took his time, drawing it out like an asshole. “I’d like to leave.”
I withdrew Jason’s Glock from where I’d tucked it, ejected the magazine, and removed the round from the chamber. The gun thumped on the table beside their phones as I pocketed the ammo. “No one leaves their seat for the next ten minutes. If you do this, you won’t see me or this man again, understood?”
Gio strode from the room and disappeared into the kitchen. He’d cut through it to the back exit where a limo would be waiting for him. I stayed behind for five minutes, guarding the doors to the private room, making sure my friends did as I’d told them.
Then I went out the front of the restaurant. I ducked into the car that had been arranged to take me straight to the airport. Gio didn’t want to be in Munich any longer than necessary.
When we reunited, his disappointment was obvious; he’d wanted one of the Dunns to answer for his brother’s death.
“When we get back to Rome, my father’s going to have questions about the meeting. He’ll want details. He’s . . . a precise man.”
No shit. Then my brain quit working. “I need an hour.”
He stared at me like I’d just asked him to shoot me. He scowled. “An hour for what?”
Jesus, I needed to think of a believable explanation, one that he could relate to. “I met a woman.”
“Moving on so soon after Olivia?” He made a ‘tsk, tsk’ noise. “Of course, you did put a bullet in her stomach.” He waved a hand. “We have women back in Rome. Wouldn’t you rather have an Italian girl over a German one?”
“No.”
“Oh, I see.” The smile that grew on his face was annoying. “She must be American.”
I didn’t confirm or deny it. “I can take a commercial flight and be back in Rome this evening.”
“You must need it bad. Staying around isn’t the best idea.” He glanced at his phone as he considered the request. “Fine, go have your fun with the girl and get it out of your system. But don’t keep my father waiting.”
24
OLIVIA
It was mid-afternoon when I finished at the Osterhägen headquarters and returned to the hotel, my appointment scheduled with my new captain for the morning. I’d have to log several hours in both aircrafts before I could start flying passengers, and the captains and I were anxious to get started.
I came into the room, dropping my stack of paperwork on the side table.
Wait, why were the lights on?
The air in the room went thin. Ethan stood from the couch, his expression guarded. “I told you my real name,” he said. “You could’ve at least told me yours, Kathryn.”
My bones turned to ice. “Don’t say that name again. I’m Olivia Wallace.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Actually, technically, I’m Sara Pratt. That’s the new identity you had Shawn arrange.”
Dammit, Jason.
People looked at me differently when they thought they knew my story.
“Kathryn Pierce died on a mountain,” I continued, “and I told you before—I don’t want to talk about it.”
He wasn’t the least bit fazed by my harsh tone. “Like it or not, we’re going to have that conversation.”
I shook my head, my frustration climbing. “Why? It was a long time ago. How is it important now?”
“Because I want to know what happened to you.” The statement hung in the air. “Look, I know I have no right to ask it. You don’t owe this to me.” He sighed. “But I want to hear it from you because you seem to understand me better than anyone else. Maybe I want the same to be true for me.”
I swallowed a breath, utterly conflicted. I’d left the States precisely to get away from this. “There’s plenty of stuff online that tells the story better than I can.” I tried to deflect. “What are you doing here? Where’s Gio?”
“Don’t worry about him. Please tell me about the night on the mountain.”
Was he serious? I’d said no. Why was he still pushing? I put my hands on my hips and unleashed the full fury of my glare on him. “I believe I told you that I don’t like talking about myself.”