I tried to ignore the sudden roaring in my ears. Libero Marino was Sara’s brother. One of Jack’s right-hand men. Why had I thought it would be someone I didn’t know? Why had I thought it would be easier than this? The Marinos were my blood – well, most of them – so of course I would likely know my target. ‘When?’ I asked, the faintest flutter in my lashes.
‘Saturday night.’
Five days. I had five days to prepare.
Did Luca know? Would he try to stop it? Had he finally given in to the idea of me taking control of my own destiny?
I forced myself to answer, ignoring the desert in my throat. ‘OK.’
‘Nic will have all the necessary details when the time comes.’
I smiled weakly. ‘Good.’
‘He’s keen to be the one to do it with you,’ he added, something else creeping into his voice – discomfort, disapproval? ‘He wants the opportunity to … mend old wounds.’
I felt myself go pale. Nic wanted to win me back, and he thought this was the way to do it. I swallowed hard, unwilling to deal with that part of the equation – not while I had a life to take, my own character to prove. I was done putting boys first.
Valentino misread my hesitation. He dropped his hands. ‘You don’t need to take Libero down, Sophie, you just have to deal the killing blow. You can use a knife if you prefer.’
‘No,’ I said, forcing my lips into something that didn’t resemble a horrified grimace. ‘I’ll use a gun. I like … I like guns.’
I like guns? Really, Sophie?
Amusement swept across his features. ‘That makes two of us.’ He sat back in his chair, those canines glinting at me. ‘If you do this, the next time you have a gun pointed at someone, it will be your uncle.’
‘Good,’ I said, baring my teeth right back. I didn’t have to force that one.
He opened another drawer and withdrew a wooden box. The lid, when it came up, was made of cherry wood, the outline of a falcon etched into it. The Falcones really did like to keep everything on-brand. He flipped the lid over and it landed on the desk with a dull thud. ‘This is for you, Sophie. This is for Saturday.’
He lifted a gun out of the box and slid it across the table. It was black and silver, like Nic’s, but it was smaller and the handle was curved. I picked it up, rotating it in front of my face. In such a short time, I had come to handle a gun with ease, the fear that I might accidentally shoot myself no longer holding me back.
I studied the sleek lines, the feel of the handle on the pad of my hands. ‘It’s nice.’
‘It is.’
‘It’s light.’
‘It’s empty.’
I glanced at the box. ‘Where are the bullets?’
Valentino offered me a half-smile. ‘You overestimate my trust in you.’
I frowned at him. ‘You think I’d shoot you? And in this house, of all places?’
Probably shouldn’t have added that last part.
Another glint of those canines. The more time I spent in his presence, the less like Luca he appeared. They used their features completely differently. Valentino didn’t wear empathy, or sympathy, or understanding. He wore astuteness and wry amusement. ‘I don’t take chances,’ he said. ‘Even in this house.’ He tapped the photograph of Libero Marino. ‘Maybe after Saturday, I’ll think differently.’
‘You will,’ I said, focusing on Libero’s dark eyes. ‘After Saturday, everything will be different.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MARINO BLOOD
Fear is a relative thing.
‘Don’t hang up whatever you do. Don’t you dare hang up on me during my hour of need, Sophie.’
It was 9.15 p.m. on Monday night, and I was in my bedroom on the third floor of the Falcone mansion. I was sitting cross-legged on my bed, my unfinished poetry assignment in my lap, my cell phone pressed against my ear. I had just finished two hours of shooting practice with Nic, and even though my trigger finger hurt like hell and my arm was aching, it was worth it.
‘I’m here,’ I assured Millie. ‘I wouldn’t miss this for the world.’
‘Stop laughing at me!’ she whined.
‘I’m not laughing at you.’
‘I can hear the amusement in your voice!’ she said, before descending into another bout of shrieking. It sounded like she was on a rollercoaster. ‘Oh my God, he’s coming right at me! Oh my God, OH MY GOD. HELP ME SOPHIE!’
Millie had been trying to kill a daddy-long-legs for the last fourteen minutes. ‘Run!’ I said, faux panic raising my pitch. ‘Run before he turns you into one too!’
‘Oh Jesus, I think there’s two of them, Soph!’ She fell deadly quiet, and then a gasp dragged in her throat. ‘I think they’re having sex mid-air! Oh, that is so gross.’
‘You insect voyeur, give them some privacy!’
There was a very audible thump on the other end. I imagined her throwing her chemistry book at the wall. ‘Damn,’ she cursed. ‘Missed them.’
I flopped back against my pillows and closed my eyes. I took myself out of Evelina, away from the homework and the guns and the threats and the boys, and imagined I was sitting on Millie’s floral bedspread beside her, watching her nearly twist an ankle as she tried to tackle a couple of harmless insects. ‘Calm down,’ I soothed. ‘They’re more scared of you than you are of them.’