Page 38 of Loathe Me (Touch of Death 1)
“I know. She’s up my ass, too. I’ll find out, but Sasha, if you fuck up…”
“Once, Nero. That was my first, and I can assure you only mistake in my life.”
“I’ll have Gio send you any whispers.”
“Thank you.” I hang up and launch the phone across the room. “Shit!” That was stupid of me. I rushed in on limited information, and now, I’ve backed us into a corner.
I’m on edge for the rest of the day. Bianchi’s men will be looking for me. They know I’m here in Sicily, and if they know I have Adelina, then they’ll know she’s with me. We need to leave, but I can’t move without knowing where to go.
It’s not until late afternoon when I finally get a text from Gio with an address in Rome. This is a long shot, it says. It’s all I have right now.
“Adelina! Pack a bag. We’re leaving!”
Nero organized an apartment for us in Rome. It’s central, across the road from the building that houses the apartment Enrique owns here. I keep a close eye on the windows, but the shutters are closed, making it hard to work out if there is anyone inside.
Adelina and I have existed as ships in the night for the last two days. She goes into the kitchen to eat once or twice a day, and then immediately retreats to her room. I heard her crying last night, but I’m not sure if I’m supposed to do anything since she clearly doesn’t want to discuss it.
I’m making breakfast when I hear her bedroom door open. I turn around in time to watch her place a gun on the kitchen counter, and I wonder where the hell she got it.
“What are you doing?”
She pulls her hair up into a ponytail, fastening it in place. “We’re in Rome.”
“Yes…”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Don’t give me that bullshit. Enrique’s family has a house here. My father always brought us to Rome for business dealings. You’re going after him. It was kind of obvious. You took me to Sicily.”
“That does not explain why you have a gun.”
She grabs the gun, shoving it in the back of her jeans. “I’m coming with you.”
“No. You’re not.”
“I want him dead; you want him dead. Our interests are aligned.” A glint shines in her eye, one I’ve seen many times before in Una, a feral drive for revenge. Once Una gets that look, she doesn’t stop until she’s bathed in blood. Adelina is not Una, though. She doesn’t know what she’s getting into.
“Give me the gun.” I step forward and hold out my hand.
She glares at me. “No.”
“Adelina…”
“Fuck you, Sasha.”
I inhale a deep breath and move. She barely manages to scramble back a step before I grab her wrist and yank it across her front, spinning her. She grunts as her I tug her back up against my front. Her head tilts to the side, and I notice the scent of her shampoo; lemon, just as I expected.
I slide my free hand between our bodies, and she stills as I grab the gun and tug it free from her jeans. “You’ll hurt yourself, malyshka.” I soften my hold, and she yanks away from me like a hissing cat.
“No. I won’t.” She slowly turns around, another gun in hand. My gun. Slowly, she lifts it, pointing it at me. I pat my holster, sure enough, finding it empty.
“Adelina,” I growl.
She rolls her eyes before lowering the gun and popping out the clip. She then dismantles the chamber and places the parts on the counter in front of her before picking it up and reassembling it. I’m handed back my gun with her delicate fingers wrapped around the barrel. “My father always made sure we could defend ourselves just as well as any of his men. Can I have my gun back now?” She holds out her hand, and I stare at her outstretched palm.
I didn’t ask Gabriella the specifics on this, but I’m sure she doesn’t want the little sister she tasked me to guard running around trying to kill Enrique Bianchi. But she has that right. He’s hunting her like a prize bitch, having taken out her father. She has every reason, and I’ve killed men for a lot less. She wants revenge, and that’s one thing I understand intimately.
Closing my eyes, I tilt my head back and picture Adelina standing in front of a faceless man, her gun raised, body tense with the urge to pull the trigger. Then I imagine a ring of Elite soldiers closing ranks around him.
“No,” I say.
“Imagine if it were your father, Sasha.”
I helped kill the only father I’d ever known. “I think you misunderstand the meaning of protection.”
“So, what, you can go after him, but I can’t? Does my sister know you plan to kill Enrique?” A humorless smirk touches her lips. “No, of course not. Because if it were that simple, she would have sent men after him herself.”
