Seth touched Netta’s shoulder. “I’m going to give you two some alone time.”
Netta nodded and smiled at him. “Thanks, Seth.”
When they were alone, Alex nodded towards the door. “How long has that been going on?”
“Just since we came to Italy. It’s kind of been brewing for a couple of years, though.”
Alex smiled at her, his eyes tired. “I kind of guessed it might be, but then neither of you seemed to make the first move.”
Netta stroked his hair away from his temple. “I’m sorry about Maceo, Alex.”
“I can’t blame him; if the roles were reversed,Iwould think I was the killer. After all, Viola cheated on me … I have the perfect motive for killing her and to get revenge on Maceo, what better way than to take away the woman he loves. But I couldn’t do it either to Viola or Ori. I don’t expect anyone to believe me.”
“Ibelieve you,” Netta said, leaning her forehead against his. “I always will. Nothing could convince me you’re a killer, Alex. Nothing.”
“That helps so much,” he said quietly. “Thank god for you … because I don’t think I have anyone else.”
New York, 18 months previously …
Viola backed away from him. “Please … please, you don’t have to do this.” The terror was overwhelming as her assailant pointed the crossbow at her. She shivered; forced outside in her underwear by him, she stumbled over the tree roots.
“I do have to do this, Viola … and you know why. Opening your legs for Maceo?Whore.”
Viola shook her head. “It was a mistake, please … ”
He fired the crossbow, and the bolt slammed into her belly. She buckled, gasping in agony, her legs giving way as she slumped to the forest floor. He gazed down at her as she struggled to breathe, and bending, he wrenched the crossbow bolt from her and reloaded it. Blood gushed from her wound. He fired the bolt into her stomach, and she vomited blood, her body jerking with the impact. Her lovely dark eyes were wide with fear, pain, and resignation.
“Why?” She managed to whisper as he pulled the bolt from her body and prepared to deliver the killer blow.
He smiled. “Because this is the way I show my love,” he said and shot her again, the bolt burying itself deep into her slim body.
Viola shuddered, choked on her own blood and then finally was quiet, her eyes open but sightless, her beautiful body blood-soaked and still.
He picked her corpse up easily and floated it into the river. The waters were high and fast today, and she floated down, her blood mixing with the fresh water.
Florence, now...
She was waking up. He had failed. Which meant he would have to risk exposure again to ensure her silence. Orianthi Roy would not recover from this; he would make certain. Even if it meant his capture. Even if it meant killing Maceo to get to her … he hoped he wouldn’t have to do that, because more than anything,more than anything in the world, he wanted Maceo Bartoli to see the woman he loved die.
The doctor shonea light in her eyes, and slowly Ori followed the light. She could hear talking, hear Maceo’s deep, silky Italian accent, but she could not quite focus on anything at the moment. Since opening her eyes, there had been a confusing blur of action in front of her that she couldn’t make sense of. Someone crying. Machinery bleeping; the annoying hiss of whatever the tube down her throat was connected to. She wanted to rip it out, but her entire body felt frozen and numb except for the burning, tormenting pain in her belly. That was the one thing she could remember. The knife. The feel of the steel slicing through her. Someone wanted her dead. Someone had tried to kill her.
A tear trickled down her cheek, and she felt Maceo’s finger sweep it away. He came closer, and his face came into focus.So beautiful,Ori thought,I love you, I love you.
“Don’t try and do too much,” he said, his chocolatey voice sending warm comfort through her. “You are doing so well,mio caro.”
Oh,she wanted his lips against hers—made impossible by the tubes. She wanted to curve her aching body into the sanctuary of his, to feel protected and loved. She tried to communicate that much with her eyes, and for a moment, she thought he might understand. Instead, he turned concerned eyes onto the doctor.
“I think she’s in pain, doctor.”
A few seconds later, she felt the numbing warmth of morphine flood through her. She wanted to keep her eyes on Maceo’s but felt them closing again.So tired. So tired.
The nightmares that came as she slept made the pain worse. Vivid, blood-drenched nightmares of being murdered over and over by the people she loved. Slashing knives, torn skin, pain, above all else, pain.
When she woke, her whole body was drenched in sweat, and despite the tube in her throat, she was screaming. Another sedative.
In the morning, she awoke to the sunshine and to fresh air. The tube had gone. She almost wanted to sob with relief. She made her eyes focus on Maceo; his head was lying on the bed by her right hand, and she slid her fingers into his dark curls, feeling the soft hair on her skin, so warm, so familiar. Maceo opened his green eyes and looked at her and smiled.
“Good morning, my love.” He sat up, bringing her hand to his lips. She tried to speak, but her throat was tinder dry. Seeing this, Maceo sat up, pouring her a glass of water and helping her sip some through a straw. When she had drunk enough, she pulled away but kept her gaze locked on his.
