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He moves away from me and I don’t turn to see where he goes.
Asshole.
“Finally,” a feminine voice huffs from beside me and I turn to find Amarie standing beside me.
The brown skinned bombshell is dressed in a zebra print dress today. On anyone else it’d look like a teen going to prom, but Amarie looks like she’s about to walk down the runway. Her springy curls are pulled away from her face. French tips tap on the bar before she offers me a wink.
Warmth fills my chest and I pull her into a hug, knowing Amadeo is too far to do anything about it.
Take that, asshole.
Amarie chuckles, her fruity perfume moving between us as she returns the hug before pulling back. Her eyes move over me, stopping on the brace. “Well, fuck.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“Who paid you to say that shit?”
“No one.” I shake my head. “It feels a lot better than it did a week ago, and definitely better than when it first happened.” I knock my hand against the brace. “The brace helps, as horrible as it looks.”
Her brows moves together. “I don’t know, it looks like it could be a hell of a weapon holster.” From the intrigue in her voice, I know she isn’t joking, and it makes me think of another thing.
Another reason why I needed to get to work as quickly as possible.
I peep over my shoulder, but I don’t see Amadeo, and I know I won’t unless he wants me to see him. Turning back to Amarie, I lean close to her, keeping my voice low.
“About that, we need to talk.” I just got here and there’s no way I can try to pull her into the back without Amdeo following and doing his best to eavesdrop.
Hell, he’ll probably say something about Amarie being a threat which will result in her getting snippy with him.
No, we’re going to have to have this conversation out in the open.
“Can you give me a pad?” I ask Dave, leaning over the bar.
He looks around as if Amdeo is going to pop up and rip his hand off for giving me paper, but nods. He passes me the pad.
“Thanks.” I glance up to Amarie, pulling the pen attached to the pad and clicking it. “Walk with me.” I tell her, trying to be discreet as I start jotting down letters on the pad.
Amarie frowns, but walks with me as I slowly walk toward an area where clients are. We keep a safe distance from them, but not enough to look odd.
“We’re going to have to scratch our plans,” I tell Amarie, tapping my pen against the three letter word.
GIO.
Amarie’s brows pulls together and for a second I think she’s forgotten about our plans, which holy hell that’d make her a terrible hitwoman. But then her lips press together and she nods.
The first time Amarie had attempted to kill Giovanni for me, it’d only been pure luck that it hadn’t succeeded. For some reason, Gio had walked away from his car after he started it so he hadn’t been inside when it’d exploded.
Lucia had pinned the attempt on a different assassin. Amarie had explained there was no way Lucia hadn’t known the work belonged to the drake, Amarie’s moniker, and I’d been too afraid to ask Lucia why she’d lied. Because it’d reveal that I know information I shouldn’t.
Though I suspect Lucia already has some suspicions about Amarie.
She keeps her voice low, amusement in her eyes. “Got it. I’d been holding off on my next explosion until I heard from you. Which I guess is a good thing, or else they’d be putting on their Sunday best for a Costa, because I don’t make a mistake twice.”
CHAPTER SEVEN: GIOVANNI
How do you prepare for a war when your enemy isn’t even aware that it’s started?
I recline back in my seat, cigar between my fingers as I look at the papers strewn along my desk in front of me. They hold all the work I’ve put into my plan over the last couple of years.
