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“Cazzo!” he barked, but I was already crawling over him. I clamped one hand on his wrist to hold the gun out of the way and wrapped the other around his throat. I squeezed.
He bucked and landed a punch on my temple. A wave of dizziness hit me briefly, and he used the split second to slam the butt of the gun handle into my shoulder. Pain rippled through my torso but I ignored it.
I made another grab for the gun, and we wrestled on the cold ground. Each of us tried to get the upper hand. Snatching his wrist, I banged his arm on a tree branch to dislodge the weapon. The pistol flew out of his grip and landed out of reach in the vegetation.
“Stronzo!” he seethed. He shifted his knee, aiming for a groin shot, so I edged sideways. This gave him just enough leverage to roll me over. Then I was on my back with Giulio on top of me, so I punched his kidney. We went on like this for a minute or two, trading jabs as we tried to gain the advantage. A searing pain tore through my left arm. He had a kitchen knife in his hand. The blade had just torn through my jacket and shirt to the flesh underneath. It wasn’t deep, but it was annoying.
He wasn’t weak. He was lean and strong and quick. Scrappy.
But I was bigger, with bigger hands and better technique. I grabbed his hand that was holding the knife and peeled his pinkie finger back until I nearly broke it. Hissing, he dropped the knife and I tossed it away. Then I got in position and held him down, using my bulk to pin him with his arms over his head. Panting for breath and covered in dirt and grime, we were left to stare at one another.
“Get off me.” He strained and bucked, but I was immovable.
I told him calmly, “You should have shot me when you had the chance.”
Anger boiled inside him. I could see it in every line of his face, each crease of his narrowed eyes. “I could say the same about you.”
I knew why I hadn’t killed him before today. Was it possible Giulio felt the same? Had he hesitated today because of the strange attraction between us?
“I wanted it to be you. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.”
No, it wasn’t possible. Giulio knew what would happen if he didn’t kill me first. He wouldn’t risk it.
Not easing up my grip in the least, I watched him. His chest rose and fell as he struggled for breath, but he didn’t look away. I was stretched out on top of him, so I could feel every bone, every muscle of his long frame. I could detail the chiseled features and angular jaw. The straight nose. Those gorgeous blue eyes framed by long thick lashes. He was devastating this close up.
“Why didn’t you kill me?” I asked.
“I was about to.” Each word was carefully enunciated through clenched teeth.
“Cazzata. You could have pulled the trigger from over there.”
“I was worried I’d miss. Then you would shoot me.”
It could be true, I supposed. But he didn’t strike me as inept. Not the man who just wrestled with me on the ground for five minutes and tried to filet my arm, and not after our target practice.
I pushed, unwilling to let it go. “Why did you say those things yesterday? About Málaga and the blow job?”
He blinked a few times, like he couldn’t believe I’d brought it up. Then he tried to move. “Get off me and I’ll tell you.”
I didn’t want to give up my advantage. “No. Tell me now.”
“I’m not saying shit until you let me up, stronzo.”
I wished I didn’t care. That I could kill him without answers. But I wanted to know every thought in his head. I was fascinated . . . even if he was the cause of my own destruction.
I considered my chances of survival if I let him up. The weapons were far enough away that I wasn’t worried. And I could grapple him to the ground again, if necessary. He was tired, where I was not.
Using my arms, I pushed up and eased my body off his. Shifted my feet to stand. I thought Giulio would scramble to his feet and try to run, but he didn’t. He remained on the ground, propped on his elbows, and stared up at me.
I offered a hand.
After looking at it for a beat, he clasped my palm in his and I pulled him to his feet.
Then I let him go.
My limbs were loose and relaxed, muscles ready. Giulio seemed on edge, his body locked and anxious to fight. He panted and watched me, dark hair hanging in his face. Neither one of us spoke.
I had infinite patience. And I wasn’t the one who needed to explain.
