Page 107 of One Filthy Kiss

It shocks her into a lull between hoarse painful sobs, and I cover her head with my arms, hoping that she’ll focus on my heartbeat instead of the fucker who wants to take her away from me.

Then, trembling violently, I drag my gaze upwards to face him. “Sh-she’s quiet. L-leave her here and t-take me.”

Gio will find her here. I don’t know how long it will take, but at least she’ll be safe.

“Nice try, but you’re not the reason I’m here.”

“P-please,” I whisper. “P-please don’t hurt her. She’s j-just a ch-child.”

“She’s j-just a ch-child,” he mocks me, his face twisted into an ugly sneer. “You didn’t let me finish, Megan. You’re not the reason I came here, but since you’re so determined to get in my way, I figure I can use you to get what I want.”

“Wh-what you w-want?”

“I would elaborate, but we’ve already wasted too much time.” He swings the arc of light towards the staircase. “Get her up there without making any noise.” He orders. “Unless you want me to do it.”

He knows I have no choice. I’m not letting him take Amber without me.

It takes all my strength to stand up, but I manage it somehow.

Amber leans against me and, together, we limp up the staircase, his gun pressed to the back of my skull.

24

GIOVANNI

It feelsas though someone tampered with the main electricity switch serving the town and killed the lights. The thrift store has the feel of a long-derelict building, abandoned to the rodents and spiders and feral creatures creeping in from the surrounding woodland.

We approach the rear of the store on foot.

Luca Bonetti, owner of Amato Thrifts, has known Don Calderone all his life. My father’s old friend claimed that the man would die firing bullets with a gun in each hand and a knife between his teeth if it came to it. He would have been prepared.

Which is why I’m unsurprised when we find the back door swinging from its hinges, the locks busted. Two things fight for attention inside my head. Firstly, Meggie was here. Secondly, The Fish knew about it.

As before, Bruno and his men enter first.

I follow them through the storeroom and out the other side where they halt abruptly in a narrow corridor. They stand aside to let me see what has stopped them in their tracks.

At the opposite end, a man is slumped against the wall, head propped at an unnatural angle, a rifle in each hand. His chest is covered in blood, but his eyes are intact.

Luca Bonetti.

He gave me instructions for locating the hidden entrance to the basement. I run my fingertips across the wall to my left feeling for the slight dip that would indicate a panel, and finding it, I manipulate the lever to spring open the door.

I don’t wait around for Bruno.

Activating the flashlight on my cell phone, I take the slippery staircase slowly, scanning the basement for a glimpse of Meggie’s honey-blond hair or Amber’s curls.

The entire basement has been turned over. Boxes and cartons have been ripped open, their contents scattered across the floor. Cabinets are tipped over. Shredded sacks and mountains of clothes lie all around like a rummage sale that’s about to close. A rocking horse lies on its side, eyeing us up sadly like an upturned tortoise that has given up trying to right itself.

I turn three-sixty, scrutinizing the floor, the walls, the utter carnage left behind for a glimpse of blood. The world tilts on its axis when I discover the patch on the floor, partly mopped up by a velvet curtain, the stain spreading along the material like rising damp.

I’ve lived with bloodshed and violence all my life. I was still a boy when I heard my father deliver the order for someone’s murder to one of his foot soldiers. But nothing has prepared me for this moment.

Meggie is already a part of me, and if she dies, that part of me dies too.

I stumble across the room, following the brown-black splatters towards the staircase, wondering how I missed them on the way down.

Hope. That’s how I missed them. The hope that I would open a cupboard door and Meggie and Amber would crawl out.