Page 56 of Harbor

“Go to the car, and leave the gun,” Renzo muttered, forcing himself to roll over before he pushed up on his knees. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

This time, she didn’t argue. She knew he was coming, too. She made sure of that.

Crazy woman.

“And stay out of the fucking lobby—use the stairwells,” he shouted at her back.

Fucking cameras everywhere.

This was going to be a mess.

• • •

“Let me look at your face—”

“I’m fine,” Renzo grunted.

Lucia’s wild gaze still drifted to him even though she really should be focusing on the road ahead of her. He would have told her that, but the last thing he wanted was to get her in a state. She was doing fine right then—calm, and pretty quiet, except for how she kept going on about his bruised face. He was waiting for her to break, to realize what she had done back in Tuck’s apartment.

It would come.

It always did.

The first time he killed someone wasn’t even an accident—something he was forced to do, but also knew he needed to do. And yet, he still found himself keeled over hours later, unable to get another person’s death face out of his head as scalding hot water beat down on his back.

Because that was human.

It’s what they did.

“What did you find in his place?” Lucia asked.

Renzo’s gaze drifted to the backseat where Diego was happily sleeping. Lucia had left him sleeping in the backseat as she came up to the apartment earlier, and the kid didn’t know anything. He had no clue what happened. Lost to his dreams, he probably wouldn’t even wake up until they stopped again.

Who knew when that was going to be?

“Some money,” Renzo said. “A gun in his office. Nothing, really.”

Lucia nodded. “Your face looks—”

“Lucia, I am fine.”

Her grip tightened around the steering wheel. So tight, in fact, that her knuckles turned white from the pressure. Maybe he should have just let her keep focusing on him and the bruises he was sporting. Let her bitch about his busted mouth, and black eyes. Let her fret over his fucking bruised temple, and likely concussion.

At least then, she was worrying about him.

Not lost in her head.

In her thoughts …

“What did I do?” she asked softly.

Her voice ached.

He didn’t miss the clenching of her hands again. The way they trembled from her fingertips up her arms. How her gaze got a little wet, and her breaths came faster and faster until it was one right after the other without a pause.

The panic was coming.

The breakdown was there.