Page 22 of One Second After Another

“Risk what?”

“Her boss. The League, Naz. What they are—what they do, you know?”

“Not really.”

“Yeah, me either.”

But here he was.

Trying.

No one could ever say Luca didn’t try.

“Her boss,” Naz said, circling a finger in the air when he added, “go back to that. Who is her boss if not the organization she’s—”

The lie slipped from his mouth before he could stop it. Another to add to the growing pile that he would eventually have to deal with. Luca would, just not now.

“They didn’t say,” Luca said.

He swallowed that proverbial pill. It wasn’t easy.

“This is bad.” Naz leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling overhead like he was waiting for the heavens to open up above him. “Worse than I thought—she’s a dead woman walking. Think about it.”

“It’s not going to happen, though,” Luca said, wanting his friend to know that at the very least. “This isn’t over, Naz. She’s not dead. Not yet. And she won’t be if I have anything to say about it.”

That had his friend sitting straighter in the chair, and eyeing him.

He avoided Naz’s gaze when he said, “I know the Donatis can’t go up against an organization like The League and come out of it relatively unharmed, but she might not need that, either. And I’ve got a leg up—I know she’s going after her mother. I only need to be where that bitch is and work from there.”

“You’ve gone from tracking her to protecting her, then?”

Luca’s jaw clicked when he clenched it. “Who else is doing it?”

Naz kept watching him.

Considering.

“Anything else you wanna tell me about Penny—and you, maybe?” Naz asked.

He should.

He wanted to.

Luca had no reason not to tell Naz what had transpired between him and Penny since he found her again. And shit, he wanted to tell someone. Anyone, because then it might make that real. The new loneliness in his heart was a real fucking thing he couldn’t escape. The constant worry and emptiness that wouldn’t leave him alone were driving him insane. It wasn’t fair that he’d dedicated practically so many years to something—or someone, rather—that he wasn’t sure would ever be his.

It only recently dawned on him that Penny did feel like his, in a way. As if that shit wasn’t terrifying enough. He’d always felt something for Penny, but it wasn’t the same now.

Obsessive.

Clawing.

Constant.

“Not yet,” Luca settled on telling Naz, “but I will. Soon.”

“But there is something to tell?”

“There’s something.”