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Lazy calm. After-hours stillness. All is right with the world.
My lids droop, ready to slip close.
…until I notice the man standing at the foot of our bed.
A large, intrusive, shapeless shadow of a man looming over us.
Somebody that could be Lucius.
My heart slams against my chest as I snap upright and go for my gun in the nightstand.
In another blink, he’s gone.
Just the blank space remains. The shadows of the room.
A sleepy figment of my overactive imagination. I scrub a hand over my face and husk out a rough breath.
“You okay?” Delphine murmurs, barely lucid. She’s curled like a cat, a lump under the covers.
“Yes,” I answer tensely. “I’m fine.”
But I’m not fine. Not anymore. I’m on edge.
I settle beside her and glare out at the dark, resenting how this strange night seems to keep stealing our peace away from us.
* * *
Fists pound on our door early in the morning. I’m taking a piss. Delphine’s downstairs with the cats, brewing coffee and making breakfast. The storm ended, though it’s left the island soaked in puddles and wet sand.
My first thought is security, but they know better than to beat on my door like they’re my boss and not the other way around. If they’re that stupid, they can expect a swift introduction to my incredibly sharp and deadly knife collection.
“Who the fuck is it?” I growl, storming from the bathroom. My feet pound against the stairs as the fists pound at the door.
Delphine emerges from the other end of the hall with a kitchen towel in hand. “I’m not sure. I’d answer, but…” She gestures to the state of undress she’s in.
“Better it’s me anyway. I can shoot them in the face.”
A dark joke that’s not a joke. I’m serious.
Whoever the hell it is, better have a damn good reason for banging on our door like this…
I wrench it open, a stone-cold scowl on my face, shirtless in my sweatpants.
It’s not my security team. It’s not even an enemy, like somebody from Lucius's crew or the Belinis, who I’d feel comfortable stabbing in the throat.
“Salvatore Mancino,” says the uniformed police officer. “We have a warrant for your arrest. Put your hands behind your back. You’re coming with us.”
delphine
“May I ask for what?”Salvatore asks in a mock polite tone. “I’ve been a law-abiding citizen my whole life. Never so much as littered on a public street.”
The uniformed police officers share eye rolls.
“Whatever you say, pal. You’re coming with us.”
I’m rushing down the hall, knotting my robe at the waist to cover up the fact I’m only half dressed, in a tank and panties. “What’s going on here? I’m Delphine Adams, Salvatore Mancino’s attorney.”
The officers ignore me, forming a wall around Salvatore. One stands at his back, twisting his arms behind him and slapping handcuffs on his wrists. The other speeds through his Miranda rights.
