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Lanzo
Iget her in the bath. Warm water, candles, a hot washcloth for her raw neck. I give her soothing tea with honey to drink. “Don’t fall asleep,” I order, making sure she understands. I’d hate for her to survive a strangling only to drown in the fucking tub. “I’ll be back to check on you.”
“Lanzo.” Her voice is an ugly rasp. It kills me. It breaks my heart, hearing her like that. “I’m okay. Really.”
She’s trying to make me feel better.
That only drives the knife in deeper. “I’ll be right back.”
I leave her in the tub and stand in the hall, my hand pressed against the wall, trying to catch my breath.
It was too close. I gave her more space when she went back to the toilets because I was worried about getting caught. There were fewer people and it was too risky to stick close.
I should’ve known better.
It was the perfect spot for an ambush.
That young drunk couple saved her life. I’m not sure I would’ve gotten there in time if I hadn’t seen the girl’s face twist in confusion then fear. That tipped me off. If I hadn’t sensed the guy’s panic as he pulled his girl away, both of them scattering back into the carnival, I’m not sure I would’ve realized what was happening.
They saved Renata’s life.
Otherwise? If there was nobody around to see what happened?
Renata would be dead.
All because of me.
“Fuck you,” I whisper to myself. “You fucking user. You fucking thief. You take and take and take.” My hand curls into a fist.
I wasn’t lying when I said she shouldn’t feel safe with me.
For a few seconds, I thought I lost her. When I pulled the big fuck off her, kicked him in the head, and used the nearby brick to cave his skull to pieces, I thought she was dead. I thought I was too late. But then she was coughing, and it was like my mind came back together. Like I woke up from the underworld, dragged myself from a grave, and crawled into the light of the living again.
I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t gotten there in time.
Found Burian, killed him, then went with him.
But she’s alive. She’s in the tub. I have to keep telling myself that.
I head into the living room. All the ghosts of past missions haunt each step. My phone rings in my hand. Carmine answers. “You all good?” he asks, sounding on edge. He knows about the job tonight.
“Went bad,” I say then give him a quick rundown. “I nearly lost her.”
“Shit,” he says gently. “Lanzo, brother, you couldn’t have known it was a trap.”
“The guy was waiting for her. In that fucking crowd. Iknewit felt wrong, and I still sent her anyway.”
“What are you going to do now?” He doesn’t absolve me. I don’t think he could, even if he tried. A man like Carmine has been through something like this before. He knows how much pain there is and how little anyone can do to alleviate it.
“I don’t know,” I admit, “but I need protection for her friends and family. I’ll pay for the time.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll have a few guys watching each of them. Just send over names and addresses. Descriptions if you have them too.”
“Thank you,” I say, feeling grateful. I lean my forehead on the cold glass. “I nearly lost her, Carmine.”
“She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”
I grunt in reply. “For a long time, I kept a distance. The people I worked with, they were my employees, expendable, they knew the risks. When they died, I could keep going. But this is different.”
