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If what Ilias had said was true, it should only be us and Lucca inside the house tonight. I’d learned Sal also lived here, but in a guest home that you could see from afar. I couldn’t even consider it a guest home; it was a full-sized two-story house.
The deeper I walked into the hall, the more my anxiety creeped in, but unlike the rest of the low-lit home, the kitchen spilled light into the hall, and so did the smell of freshly brewed coffee.
Three steps away from the doorway, I saw him.
Lucca stood with his back facing me, leaning on the island between us. A steaming white coffee mug rested on the counter top, untouched.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
I guess no one could sneak up on him. He turned, still wearing the same attire from earlier. The only difference was his sleeves. They were rolled up to his forearms and showcased the ink that stained his skin.
“Just looking for a water bottle.”
Lucca’s eyes bore into mine as I stood by the entrance. He nodded toward the large stainless-steel refrigerator and returned his gaze to the window.
I rushed over to the fridge, and when I opened the door, the back window-paned door echoed. A tall older woman with kind eyes and caramel hair walked in.
“Mr. Moretti,” she greeted, grabbing the coffee that was left on the counter and leaving just as quickly as she came in.
Confused, I held two water bottles to my side as I watched through one of the door’s windows, her retreating body heading back to Sal’s home.
Lucca made his way to the door, locked it, and walked past me to leave the kitchen.
I was left puzzled as to who she was. Sal’s wife? No, the tone she used was filled with respect in the same way she would speak to someone higher or of a boss. If so, why had he had a coffee who I thought was for him ready?
It shouldn’t matter, and it wasn’t my business to have cared, but as always, I absorbed any information given.
“Lucca,” I said before regretting to get his attention. Knowing I didn’t have any options left, and truly believing he cared for Ilias, Lucca was my last hope.
Lucca stopped mid-stride until his attention and body faced me. He lifted his brow, acknowledging me without a word.
“Can you promise you will do everything to assure Ilias comes out of this alive?”
“I’m trying, but not everything is in my hands, Davina.” It wasn’t the reply I was looking for, but it was better than nothing. “It’s not your fault.” His head shook slightly. “I see your guilt-ridden eyes, and as much as I would love to blame it on you, it’s not.”
“I believe otherwise.” My lips twisted.
“Do you really believe it was a coincidence that out of any city or state in this country, you ended up in Miami? And it just happened to be a man affiliated to me, protecting you?”
“Then—”
“Don’t search for answers until you are ready for them, Davina. They may cut deeper than you were looking for.”
Whether he spoke the truth or just wanted to fuck with my head, I listened because my concern wasn’t the past. It was our future.
“That night, I’d thought it was my last.” I tucked my hair behind my ear at the admission and vulnerability as I spoke further in detail to him. “And you know, I was okay with that.” I chuckled with no humor, only realization. “I was alone and no one would miss me. I struggled everyday with my mother’s passing and the pain that lived in my head. In a way, I was ready for the possibility of mental freedom.” His features remained impassive. “And no, I wasn’t suicidal, I just believe once we leave earth, there’s an afterlife where things are better. It brought me peace for a short moment. And during those cold minutes wrapped around the pain that was inflicted by Leo’s knife, I saw it. A glimmer of the casing that had taken his life.” Lucca straightened as I carried on, “In the brink of unconsciousness, my hand slid over the blood and snow until I held the cool metal between my fingers. Then, they took him and left me to be claimed to the harsh streets.”
Lucca took a minute before dipping his hand inside the front pocket of his dress pants. When he pulled it out, a small Ziploc bag I’d only seen before in documentaries or pictures where drugs were usually kept, was a single casing.
“You’ve found it.”
“Arlo did, along with the remaining contents of your purse. But this one stood out.” He held the bullet between his fingers. “Somehow, I knew this was it, I just needed for you to confirm it.”
“So, this afternoon?” I questioned, understanding what he’d done, the questioning.
Lucca nodded.
“It wasn’t a lie when I said you could be New York’s downfall. But with this, it would mean their end.”
