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“Romano is dead, that’s what happened here. Have the usual clean-up crew here, and tell Pietro to give the duck to Mrs. Willoughby next door. Otherwise, I don’t want the neighbors getting alarmed. I’m taking Sophie home.”
“Si. Is she okay, though? Are you alright, Sophie?” Dante looks her over, his eyes still wide with shock and alarm. He must have feared the worst when he couldn’t contact me.
“Hi, Dante,” she croaks.
His gaze immediately goes to her neck. “Shit.” He brings out his phone. “I’m calling the doc to meet you at your penthouse.”
“Grazie, Dante.” I start toward one of the cars and then turn back. “And what about our friend?”
“Safe as a clam and airborne,” he says, meeting my gaze head-on.
Although I’m relieved, I can’t help cocking an eyebrow. Dante has never disobeyed my order before.
“Romano was at large. Besides, I knew you didn’t mean it, fratello. It was the hurt speaking.”
Something in Dante’s face tells me he knows all about wanting to lash out when one is hurting. I nod gratefully to him then I head to the car.
As soon as I settle Sophie into the back seat of the SUV, she whispers, “Miguel Ramirez.”
“Who?”
“One of those men was my client. And I killed him.”
“Back up. You knew one of Romano’s men?”
“He is—” She pauses. “was my Monday morning client.”
“The snotty Wall Street kid? Really?”
“Yeah. Only, Miguel wasn’t just Romano’s man. He was a Cartel member. Maria, Victoria, and apparently, I were supposed to be sold to the Cartel the moment Leo flaked on Romano’s orders.”
“What?” I knew Romano was depraved enough to want to turn Maria into one of his working girls, but selling them to the Cartel?
She raises glassy eyes to me. “You saved me, Nico. You showed up at my office the very morning Miguel wanted to kidnap me. And every other time they planned to take me from home.”
“Baby. I’m sure the outcome would have been the same as it was tonight. You would have killed him.”
“I would have tried to fight him off. But I wouldn’t have had you saving my life when it really mattered.”
I reach into the back seat where I know Dante always has water bottles, twist off the cap of one, then offer it to Sophie, just as Dante gets in and wordlessly starts to drive.
Sophie remains silent in my arms for a couple of minutes, and then she starts to sob. “Oh my God, I killed my client.”
“He gave you no choice, baby.”
I gave you no choice. The guilt is killing me here. Never in my life have I felt the urge to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness for not being there when I should have. I stroke her back, murmuring reassurances to her.
When her sobs quieten, I look into her haunted eyes. “I think this therapist is going to need some therapy.”
She nods. “I think so, too.”
“I’m really sorry love.” I blurt out.
She glances at me. “For what?”
“Doubting you earlier.” If I hadn’t, none of this would have happened. She’d have no bruising around her neck, no blood on her hands, no splatter all over her clothes from the men she’s killed.
She keeps looking at me, wheels clearly turning behind her eyes, but not surprisingly, I have no clue what she’s thinking. “You checked your voicemail?” she asks.
