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“I’ll start a fire. But you’ll always have me,” Santino shouts. “For the rest of your motherfucking life, Bella.”
“Find the nearest cliff and pitch yourself from it, Satan!”
The faint sound of laughter travels up the steps with me.
Upstairs is one large room. There’s a railing that spans the opposite side so one can look down upon the entire cabin. While standing at the top of the stairs, my eyes sweep the room.
No weapons, unless you count a crusty old duvet that has seen more than three of my lifetimes. Pillows. Flat, hard pillows. I could challenge him to a fight. Tale goose feathers could burst through and gouge him in the eye. I’m smiling. Why am I smiling at my devious, although absurd, plan?
I eye the old-school alarm clock, then snort. “Gina, this is not the play yard in elementary school. No fighting cheating-ass men.”
Inside is a bathroom. Imaginary germs travel the length of my arms at the sight of a tub and toilet sporting matching dirt rings. Yanking toilet paper from the roll nailed to the side of the vanity, I pinch open the cupboard at my feet.
Beady red eyes shine up at me. A rat bares its teeth, sending me reeling on my ass.
“Ahhhh . . . ahhh!” I scamper to my bare feet. I’m clutching the top of the railing when Santino grabs my arms.
“What is it, Bella?”
“It’s a rat.It’s a rat!”I stamp my feet, clinging tightly to him. Revenge forgotten. “Kill it, Santino, pleaseeeee!”
His hands frame my face. He’s speaking to me in Italian, in a firm, soothing tone. With a shaking finger, I point to the bathroom.
“That fucking rat’s ass is bigger than mine. Be careful.”
“Be careful, okay.” Santino’s head tilts. The look he gives me would have me smiling from ear to ear, but my phobia has my skin crawling.
“Don’t be sarcastic, Santi, that fucker’s huge!”
He strokes my cheek, his eyes falling over me. “Should we, or should I . . .”
“Oh,” I lick my lips apprehensively. One of my arms is wrapped around Santino’s bulging bicep. I weigh my options, then let him go. What if that thing runs out and zips my direction with its vampire fangs?
41
Santino
Had I known of The Grinch’s irrational fear of rodents, all our worries would’ve been resolved a long time ago. With beautiful brown eyes of the highest clarity, my reflection is clear in her gaze. My eyes begin to hood, glazing over by lust. My dream is standing before me in her panties and bra.
Gina gasps. “Stop!”
I capture her mouth, catching her bottom lip through my teeth. My tongue fights to dictate her sweet mouth. I clasp her ass, squeezing hard enough for the little defiant love to get the memo. She places her legs around me, her arms slowly following, encircling the back of my neck.
Okay, kill the rodent, then slaughter her gorgeous, sweet pussy. I place her on the center of the bed.
“You’re safe here, Bella.”
“Safe?” Gina forks trembling fingers through her curls; this time not moved by fear but the heat between us. “Oh—yeah, hurry up! Get the rat!”
“I will.” I stroll toward the bathroom, prepared to be her hero, however small the deed. In the bathroom, nothing looks out of place.
“In the cabinet! It’s huge!”
I grab the plunger, prepared to bludgeon it when I lay my eyes on what’s not a rat, or its mouse cousin. The bloated possum is seated on its tail. It’s full from eating strawberry-scented detergent. I open the window, clutching the possum by its neck, and toss him out.
I call out, “All done.”
“You killed it?”
