Page 41 of A Murder of Crows

I have to close my eyes. I don’t know what to do with the look in his face, how to respond to the burning in his eyes. But my breath catches as soft lips press against mine. He tastes like cherries, like the gum he has a sneaky preference for that he thinks I don’t know about.

Something uniquely Domenico.

Familiar and new at the same time.

“Don’t fucking die,” he whispers against my mouth. “And lock your doors.”

When I open my eyes again, he’s gone.

Dramatic, overprotective bastard.

But my fingers still reach up to touch my lips anyway.

Chapter twenty Caterina

In a move that would probably make Dom drop dead from shock, I opt to lie low for the next few days. I eat my meals in the apartment, skip training, work from the little office in the back instead of heading to the building set aside for our use.

I don’t admit that I miss my enforcer. That it feels like my left arm is missing without him here.

Two men try to break in on the first night Dom is gone. Tony and Vincent call me apologetically out of bed, and I don’t tell them that I wasn’t sleeping anyway.

These two have no knives on them. Just rope.

I strip them myself and send them back to Giovanni, hog-tied and red-faced, a note around their necks.

I believe these belong to you.

Any further lost property will be disposed of.

Nobody tries on the second night, but that could be because I already have an uninvited visitor.

I’m making coffee when the telltale creak of movement sounds outside. It takes me a moment to check the cameras, to see the familiar silhouette, and for anger to rise in my stomach.

Dante gives me a slow smile when I rip the door open. “What the fuck are you doing here, Dante?”

He stretches his arms above his head. “Guard duty. All agreed with your own personal guard dog,tentazione. I wouldn’t mind a coffee if there’s one going.”

The slamming of the door in his face is the only answer I give, my fingers already flying as I type out a message to Dom.

Are you and Dante working together?

The dots bubble up, and then disappear again. My feet tread a path past the front door and back again, until the phone vibrates in my hand.

We have a mutual interest. Behave.

I nearly choke on my own tongue.

You hate each other.

Well, maybe we like you more. Why aren’t you sleeping?

I check the time, swearing when I realize it’s after two.

I woke up because he was making so much noise with his elephant feet.

His response comes a second later.

Liar.