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J ulia drove home and turned into the driveway.

She hadn’t heard from Marshal Torti or Detective Malloy, and she’d driven with an eye on the rearview mirror, making sure she wasn’t followed.

She hated leaving Gianluca. She didn’t know if they were communicating mentally or if she was under the drug’s influence, but it didn’t matter now.

What mattered was that Gianluca had to survive.

Julia pulled up in front of the villa and cut the ignition. The car’s powerful engine rumbled into silence. She grabbed her purse, got out, and went for her keys on the way to the door, then remembered she hadn’t locked up last night, having rushed out after the call about Gianluca’s accident.

Damn. Julia felt nervous coming home to an unlocked house. She opened the door cautiously and looked around. The villa seemed still and quiet, and Bianco was sleeping in the center hall. Relieved, she entered, crossed to him, and gave him a pat. He roused, blinking, then went back to sleep.

She was heading for the kitchen when she heard a noise upstairs. She froze. She waited for the noise to come again. Maybe she was mistaken. Or maybe White Fiat and Ballcap hadn’t followed her because they were here, waiting for her.

Bam. Julia heard it again. Someone was upstairs. Then she heard footsteps coming from her bedroom.

Her heart started to pound. Her mind raced, planning her next move. It didn’t make sense to run back to the car. She was closer to the kitchen. The gun was on the kitchen counter.

In the next moment she heard footsteps in the upstairs hallway, a heavy tread approaching the stairwell.

She tiptoed into the kitchen and grabbed the gun.

The footsteps moved to the stairs.

Her heart jumped to her throat. She raised the gun and backed up against the back door. She tried to undo the latch behind her but couldn’t. She didn’t try again because she didn’t want to make a sound. Whoever was upstairs must have heard the engine noise.

The footsteps reached the top of the stairs, a heavy tread. He was coming for her. She would have to defend herself.

Julia slid her finger onto the trigger. Her hand trembled. She didn’t know if she could fire.

One, two, three , she counted, to the footsteps descending the stair.

A shadow appeared in the entrance hall, cast by whoever was coming down.

Four, five, six. He was almost at the bottom of the staircase.

Julia told herself to wait. She would have to hit him with the first shot. He would be armed, too. She wouldn’t get a second chance.

Julia took aim.

The figure came into view.

Julia started to press the trigger.