I whisper, not because I’m scared. Not because I’m concerned. But because the mood deserves a whisper.
Gianni’s passing deserves respect.
He gulps. “I-I can’t not.”
“You don’t have to justify,” I murmur, as I slide my hands over his, rubbing our fingers together and joining them in a tight clasp. “I understand.”
“How can you? You’re light, you’re—” He buries his face in the crook of my throat.
“I’m yours. I’m what you need me to be.”
Even if that makes me an accomplice.
I turn my head to the side. “We can do this. But first, you need to wash up. You have a service to—”
“I don’t want to do it.”
“You must. Do it in Gianni’s honor.” I get the feeling he has to do something, and just waiting around here would do him no good.
It’s not like we could just storm wherever Corelli holes up. We have to plan, but he’s in no frame of mind for planning.
He needs the calm that comes from doing something by muscle memory alone. A service will be simple for him. It would take his thoughts away, allow him to focus, and then, when he’s done, we will plan.
Because we’ve got a mobster to slay.
“Gianni didn’t deserve that, Andrea.”
His mumbled words have me reaching up to touch his hair with my wet fingers. He was pristine this morning. Looking like innocence itself in his priest garb and dog collar. Now, with his hair mussed, his shirt bloodstained, and his jacket in the trash after he’d used it to stop Gianni’s bleeding, he’s actually in a state I prefer.
He’s a man.
Not a priest.
My man.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
My whisper has him tensing. “He wasn’t a good man, not in all ways. He used to disappear, then would return flush with cash, and I knew he was involved with drugs.”
“I wonder if he took something or—”
“Either way, to leave him to bleed out like a pig on the street? I can’t...” He gulps. “He can’t be allowed to continue.”
Slowly, I murmur, “No.”
“You’re not going to try and stop me?”
I bite my bottom lip. “Would you let me?”
He releases a shaky breath. “Probably.”
His admission soothes me. It’s like a warm hug. “Only God can help me now.”
He tenses and leans away to look at me, frowning all the while. “Gianni’s last words?”
“Linda, the lady who I helped who died, she said them too.” My gaze turns distant as I think back to another time, another place. A different world for me. One where I was...
I sigh.
What was I?
I’m not exactly normal now, am I? But my brain doesn’t have the same pressure on it as before, so I have to think my reasoning is sounder than it once was.
The doctors said the cyst made me a risk taker, made me impulsive and more prone to doing stupid stuff.
I wonder what they’d blame this episode with Savio on?
Brain damage from the trauma of surgery?
My lips twist at the thought, but it’s a good thing to remember. If we ever get caught...
“She said those words?” he repeats slowly.
I shrug, thinking he’s saying I’m dumb. “I’ve never heard that phrasing before.”
His frown deepens. “I don’t think I have either.”
“Not in confession? Sheesh. God’s your world, not mine.”
He snorts. “Yes, very much my world.”
I reach up, tug on his ear slightly, and mutter, “You’ve really never heard that particular phrasing before?”
Savio shakes his head. “No. Variants, maybe, but—”
“I think it’s a sign,” I blurt out.
“Not everything is a sign,” he tells me gently, like he thinks I’m crazy again.
“This is. Two deaths, two precursors to those deaths with that phrasing in my presence?” I shudder. “It’s meant to be.”
His brow furrows, and for a second, I can tell he’s not sure what to make of me. I’m giving him what he wants—not arguing with his need to take out the capo like the trash he is. But, also, I’m giving him a reason he doesn’t want to hear.
“God doesn’t send signs like that,” he rasps.
“He didn’t. But maybe he knows what’s in your heart and mine. Maybe this is his way of absolving you.”
Savio winces. “Hardly—”
“You’d have killed without thought before. Now it’s sanctioned.” My tone is resolute, as is my resolve. Each word pounds through me, forcing me to believe more than I did at the start.
Those words were the beginning of my journey.
They were the catalyst that led me to this point.
To him.
And now?
This is the next phase of our lives.
He’s already said he doesn’t want to be a priest anymore. But for this to