A Costa, huh? I looked over at the truck on the other side of the curved brick driveway, which had one of Italy’s iconic pine trees at the center. Bianca had said that tree always reminded her of something from a Dr. Seuss book, tall and skinny with a thick canopy of needles high up.
And there went my heart. Hammering. Hard. Heavy. Fast.
“That’s Hudson’s. Constantine must’ve invited him to dinner,” I shared, knowing she was about to ask some follow-up questions to that.
“Why does that name sound familiar?”
I arched a brow. “Our first kiss was in his office.”
Her mouth rounded in surprise. “The bar. Right.” She looked back to the house when asking, “And why would Constantine ask him to come when you need to tell your parents about Bianca?”
“Because Hudson was with us the day we murdered her killer.” I closed my eyes. “Well, who we thought was her killer.”
EIGHTEEN
Enzo
“Really? I mean, I knew you were friends, but I didn’t realize you were that close.”
She looked slightly panicky. Frantic even. Because deep down, she was pure and innocent. And as much as she wanted to be here, she would never be the type to light the match for me if I needed to burn down someone’s world. Not that I wanted that to change about her. No, she was the type who saved spiders and let them outside. She didn’t revenge kill or seek payback against her enemies. Not that she had any, thank God. She was the light that I desperately wished I could stay in, but as much as I tried, the darkness always seemed to find me.
I tossed my hands through my hair, deciding how much to share, when my mom appeared on the front porch just beneath the overhang.
“Hudson was in the navy like Constantine,” I began. “But then his mom got sick, so he left after his eighth year. He took care of her until she died a few months later, and then he decided to join the FBI. He went to Quantico. Landed a position at the New York field office, too.” I rattled off the facts as quickly as possible, and her eyes widened with every detail.
Yeah, fun fact, an FBI agent had been with us when we committed a crime.
“Is that how you knew so many details about her case? Well, what you thought were details, I guess.”
I shook my head. “Feds don’t usually get called in to murders unless they happen on federal land or are somehow connected to . . . well, FBI things.” I wasn’t too privy to the inner workings of the Bureau, and I didn’t care to know. The feds weren’t cool with people like me who took justice into their own hands. “So no, Hudson couldn’t help in that department. He just wanted justice for Bianca. And he believed the court trial was bullshit, too.”
“But he’s not in the FBI anymore, right? I mean, I don’t think an agent would own a bar.” She shrugged. “But what do I know?”
“No, he, uh, quit shortly after we killed that man. He was pretty messed up about it.”
“But you said you and your brothers were arrested. Not him?”
I looked back at the front porch, and my mom waved us over as Izzy appeared at her side. And God, she resembled Bianca more and more. It fucking hurt to look at her sometimes.
“No,” I said, clearing my throat, “he wasn’t identified as being part of it, and we sure as hell didn’t give up his name. Probably part of the reason he felt guilty and quit the Bureau.” I didn’t know all the details because he’d always been much closer to Constantine. “We should go in. They’re waiting.” And with that, I shut off the engine and grabbed our suitcases that I’d crammed behind our seats since sending those guards home.
Once outside, it dawned on me Maria was still hesitant to go in. She was a horrible liar, which was an admirable trait in my opinion, so she was clearly worried about how to answer any questions she knew would be waiting for her.
She spun around, knocking into me, and I let go of the bags to catch her forearms, forgetting we had eyes on us. “What story did you give them as to why I’m here?”
“I gave them the partial truth. I explained your ex has Chiara until Sunday, and it’s hard on you, so you asked if you could join me on my trip. I guess they don’t need to know that Thomas is a psycho and his plans changed, and you’re here just to be a stubborn pain in my ass now.”
“I detect no sarcasm where there should be at the end of that sentence, mister.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that, damn her.
“And if I’m a pain, then good. Maybe you deserve it.” Worry lines cut across her forehead as she asked, “You didn’t tell them that we’re . . . well, you know?” That innocent tilt of her head as she searched for the words had my heart beating harder yet again.