Darkest Sins (Perfectly Imperfect #9)

Chapter 8

“I’m coming down in a minute, Dania,” I say into the phone as I rummage through the closet, searching for my other red heel. “But just a heads up, I can’t stay long. I still haven’t finished my paper that’s due next week.”

“What’s it about? Treating constipation in goats?” She giggles.

“Very funny.”

“Are they really going to teach you how to deliver piglets and things like that?”

I spy the shoe in the corner and pull it out. “Probably. Where are you parked?”

“Just out front.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in a sec.”

I put on my shoes and head to the mirror to take a quick look. The black bandeau dress Zara made for me is strapless and reaches halfway to my knees. I wore it two weeks ago to a cocktail party my father hosted, but it’s the only one that doesn’t need ironing. It’ll do. After grabbing my purse and coat, I open the front door and stop in my tracks. Tied in a bow to the handle on the other side of the door is a length of red silk. My heartbeat speeds up as I gape at the scarf, so similar to the one I used tostop the bleeding on my long-haired stranger. The one he took with him. Did he leave this? I look right then left down the long hallway, but there is no one there. My eyes drift back to the knob, and I reach out to untie the scarf. It’s not the same as the one he pocketed, but I have no doubt it was him who left the replacement.

I probably should be concerned, considering that a strange man knows where I live. And, I guess, I am a little bit. But I’m also feeling something else. Excitement.

Despite my reckless actions that have set this whole thing in motion, I’m not completely clueless. The man was shot! And, it happened on the night when all those people were killed. Was it him? A witness pointing to a long-haired man heading to that building complex isn’t proof, but somehow, Iknowhe was responsible. I should probably ask my dad to assign someone outside my building. Or even better, I should sell this place and find another apartment.

But then . . . I run the scarf through my fingers and gather my hair at the back of my neck, tying it with red silk.

* * *

“Are you going to Romina’s bachelorette party?” Dania asks as we make our way to the table at the far side of the pub where two of our friends are waiting.

“I’m not sure,” I say, trying to hide a yawn and failing miserably. I’ve pulled an all-nighter studying, so I’m dead tired. “Zara has a math test next week, and I promised to help her this weekend. She failed the last one.”

“Oh. And . . . how is she?”

I bite my lower lip so I don’t lash out at my friend. I hate it when people speak about my sister as if there’s something wrong with her. “Fine.”

“So, she still doesn’t want to socialize? I have to admit, I was rather surprised she came with us to a karaoke night.”

“If my sister doesn’t want to go out, it’s her choice. You have a problem with that?”

“Whoa, girl. I didn’t mean . . .”

“I know.” I offer her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. The first round is on me, okay?”

“You bet.”

I hang my coat over the back of the chair, then wave over a waiter before leaning over the table to give each of my girlfriends a peck on the cheek. Romina launches into recounting her bachelorette party plans right away, and I can’t help but feel a bit of envy. Romina’s dad works in one of Cosa Nostra’s casinos, but he’s not high enough within the hierarchy to be considered a major player. She’s marrying for love, not because she needs to sacrifice herself for the sake of the Family. I may still have a few years of freedom left, but the knowledge of what awaits me all too soon hangs above my head like the sword of Damocles.

We need to show our fake IDs before the waiter agrees to take our orders. If we had gone to one of the Cosa Nostra-owned bars, no one would have dared to card me, but I don’t frequent those too often. If anyone from the Family spotted me at a bar without a bodyguard, they would contact the don straight away. Dad would then call to give me a lecture for being irresponsible and send two goons to follow me around for the rest of the evening.

As I reach for the mojito the waiter sets on the table, a strange feeling overtakes me. It feels like thousands of tiny little needles are pricking the exposed skin at my nape. It’s the same sensation I’ve been occasionally having for months, but it’s never been this strong before.

I rub my palms over the back of my neck and throw a quick look around. Dania and the girls are still gabbing about Romina’s party, discussing who’ll wear what. The group at the table on our left is laughing as one of the guys entertains everyone with a story, his arms waving wildly all over the place. It’s the same all around—people are just talking and having a great time. About a dozen men are sitting at the bar, a few look fairly wasted. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, but still, I can’t shake the sense that somethingisdifferent. I just can’t figure out what.

“Nera?” Romina nudges me with her elbow. “Will you be coming with us?”

I try to snap out of it and take a sip of my mojito. “Where to?”

“To shop for shoes. I need something that will go with my outfit for the rehearsal dinner. We’re going tomorrow afternoon.”

“Can’t. I need to finish my paper on the role of regulatory agencies in veterinary practice.”