Dirty Lies

BLOOD

The long wooden boardwalk into the swamp seemed to stretch for miles. Dense green foliage pressed up against both sides of the waist-high wooden rail, and I fought back a wave of revulsion.

God, I hated nature. It was so out of control, so untamed, so claustrophobic. Especially in this damn heat.

"You never imagine Florida being like this," Gianni remarked. "You think of the sand and water, of Disney, of clubs on South Beach. This is actually pretty cool."

I stopped to read from a wooden sign. "Says here it's an eighth of a mile to the river."

"Let's do it. You okay in those heels? I just didn't want to go to either of our hotel rooms. Didn't want to attract unnecessary attention."

I smiled. "I'm fine."

Of course, I was far from fine.

It was so quiet in the swamp that I jumped every time I heard the buzz of a mosquito. We were seemingly the only visitors in the park. Which made sense, because it was two in the afternoon and hotter than fuck. No sane person would be out at midday in a Florida swamp in August.

Gianni peered over the side of the railing, and I wondered why he didn't mind that his blue soccer jersey was touching moldy-looking wood.

"Look, it's water under here. Hey, check out that big white bird!"

He pointed, mouth agape, and I sneered. The hitman was a bird-lover. Wonderful. I wanted to roll my eyes but didn't dare. Birds creeped me out. Gianni creeped me out.

I scratched the back of my neck nervously as we walked. It felt like a thousand bugs were crawling across my skin, ready to suck my blood.

Stifling a sigh, I hitched my purse a little higher on my shoulder, stopped at the edge and pretended to look over but groped in my bag for a tissue. Something in this awful place was making my nose run.

Maybe I was allergic to nature.

"How did Bruno track Luca to Florida, anyway?" I called out. My voice seemed especially quiet against the ambient noise of the swamp. A dragonfly the size of a bird buzzed my face and I stifled a yelp.

"It took us a while, but we figured out how to hack into his Skype. When he called his uncle, we kind of figured he was headed here. I guess Luca needs his long-lost uncle after all, eh? Probably because Federico's rich as fuck."

I laughed, angry at myself for bringing this on Luca. On me. "And then Bruno made a point of telling his crazy, obsessive cousin that Luca might be in Miami, and boom! Problem solved."

Gianni laughed too. "I'm sorry. I know you loved Luca at one time. I'm sorry we're going to have to kill him after he testifies. But you were going to do that anyway, weren't you? Once you found him and fucked him, no?"

No. I wasn't going to kill him. I was going to love him. But I couldn't tell Gianni that.

"Of course. I want him dead for what he did to me. Breaking my heart. Stronzo."

We walked in silence for a while, the sound of my heels clacking against the wood.

Gianni's steps were silent, but he inhaled loudly. "This is nice. Thank you. I needed a little bit of peace and quiet to take the edge off. It was a stressful flight. Bruno made me fly coach, and the drive here from Miami was brutal."

Was the hitman whining about flying coach? Christ.

We reached the end of the boardwalk. It was a wide, wooden platform overlooking a tea-colored river. It smelled earthy and a bit like rotten eggs. The river didn't seem to be moving much, and bugs buzzed the surface. I pressed my hand to my mouth and swallowed a gag. Everything was making me sick.

How am she going to stop Gianni from taking Luca away from me?

Without touching the wood, I peered over the edge of the rail and grimaced when I spotted a swimming turtle. Gianni walked to the other side of the platform, near an opening in the railing where a ladder led down and into to the murky brown river. I glanced at him, then the sign.

LADDER FOR RESEARCH PURPOSES ONLY. DO NOT CLIMB.

What kind of idiot would climb into that water?

"Holy shit, Annalisa! It's a huge alligator. I gotta get a photo of this. Those bastards back home won't believe it."

By the time he pulled out his phone, swiped it with his finger, and knelt on his knees over the ladder, I had slipped my feet out of my strappy sandals. I swiveled my head, looking for other people. My hearing seemed attuned to every rustle of every leaf, and I could only hear the horrific silence of nature.

I had to do it.

When he lifted his phone to snap a picture, I already had my hand on what I needed. I crept toward him as he turned his phone horizontal and vertical, shooting at different angles. He was in an all-fours position, stretching his neck out over the water, except one of his hands grasped the phone, pointing it downward.

"It's so big I can't get all of it in the frame. Look at this thing!"

Bending over him, as if I were looking into the water, I reached down. Noticed that his bald head was shiny with sweat.

Touched the knife to his throat.

Pressed hard.

Sliced.

It was like cutting into a giant steak, difficult at first and then gristly and squishy. He dropped the phone in the water and protested briefly with a few stammered words. Flailing, his hands at his throat, he tried to clutch at the wound, but his skin was so split open that he gasped and crumpled onto his belly.

I stepped back. Stopped breathing. At least until I knew he had taken his final breath.

I'd never seen so much blood. Never knew it could spurt and gush with such force. Like a man's orgasm.

Mesmerized, I watched the blood seep into the wood of the walkway, through the cracks of the boards, onto his shirt. I watched him the whole time. He gurgled and flailed, and after a while, his eyes fluttered.

Dropping to my knees, I grunted as I pushed Gianni toward the edge of the boardwalk. Wow, was he heavy. I managed to push, tug and push some more, and finally, I sent his thick body tumbling into the murky river with a splash. I peered after it, watching his blood swirl into the disgusting, tannin-colored water.

Nearby, the alligator floated ominously, its bulging eyes watching me.

I picked up my sandals and stuffed them in my purse. I looked down. And I thought Skylar's coffee had ruined my pants! Gianni's blood was so red, so bright, against my white jeans. Almost like a candy cane at Christmas.

A plan gelled in my mind. If I could make it out of this awful park, I'd strip to my black lingerie in the car and wrap a towel around my waist as if I'd just been to the beach.

I walked away quickly, then ran and ran, my feet slapping the wooden boardwalk.

The green thicket of jungle on either side threatened to crush me.

____