Dirty Lies

ALL APOLOGIES

I sat in the too-small room, elbows propped on the table, head in my hands.

If Skylar lived, if she still wanted me after this whole fucking mess, I'd stay with her until my last breath. Just thinking about her alone and in the hospital made me almost hyperventilate with regret. She knew everything. About my book, my parents, and my morally questionable past with women.

And my ex-girlfriend tried to kill her. Don't forget that detail.

She'd never want me now.

It was bad enough the paramedics and cops didn't let me go to the ER with her, but now I felt like a criminal here in the police station. And helpless, because I couldn't just leave and be at her side. I had to wait until Federico arrived, and then however long it would take to spring me. Would I have to spend the night in jail?

I ran my hands through my hair for the millionth time.

Was Skylar okay? She'd been unconscious when the paramedics took her away, and no one at the police station would tell me how she was, regardless of how many times I demanded and pleaded. Instead, a detective had endless questions about why I'd struck Annalisa with the gun. How I knew her. Whose gun it was. Why she was in Skylar's house.

She deserved to die, is what I wanted to say. But I didn't. Instead, I insisted on calling my uncle. Or father. Or whatever Federico was.

I rolled my eyes and sighed into the empty room. I wasn't about to tell the cops Federico Rossi, the well-known attorney on the TV commercials, was my father and the person who had given me the gun. Probably illegally, I realized now. Thankfully, Federico had returned from his afternoon on the yacht and answered my call.

"Don't say a word to that detective," he'd growled, hours ago, and I'd stayed silent since. But being alone with my thoughts and guilt in a sparse interview room at a police station was my personal hell.

The door swung open. Federico stepped in, looking fresh and jaunty in a white polo shirt, khaki pants, and tan boat shoes, followed by a man in a police uniform. Federico had a hand on the cop's shoulder.

"Luca, I want you to meet someone. This is Chief Judson. We just had a nice talk, and you're free to go. Come on."

I stood, incredulous. Federico seemed to act as though this was a social call. I shook the chief's hand.

"It turns out that girl you knocked unconscious with your gun was our suspect in that Palmira Preserve homicide," the chief said. "We found the victim's prints in her rental car, and we have video surveillance of them in the parking lot of the preserve. The two of them went into the preserve, but she was the only one who came out. Perfectly matches his time of death too."

I swallowed. It was still difficult to believe little Annalisa would slash the throat of a Mafia hitman. "She's crazier than I thought," I muttered.

"That's for damn sure," the chief said. "Anyway, you're free to go. We're not going to charge you. You hit her in self-defense. Hell, you would have been justified in shooting her."

I thanked him and shook his hand again. I wasn't about to ask why I wasn't being charged for possession of the weapon, or why I wasn't being questioned about my potential ties to Gianni.

Florida was such a strange place. And although part of me wanted Annalisa dead, Skylar had been right. Retribution, violence, vigilante justice—they were all things I abhorred. In my darkest moment, poised to kill another human being, Skylar had forced me to be a better man. Once again. To stay true to what was in my heart.

I loved her for that. And for a million other reasons. I needed to tell her. If she was well enough to listen. If she even wanted me anymore. All I could think of was the hurt in Skylar's eyes when Annalisa forced me to reveal what a dick I'd been.

Zombie-like, I followed Federico out of the police station and into the parking lot. Federico smiled grimly and clapped me on the back.

"Did I ever mention I donated bulletproof vests to the Palmira Police Department? I even donated vests for their police dogs."

I snorted a laugh as I opened the passenger door of the Mercedes. While I'd before suspected my uncle's business and political dealings danced on the razor-thin edge of unethical behavior, in that moment, I was grateful for his savvy.

He slid into the driver's seat and looked at me expectantly. "Where to?"

"Federico, I owe you an apology. And a thank you."

My eyes searched the older man's face, looking for anger or annoyance. I didn't find anything but kindness. Maybe Skylar was right. I should get to know this man. My father.

"No, Luca, you don't owe me anything. You've been through too much. It's a fucked up situation, our family. As is this episode with the girl from Italy. We'll talk about it later. Let's just try to move forward, okay? Unless you're going to leave, and then we can part as friends."

I shook my head. "If it's okay with you, I'd like to stay here on Palmira. At least until Bruno's trial is over. Maybe longer. And I need to go to the hospital now."

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