Page 48 of Ruthless Sin

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“He’s already on it.”

“Of course he is.”

Marco leaves.

I close the folder.

I sit down at the desk.

Pushkin is open to the same page it’s been on since the week started. I haven’t moved past it.

The surveillance is tightening. She hummed through her door for days after I started leaving mine open.

I look at the Pushkin. I don’t read it.

My bedroom is at the other end of the house. I haven’t closed that door since the night she crossed.

I look back at the folder.

I open it again.

11

MILA

Two soft knocks at the door.

“Car’s ready,ma fille.”

I’m already dressed when the knock comes, the folding knife in the pocket of the sweater, my hand on the door before Maria finishes speaking.

Maria looks at me. Then at the door across the hall. Then back at me.

“You sleep alright?”

The Cajun is thicker than usual. She’s fighting a smile and losing.

“Grand-mère got the thermos going. You want I walk you down?”

I don’t answer.

She presses her lips together. Her eyes are bright.

“Mm-hm.”

One sound. She turns and walks toward the back stairs, her shoulders shaking.

I follow.

Nonna Rosa is at the stove, her back to me. The household pot is going. The thermos is on the marble.

“Bread in the cloth,cher. Take it. Take one for Sofia.”

I take the bread.

She turns. Her gaze moves down my face, my neck, the line of my shoulders.

“Cher.You got some color back.”

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