Page 6 of Lethal Bliss

“I’m fine,” I tell her and raise my shirt so she can see the vest. “We aren’t going to any hospital.”

“But you’ve been—oh. You’re…” she nods her head in realization.

Although the night isn’t far spent, the streets on this side of the city don’t have much traffic. This makes it possible for me to keep my foot on the gas pedal. The car eats up the asphalt greedily, as quickly as its blackness leaps at us.

“Listen to me,” I tell Flora. “The men who came for you tonight are cops.” I knew the moment I heard the voices. It was easy to recognize them: Jacob Slattery, Lucas Milton, and Donald Brown, all officers serving under Raymond Carter.

The bastards.

“What?!” Flora is staring at me wide-eyed. Her eyes are a startling blue, so big you can easily drown in them. They’re dark with fear now and somewhat wet with hysteria.

“Yes.” It all makes sense now. “They know who you are, so they know where you live. You can’t go back to your house this night. They’ll kill you.”

“Kill me?” Flora asks. “Why?”

“Because of what you know. You saw them kill your friend… look, I’ll explain later. Just do exactly what I tell you right now. That’s the only way you’ll stay alive.”

Thankfully, she nods in acquiescence.

“Good.” I heave a sigh of relief. “Now I’m going to drive us to a place I know where we can—”

“I just have one question,” Flora cuts in. “Who the hell are you?”

I take a deep breath and exhale in frustration. Things were much better back in the motel room when I was simply barking orders at her and the informant she’d come to see.

“What were you doing there tonight?” she asks. “How did you know those cops— those men were coming for me?”

“They were following you.” That’s the only plausible explanation I can think of now. They must have already been tailing her before I slipped in behind her.

“Following me?” she asks incredulously.

I brake and swing the car right at the next intersection.

“Where are we going?” Flora asks.

“A safe house,” I reply. “They won’t find us there.”

“Us…” I watch as she tastes the word, considers it, and decides she doesn’t like it. “You still haven’t told me who you are.”

It takes only a moment to make the decision to tell her. It’s probably a decision I’ll regret in the near future. Nevertheless, I need her help right now, and the easiest way to get it is to be forthright with her. “My name is Enzo Agnelli. Franklin Benetti is my godfather.”

Her brows furrow, and her eyes narrow to slits. “TheFranklin Benetti?” she asks.

“Yes,” I confirm. “I was at the motel because I’m investigating Raymond Carter’s death. Franklin didn’t murder him. He’s innocent of that charge. I’m trying to prove it, and I may need your help to do that.”

For a moment, she’s silent. There’s no way to figure out what she’s thinking because my eyes are on the road as I navigate the car through gradually increasing traffic. We’re pulling away from the suburbs and moving toward the city center.

“I can’t guarantee that I’ll help you prove that your godfather’s innocent,” Flora says finally. “But I can promise that I’ll help you to find out the truth.”

That’s better than any answer I’d hoped for.

CHAPTER 4

Flora

Thesafe house is smack-dab in the city center. It’s in the basement of an office building in the Business Improvement District, the last place anybody would think of looking if you’re in search of a fleeing caporegime.

There’s a lounge equipped with a television, plush leather sofas, and a work station on its fringes lined up with curved desktops. Cream and pale blue marble tiles stretch across the room to a rugged area with a king-sized bed on one side and a kitchen on the opposite side.