The Heart of a Killer

“Do you have any idea why he would have had drugs in his pocket?” Anna asked. “Maybe one of the foster kids was mixed up in drugs and he was interceding on their behalf?”

Ellen shook her head. “No. None of the boys staying with us have drug-related issues. I can’t think of any reason he’d be involved in that. George was strict about no drugs in this house. You took drugs or brought any into this house, you were in deep trouble with him. He’d personally call the police on one of the kids if he found drugs. For him to be found with drugs—” her eyes watered “—it’s an insult to his memory.”

“We’re all pretty sure it was a setup, Ellen,” Gabe said, laying his hands on her shoulders. “The police will get it figured out.”

She grabbed for a tissue. “But in the meantime, they’ll put in the record that he was found with drugs on him. And that doesn’t sit well with me. George would be so hurt by that.”

She shuddered out a sob, and Dante wanted to make this all go away. He wanted to back up one more day, get here sooner. He wanted to stop all this from happening.

Could he have?

Dante didn’t want to leave Ellen, but she said her two younger sisters were coming over. There were funeral plans to be made, and he didn’t want to get in the way. They all took their leave with the arrival of her sisters. Dante promised to come back tomorrow. She grabbed him in a fierce hug.

“Don’t disappear.”

He kissed her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. And if you need me—for anything—you call.”

She pulled back, her eyes shimmering with tears. “I will.”

They all walked outside, and Dante looked up at the clear sky. God, it was still hot out, and he had no idea what time it was.

Late.

Roman and Anna were huddled near his car, whispering. Arguing. Roman finally took off, and so did Gabe, leaving the two of them together.

Anna was about to get into her car, but Dante headed her off.

“Anna.”

Her head shot up and she pinned him with a glare, but didn’t say anything.

He’d forgotten how beautiful her eyes were. As a teenager, she’d been so pretty with her hair always in a ponytail, her face shaped like a heart, her skin dark in the Italian way, her eyes the color of the finest whiskey. And her mouth—he’d never truly been able to appreciate her mouth, with her full bottom lip that begged for the tugging of a man’s teeth.

He hadn’t been quite a man yet, hadn’t had the time to fully appreciate Anna, never got to see her blossom into a woman.

She was so pretty at sixteen. Now? She could stop traffic.

It had been a rough night. The kind of night when a man thought about grabbing what he wanted before it was too late.

He’d denied himself what he wanted for a long damn time. Things like home. Family.

Anna.

His jeans tightened as she stared at him and he stared back, but he didn’t think she was lusting after him the way he lusted after her, since she was probably thinking he was guilty of some kind of crime. Or maybe she thought he was guilty of a lot of sins that had nothing to do with the murder tonight.

He probably was.

“You need something?” she asked.

Loaded question. “Not really.”

“Then I need to go. I’m busy.”

She was brushing him off.

He wasn’t going to let her.

“Anna.”

“What?”

“I haven’t seen you in twelve years. Have a cup of coffee with me.”

Three

Anna’s stomach clenched. Just being in the same vicinity as Dante Renaldi again made her dizzy. His presence brought up memories she’d shoved so far into the past she hadn’t thought about them in years.

Or tried not to think about them. Tried like hell not to think about them.

Until tonight.

Coming upon that murder scene in the alley tonight and seeing Dante had stolen every breath in her lungs, had made her legs go weak. Her first instinct had been to turn around and walk away—no, run away. She’d almost called another detective in to take the scene, but she refused. This was her job. There’d be no excuse for walking. Plus, Dante, Roman and Gabe had been there and she’d needed to know why.

She didn’t like it. It had all been too much like twelve years ago, the night humid and smelling like recent rain, the asphalt streets slick and mirrorlike as she’d driven onto the scene. She’d seen plenty of dead bodies and people standing over dead bodies since she’d been on the force, had worked plenty of crime scenes with Roman. It wasn’t until she’d spotted Dante and Gabe that the shock of awareness had hit her. The familiarity had cloaked her in heavy memories she still hadn’t been able to break free from, clouding her thoughts and jumbling her normally stellar police process. She was organized and relentless in pursuit of a case. Was this fate getting back at her for her part in what happened twelve years ago?

Fate was awfully fucked up sometimes.

“Well?”

She lifted her head, found Dante staring at her.

Losing herself in thought wasn’t like her, either.

“Well, what? I said I was busy.”

“I asked you to have a cup of coffee with me.”

“I’m on duty, Dante.”

“Later.”

“I won’t be finished for a while.”

“I’ll meet you in the morning.”

She sighed, feeling suddenly tired. “Why?”

“Because I want to talk to you.”