Page 32 of The Hitman

I reluctantly pull my hands from her body and steady her on her feet. I refuse to look down at her beautiful toes peeking out of her tall shoes. I can’t let myself get distracted by the sight. “Go. Now.”

I can see all the questions she wants to ask me in her eyes. I shake my head quickly. She presses her lips together and then turns slowly. I watch her take two shaky steps and stumble. I reach for her just as she rights herself. She was right, her shoes are inappropriate for the vineyard, and I doubt she’ll be able to run if she needs to. That thought terrifies me for a second, but I make a decision to make sure that she doesn’t have to run.

I can do that for her, at the very least.

I reach around my body to the small of my back. I take my gun from its holster and keep it at my back just in case Zahra doesn’t follow my order and turns around. I keep my eyes on her small form and watch her retreat as I release the safety on my gun.

Slowly, I move in the opposite direction.

At the edge of the row, I make sure the coast is clear, take a final look at her, and then move in the direction of the sound I’d heard.

Normally I would move slowly, cautiously, and with as little sound as possible. But not today. I whisper loudly and make as much noise as possible, hoping to draw whoever is out there to me.

And away from Zahra.

* * *

Zahra

I’m not a fool. I know what danger sounds like, and Giulio’s voice is dripping with it. What I don’t know is if he’s the thing I’m running from or not. I also don’t understand how one second he was about to fingerfuck me in a vineyard, and the next, he was telling me to run back to the tasting room. No, sorry, walk.“Whatever you do, do not run.”

It sounded like a cheesy line from one of Ryan’s movies, but it’s more believable than Ryan ever managed. It made me shiver, and not in a good way. Whatever’s happening right now is something that has Giulio on high alert, and that has me shaking with every tentative step.

I’ve watched enough movies to know that there can only be one of two things happening right now. Either zombies have invaded the vineyard, or a serial killer is on the loose. Those are the only options, I’m certain of it. Either way, I do as Giulio says.

At the end of the row, I shuffle quickly across the dirt path breaking up the rows of vines. I look left and right, but there’s no one there. Vaguely, I wonder where the hell the tour guide went. I can see the roof of the tasting room ahead of me. It feels surreal. Nothing seems wrong right now, except an eerie quiet I hadn’t noticed before.

When I dart into the next row, I exhale. I’m breathing hard even though I’m barely walking above a stroll. Nothing seems out of place besides me and my platform espadrilles, to be honest.

Maybe Giulio’s mistaken?

I turn around and think to tell him that — even though he told me not to —but he’s gone.

Oh. Well, that’s terrifying. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I can feel a small stream of sweat running down my back. I turn around and run. Well, I try to run, even though Giulio told me not to, but these shoes are not made for fleeing.

There’s only one more dirt path walkway and another row between me and the tasting room. It feels so close and yet so far away. So, of course, my scared ass tries to move faster. If I can dart across that path — without breaking my ankle — I’ll be home free, I think to myself as a comforting mantra.

And then I run right into a big, strange, hard body. The solid muscle and height of this body feels like a brick wall. I hit it and then bounce back. I hit the ground ass first, and it hurts like a bitch. So does the fact that I’ll probably never be able to get this dry earth from my formerly bright white dress.

I know this body isn’t Giulio by feel. It’s too tall, the chest is too broad, and whoever it is doesn’t catch me. Giulio would have caught me.

I’m sitting on the ground, dazed, confused, and hurting. It takes me a few moments to catch my breath and blink back the tears. I wish it took me longer because when I look up, I come eye to…eye with a gun.

I’ve never seen a gun in person before. Not a real one, at least. I should be scared, but seeing the gun — having it pointed at my head, no less — makes me feel a kind of impotent rage. I didn’t even get to taste any wine!

I know they say in movies that people’s lives flash before their eyes, but that doesn’t happen to me. I think about Zoe, though. I think about all the things I haven’t said to her, all the apologies I owe her. I even think I’d do anything to see her again. To have her suck her teeth, roll her eyes, and tell me she told me so one more time. And that thought makes me angrier. Whoever the fuck this man with a gun is, isn’t going to rob me of the chance to make up with my older sister.

“Dov’è?” he barks at me.

I jump and blink.

“Dov’è?”

“I don’t speak Italian,” I scream.

I think Zoe would appreciate me not going out like a scared bitch, even though Iama scared bitch right now. I also think she’d like Giulio, not that it matters right now. Well, correction, Zoe would like me letting some fine ass Italian man feel me up in the vineyard. She would smile at me, nod, and tell me that’s “a whole vibe.” She’s a horny idiot, and I love her. I haven’t told her that enough.

The man starts yelling as he starts toward me with slow steps, and it shocks me out of my anger.