Page 41 of Redemption

“No,” I whimper. “I’ll tell you. But you have to promise never to tell anyone else. Ever. You’ll understand.”

She narrows her eyes. “I’m listening.”

I swallow hard. How can I put all this on my friend? I’ve tried so hard to spare everyone. “Remember a couple of weeks back? What I told you David had said?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“And I asked his dad.”

She nods.

“That was the biggest mistake of my life.”

Chloe doesn’t move or speak; the air is getting hard to breathe. My heart slams in my chest and I have to fight to not succumb to panic.

“He sent someone after me.”

She frowns.

“To kill me.”

“Oh my God,” she gasps. “What?”

“That was the guy I met. Turned out I dated my own assassin.” Nausea rises in me as I say it.

My friend looks aghast. “Kerry!”

I look down on my battered hands. Bruises covering the knuckles. Palms scraped, little pebbles still in the wounds, some of them a little infected.

“He fucked me. I let him. I thought we had something. I thought he was special.” I laugh bitterly. “Then he drugged me, kidnapped me and tried to shoot me. I fought back. I shot him.” I fight not to fall into the dark vortex that always opens beneath me as I relive these moments. “I don’t know if I killed him,” I add with a whisper, my voice not carrying the words.

I jerk when her hand touches my shoulder.

“Don’t tell anyone,” I whisper.

“But you have to go to the police!”

“Luciano Salvatore ordered my murder. I live on borrowed time. I’ll live on borrowed time for the rest of my life. If he figures out you know, you will too. There’s nothing that will come between him and what he wants, Chloe. The cops won’t be able to protect you. Your whole family will be in danger. You cannottalk. Do you understand? You’ll sentence yourself to a certain death.”

“Salvatore? David’s dad?” Chloe slumps, pinching the bridge of her nose. “How can you be so sure?”

“I am. I’ve faced his hitman. I know.”

“What do you want me to do? How can I help you?”

I stare at her, then at my hands again. “I think I need food,” I say faintly.

“Want me to cook something?” She jumps to her feet.

“I think my kitchen’s empty.”

I wobble to my feet and trail after my friend as she starts looking through the fridge and cupboards. My eyes fall on the near-dead herbs Christian gave me not so long ago, the time between then and now still feeling like an eternity. I cross the room in three long strides, rip open the window with jerky moves and toss the plant, pot, everything as far as I can. It hits a small concrete divider at the far end of my little garden and shatters.

“Fuck you!” I scream and slam the window shut again.

I turn and face a gaping Chloe.

“I’m not gonna ask,” she says “Iamgonna go to the store, though, and when I come back, I’ll cook. Promise you’ll let me back in.”