8
Chapter Eight
Marina
By the time I make it back to the hotel, I’m exhausted. I’ve lost both my guns and almost all of my nerve. I still don’t know why Rossini spared me. He could have shot me in the back before I ever realized he was there.
But instead he tried reason. He tried to explain what happened all those years ago. I don’t know if he was playing some crazy mind game, or if he was telling the truth—or whatever he thinks the truth might be. He seemed so ... earnest.
I hit him as hard as I could and all he did was try to talk with me. He could have killed me with one punch. Instead I carry with me the memory of his gentle touch as he stroked my hair.
Who is this man?
I stare out the window of the hotel as I strip out of my clothes, letting everything drop to the floor—from my
