Snatching up the bracelet from the seat, I had half a mind to toss all eight of its sparkling carats out the truck window.

Someone was either fucking with me or I was losing my damn mind. Maybe both. As I thumbed over the stones, I tried to swallow the panic that had lodged itself in my throat. There was likely a completely reasonable explanation for this. Rafael very easily could've brought it home from Sicily when he flew out to claim his sister's belongings six months ago. Maybe he'd planned to give it back to me at the opening last night and that's why it was in the truck. Maybe he'd planned to give it to Cora. Hell, I wish he would have.

Although, it would have looked nice with my dress last night.

As the cold rose gold slid over my skin, the diamonds won. I fastened the clasp tight; the weight of it heavy on my wrist and even heavier on my mind, but I needed to focus.

Find Rafael. Use his phone to call Miles. Warn them both, and together preferably in case either of Desirae's suspicions are correct.

I sunk into the leather seat, trying not to stare at the diamonds on my wrist, fingers fumbling instead with the truck keys. Ditching Desirae wasn't what I wanted, but I didn't want her interrogating Rafael if he was finally home. I had my own questions for him and he'd likely have even more for me after I told him about what was going on.

And told him the truth about me and Artie.

As I twisted the keys into the ignition, the glare of the sun hit the bracelet again. Maybe it'd be best to stow it away in case Rafael kicked me out. His father still wanted me dead. My fingers slid over the engine keys to Pitruzza, down to the blue beads of Artie's evil eye charm. It would be smart to have a backup plan.

And ultimately, an escape plan.

I sped off down the backstreets, deciding to make a quick pit stop at the marina first. It was selfish, but the last time I didn't put myself first, I ended up in prison.

Despite the late afternoon sun burning hot on my shoulders, there was a chill in the breeze coming off the bay. I quickly glanced around as I walked up to dock C and tapped in the code for the gate. At the opposite end of the marina, a few men fished along the breakwater, but the rest of the docks in between us were deserted compared to this morning.

I stepped aboard Pitruzza and lifted the unzipped aft cover. Desirae had me so flustered this morning thinking about Artemisia and Miles as we were leaving that I must've forgotten to close it. The cabin door slid open, unlocked just as I'd left it. The breeze wrapped around me and once again, I was surrounded with Artie's perfume as I stepped down inside. No wonder I'd smelled her on me all day.

Sunlight spilled down the cabin steps, leading me through the dark kitchen and into the bedroom. Desirae's sweatshirt and shorts that I had worn last night remained folded on the bed. The makeup I had caked on my face and neck laid in a pile next to the mirror. I opened the closet door and dug past eight dresses until my fingers found the cold metal of the safe. Parting the fabric to see the number pad, I punched in my birthday. Relief swept over me as the door popped open, though I was a little disappointed to see it empty. Some extra cash would've been good to have on hand.

Then again, when did Artie ever actually keep money in the safe?

I pulled the lingerie drawer open and slid my hands around to feel for a stack of cash. Nothing. But I did grab a pair of lacy underwear from the pile that matched the ones I'd left at the greenhouse. As I slipped them on, I couldn't help but think of my afternoon with Miles. I just wish it hadn't ended the way it did. Miles had never made me feel guilty about anything like that before. But I guess I'd never had intrusive hallucinations of my dead ex-girlfriend while having sex with them before either. Whether it was my own fault or not, it left a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach, especially knowing Desirae considered them a suspect.

Unease crept to the tips of my fingers as I fumbled to unfasten the bracelet, but the clasp kept slipping.

"Haven't learned your lesson, no?" A gruff voice from behind me made me jump. "Sneaking around my docks all alone."

"Jesus, Pino," I gasped, spinning around. He stood up from the shadows of the lounge area. Crisp gray suit, dark curly hair peppered with more silver than I'd remembered. And he was alone, as far as I could tell. "You're uh, home early. How was the wedding?"

"Oh, it was lovely." He smiled like a fox, taking slow, calculated steps towards me. "Right on the cliffs, overlooking the Ionian Sea." His frame filled the doorway of the bedroom, blocking out most of the light. "Paola was a beautiful bride—not as beautiful as my daughter of course, but a happy bride."

Unlike your daughter. I forced a smile to hold back my tongue while my fingers tightened around the keys. "And how's my favorite Nannuzza?"

The edges of his sharp grin softened as he rubbed at his beard. "Physically, she is well, fantastic even, for ninety-three, you know? But she's having a hard time remembering Artemisia is gone, didn't understand why she wasn't there. It broke my heart having to keep telling her. Although, she did ask about you, la bedda ladra saffista—"

"Ladra?" I mumbled, searching for the translation in my head.

Pino firmly caught my elbow and slid his hand down to grip my diamond studded wrist, jerking it in the air. "The beautiful lesbian thief."

"Oh, I was actually just trying to return—"

"Which of course I thought was a bit odd she would remember you, out of all of my daughter's, well..."

"Entanglements?"

"Yes. I thought that was very strange." His grip loosened from my wrist and he unclipped the bracelet, dangling it in front of me to take. "Until last night, when Calò sent me the photos of you at my mother's villa."

"Nanna and I got close," I replied, carefully taking it. Without turning my back to him, I placed it in the safe and shut the door.

"You learned Sicilian for her."

Not the response I was expecting. "I did, yes. Well, I tried."

"And you taught her new curse words in English. She called my brother a douchebag?"

"I... yes, I also did that."

"I like you, Kirby."

I tried to stifle a snort, but it slipped out. "I'm pretty sure you don't."

"I didn't, sure. But I do now."

"You tried to have me killed less than twenty-four hours ago."

Pino shrugged a little and tossed his hands. "Yet, here you are." As he reached into his suit jacket, my back hit the edge of the closet door trying to put space between us. "You broke my daughter's heart. What was I supposed to do?"

"Uh, respectfully, I'm pretty sure forcing her to marry that creep Landon broke her heart."

A sliver of light from the window washed over half his face. His jaw tightened. "Maybe so." His hand lowered to his side. Empty. "Artemisia started making some strange investments within the last couple years—unknown artwork from outside of Europe, a local greenhouse owned by a Persian family. I heard whispers of new bank accounts set up in Dubai. I thought for sure it was her husband going behind my back because what interest would my daughter have in any of that? Then my accountant found some ties to a French prison. She had plans to run away with you, yes?"

I hadn't known the logistics at the time, but the pieces fell together now. That was where Miles had come in with the money transfers. The Shirazi's still had deep roots in Dubai.

"But you refused?"

"Yes," I answered honestly. "I didn't think it was right to leave like that—live like that. I spent my whole childhood moving from place to place. I just wanted to settle down and not have to look over my shoulder every five minutes."

He nodded. "And so you left? You never saw her body?"

My chest tightened as I tried to force myself to breathe normally. "I left and stayed with Nanna for a night." Which was mostly the truth, but I pushed the second half of his question from my mind. "I don't understand how Artie's body went missing, Pino. Didn't Landon fly out to claim her?"

"He signed her over to a non-transplant tissue donation center in Firenze. As she wished."

I let out a knowing sigh, slightly relieved, but no less dismayed by the fact that they couldn't locate her body. "That makes a lot more sense now, unfortunately," I replied. "But why did you think I knew where her body was?"

He took his time to find his words. His pale blue eyes seemed to take on a shade of gray as they sharpened on me, flicking back and forth between mine. "A rash assumption on my part. But I was wrong about you, Kirby. My sincerest apologies." Reaching into his jacket again, he pulled out my phone. "I have some jobs overseas lined up. They're yours if you want them."

"Thanks..." I tried to hide the tremble in my hand as I took my phone from him, but I was sure he noticed. "Nanna still has the pastels, by the way. And I know I should know better than to meddle in your business, but Landon seems to think he's entitled to them. I think he's moving work behind your back. Or trying to."

"He would be very foolish to do so." His eyes narrowed on me again. "And you are very foolish to make such an accusation. But I will look into it."

At this point, I figured I had nothing to lose. "It's also no coincidence that he's opened his own body trading business, right? Funded by the family, I assume?"

Pino's lips pressed to a tight smile. "Tracking Artemisia down has inspired some new business ventures, yes."

"Okay, well I dunno if you heard, but someone's out there replicating Artie's paintings with real bodies. There were two set up at the museum in the last twenty-four hours. Very detailed, very grotesque. Very dead. Another coincidence?"

The corner of his smile dipped just a twitch. "Keep Special Agent Venus away from my warehouse." Without another word, he turned away from the bedroom and disappeared into the shadows again, up the steps. The echo of his Italian leather soles on the metal dock faded away.

Air left my lungs forcefully as I collapsed onto the bed. My legs jiggled with residual anxiety. Head in my hands, I slowly breathed in. And out.

Fucking in-laws.

And now I knew for sure that Pino was onto Desirae. My hands fumbled around the comforter for my phone. I needed to warn her now too.

But as I slid open the cracked screen, about ten notifications popped up; an unread text from Miles the newest.

Don't trust her.

The timestamp read 5:27PM. Ten minutes ago.

Who?? I wrote back.

Instead of waiting for a response, I tapped their call icon. Each unanswered ring left me further on edge. Then voicemail. Something wasn't right. I snapped the phone shut and grabbed the keys to the truck.

Rafael would have to wait.

Miles would've said who they were talking about if they could. So either they were with this 'her'—or I was.

They meant Desirae.

Before I knew it, I was back up on the deck, zipping the aft cover closed for certain this time. The heels of my sandals slapped against the dock as I hurried through the gate to where I had parked the truck. I knew Miles would see through Desirae's stupid cover. But even if they figured out she was FBI, what made them feel the need to warn me about her?

Dialing them again, I tucked the phone to my ear as I rounded the corner of the truck, but I stopped short with surprise.

"Raf."

Leaning against the driver's door, he barely lifted his head of dark curls. He was staring down at papers in his hand. Not papers. I slid the phone away from my ear and snapped it shut once more as I realized what he was looking at.

Photographs.

The same ones Landon had thrown at me last night. I could see my blood smeared on the back.

"Raf, I can explain."

"Go fuck yourself."