8. Luca

CHAPTER 8

LUCA

STILL THE SAME NIGHT – ARRESTED!

I opened the door and stepped inside, thinking about a quick shower, seeing to my unruly appendage, which was back at full mast after my thoughts during the drive home. My mind inevitably returned, again and again, to Claire and what we’d done in my office—then the bed.

As I entered my bedroom, I stopped dead. What the fuck?!

Unable to believe the sight before me, I shook my head in denial. There was blood all over my bed and a naked woman lying spread-eagled, tied to it.

Her hair was over her face, but I recognised the tattoo on her hip. It was Julie. My ex! Oh shit!

Shock washed over me. Without thinking, I rushed to the bed to check if she was dead. As I reached her side, I slipped on something and fell forward, barely catching myself before landing on top of her. Jesus!

Pushing aside her hair to check for a pulse, I grimaced at the sight of her throat. There was no doubt—she was dead. Now I had blood on my hands and up my arms.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!! What the hell was I thinking? I knew better than this!

I was panicking. I never panicked. Tonight’s situation with Claire had messed me up more than I’d realised. This was bad. Really fucking bad!

It took me a minute, but the shock finally subsided enough for me to pull out my phone. Normally, I’d call Miki first, but since he was likely still at the party and might not pick up, I called Trigger, knowing he was working tonight.

Just as I waited for him to pick up, someone pounded on the door. Aw, shit!

“Police! Open up!” a voice shouted.

I froze. Grabbing my phone, I dialled Trigger’s number again.

“Luca, what the fuck are police cars doing in front of your building?” he asked as soon as he picked up.

“It’s Julie—my ex. She’s dead on my fucking bed. Murdered. Tell Miki, I’m about to be arrested,” I said frantically, hurrying to the door.

“Police! Open the door!” the voice shouted again.

“Coming!” I called and rushed to open it.

As soon as I did, several officers barged in. They took in my appearance and the bloody trail of footprints I’d made from the bedroom. Two officers grabbed me while another followed the trail.

“Aw, shit!” he muttered, gingerly retracing his steps as he tried not to contaminate the crime scene further.

“We’ve got a dead woman, tied to the bed, throat cut,” he said, his voice holding a thinly veiled thread of disgust.

“You’re under arrest,” one of the officers holding me said as he cuffed my hands behind my back and led me out to the awaiting police car.

Fuck, I’m in so much trouble!