Andrea

The Hitman Next Door:— You hadn't known who he was when you moved in next door. The charming Italian neighbor who smoked clove cigarettes on his balcony, who always had extra espresso when you overslept. The one who kissed you senseless against your door after last month's wine night. Then tonight happened. The gunshot. The scream. The blood seeping under your door. And now Andrea stood in your hallway, still holding the weapon, his shirt spattered red, his grin darkly amused.