by Skye Warren
Then his earlier words register. The plane.
My stomach drops. “Luca. I don’t have a passport.”
I don’t have any form of identification at all. No driver’s license. No birth certificate. According to the US government, I don’t even exist. Harmony Hills didn’t exactly follow legal procedures when babies were born. The less interference from the government the better.
Actually Delilah doesn’t exist either. I sneaked out of the small women’s shelter where she was born in the small hours of the morning.
“You won’t need one,” he says.
The SUV slows. I look out the window to see a small aircraft, only three windows across the side. “This is what we’re taking? Are you sure it’s safe?”
He gives me a small smile. “It’s safe, little bird. And even better, they don’t ask questions.”
The words are pointed, reminding me that I’m asking too many questions. But I understand the deeper point, that we need someone who will let me fly without paperwork. And hopefully no one will answer questions if someone asks about a girl with long blonde hair.
The plane takes off within an hour. I’m clinging to the seat, my knuckles white. Delilah fusses at the loud noise of takeoff, the strange feelings in her ears. Her cry is drowned out by the roar of the engines.
Only Luca looks unaffected by the rush and the noise.
He turns to dig through a small compartment on the other side of his seat. He finds an empty glass and a bottle of water. Pouring only an inch into the glass, he turns it this way and that near the window. A sliver of rainbow appears on the carpet at my feet.
Delilah quiets, noticing the colorful light. Luca entertains her through the takeoff, the incline, making rainbow shapes on the floor until our ears are clear. By the time the sound of the engines level off, I can hear her squeals of delight.
“More,” she says. “Wah more!”
It’s only a matter of time before she demands the cup itself. Not for drinking, but to play with the small amount of liquid, sticking her hand into the glass, splashing it, spraying droplets at me until I have to laugh.
I’m still laughing when I turn to Luca. The seriousness of his expression makes my smile fade. Suddenly I’m self-conscious, wondering how I look playing with a one-year-old. Do I seem like a child myself? Like a backward country girl on a plane for the first time?
Do I look like a victim?
I’m all those things, but maybe, just maybe, if we make it so I don’t have to run, I can be something more.
Chapter Eleven
The caravan of luxury SUVs that carry us away from my apartment felt extravagant. The small private plane feels extreme—but they’re nothing compared to the private jet that awaits us in Seattle. It’s sleek and gleaming, with the word Pajarita across the side. A man in a suit and dark sunglasses waits beside metal stairs. Delilah has been fussy since halfway through the drive, not at all pleased to be confined to a seat when she wants to roam.
“We have a few minutes before takeoff,” Luca murmurs.
He pulls the car seat away from me and heads up the stairs.
I follow him, my eyes widening at the inside of this plane—all wood paneling and plush carpets. The seats aren’t stacked together like the small plane. Instead they’re arranged in a casual circle, each with a large headrest and wide leather arms.
It’s a relief to kneel in front of Delilah’s seat where Luca sets her down, to focus on something mundane like stroking her hair into place, unlatching her seat belt. She springs up with a wordless exclamation of gratitude.
“Thank you,” I murmur, unable to look at Luca.
I knew that my apartment was small and dingy, but this is a whole new world. What did Luca think when he saw my broken car and the sleeping mat? I must look pathetic to him.
“Hey.” He touches my arm, and I look at him. “I know we’re the reason you don’t have a home. Because we showed up with fucking—with guns blazing. And then I took you.”
Doesn’t he understand that he saved me?
Delilah grasps the edge of the leather seat, pulling herself into a wobbly stand. She uses it as leverage to edge toward the back of the plane. A shiny mirror at the back is her goal.
“Stay here, baby,” I tell her.
Luca glances down. “Everything in here is safe to fly. She won’t get hurt.”
A flush burns my cheeks. “I’m more worried about her breaking something.”
“Let her.”
“Won’t Ivan be angry?”
“I doubt he’ll care. It’s my plane.”
I take in the luxurious surroundings with fresh eyes. I knew that there was money to be made in the criminal underworld. Otherwise why would anyone do it? I didn’t realize that Luca had this kind of wealth. Muscle, yes. Pure force.
What had he done to earn this kind of money? “How many people have you killed?”
His chuckle is low, unoffended. “More than my share, but I earn most of my money through fights. Big money fights, sponsorships. And betting, when I’m not in the ring.”
“Oh. Then why do you—” I bite my lip, remembering it’s none of my business. Girls were slapped across the face for asking questions in Harmony Hills. Living on the run brought me out of my shell by necessity, but I can never forget the pecking order.
His eyes darken. “You can ask me anything, Beth.”
Already he has shown me more tolerance, more kindness than any man I’ve ever met. But his hands are huge, his arms bulging. His entire body weighs more than twice mine, hard packed and built to fight. If he ever decided to teach me a lesson, I wouldn’t survive it. “Okay.”
“Then why do I work for Ivan?” he asks, his voice droll.
I wring my hands together. “You don’t have to answer.”
“Technically you didn’t ask.” He nods toward one of the wide leather seats. “Did you see the name of the plane?”
“Pajarita,” I say, not knowing what it means.
His eyes darken. “Little bird. I named it after you.”
My heart thuds heavy in my chest. Something this huge, this luxurious—after me?
He gives me a small smile. “Do you want anything to drink?”
As soon as he mentions the word, my mouth feels parched. A desert. I take a seat, feeling out of place in the plush armchair. I shove my hands between my knees, holding myself tightly. Pajarita. “Water, please.”
He walks to the bar, a counter above where Delilah is blowing kitten-breath clouds on the mirror. He stirs around in the fridge before pulling out a clear bottle. He brings me back a glass.
“Thank you,” I whisper before taking a sip. Bubbles tickle my nose.
Even the water is different here.
He takes the seat across from mine, our knees almost touching when he reclines. “What do you think I’m going to do to you?” he asks, his voice mild.
My knuckles turn white as I clench the glass. I force myself to relax. “What do you mean?”
“You fought me tooth and nail when I took you from Harmony Hills. And you were ready to fight me again last night when we were alone in that shit hole—in your apartment. That’s the Beth I know, but this morning you’ve been the picture of obedience. Tell me what changed.”
When I fought him, I thought I could get away.
I thought I could keep Delilah safe on my own. I learned a long time ago never to rely on a man, never to trust him, never to believe that he wouldn’t hurt you if he got mad. And Luca is so big and so strong it would be even worse.
Then he found me at the Last Stop, saving me in my final moments. Which meant my brother would have found me eventually. No matter how careful I am, they always catch up.
I choose my words carefully, knowing I can’t risk insulting him. “I appreciate you helping me and Delilah. That’s all I can focus on, keeping her safe. And you’re helping me do that. Why would I fight you?”
Unless he wanted to hurt Delilah. I would turn into a lioness if he lai
d one of those large hands on her. I cringe, imagining the backhands I got when I was little. Those men hadn’t been half as big as him.
“They fucked you up good,” he says, his voice low enough that Delilah can’t hear.
I flinch. “It’s not a nice place.”
“And I’m not a nice man,” he says, as if acknowledging the conclusion.
“You’ve always been good to Delilah.” And that’s all that matters. That’s all that can matter now. My brother would hurt me, but he would take Delilah away. And that means that I choose Luca, even if he requires my body as payment.
He leans forward, touching two fingers to my knee. I’m wearing jeans, but the feel of him burns like a brand. “I liked the Beth who fought me. You look like you’re made of glass, so damn fragile a harsh wind could blow you over, but that’s not true. I saw it when you stood in that office holding a rifle as big as you were.”
A shudder works through my body. I contemplated hurting Leader Allen so many times. Every afternoon, our daily prayers. His wrinkled face above me, flushed red, panting.
Then when Candy brought those dangerous men back to Harmony Hills, I knew that was my chance. My only chance to escape. And I took it.
“I’ve never been more scared in my life.”
He laughs softly. “You were a goddess. And the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”
He must have met so many women—beautiful, confident women. And of course he’s seen Candy. Our looks are similar, both blonde, both slender. But she has wide eyes and full lips, curves in all the right places. “I’m not anything special.”
“You wanted to know why I worked for Ivan. We met when we were kids. Both stupid, fucked up—sorry. Both of us dumb kids who wanted to get out of the barrio. He lived in a group home, parents long gone. I still had my mom at home. She turned tricks to keep food on the table.”
Sympathy clenches my heart. It’s hard to imagine this large man as a small boy, vulnerable to the cruelties of the world. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It made us tough. Forged in fucking—forged in fire. Like you, Beth. That’s what I see when I look at you. A goddamn mirror.”
My breath halts. “Me?”
“You and me, we’re the same.”
I swallow hard.
The sound of a cabinet door thumping draws my attention to the far end of the plane. Delilah tugs on a door, but it’s caught by some kind of lock that must keep it closed during flight. Her black curls shimmer under the ambient lighting, a dark angel.
She doesn’t look anything like her father, at least not how I knew him—old and deranged. It would be a comfort to imagine that she was implanted by God, but I know better. Despite what Leader Allen preached, God never lived in Harmony Hills.
“I learned not to fight,” I whisper. “Not to speak. Not to breathe when he didn’t want me to.”
The creak of leather lets me know Luca leans forward. “I’d kill that fucker all over again if I could.”
Maybe we are the same, because I would too. “I don’t want to be quiet anymore.”
“No,” he agrees gently. “Don’t stop fighting me either.”
Chapter Twelve
I’ve never been to Tanglewood, the city where Candy hid after she left Harmony Hills. All I know is what she’s told me—the strip clubs, the gambling. The fighting rings where Luca spends his nights.
My heart thuds, a heavy beat. Working my way through the small cities has been hard enough. Learning the street signs, the strange customs that everyone knows but me. Counting money. Buying food. Every single step has been a steep climb.
Now I’m going to the biggest city I’ve seen, the darkest.
We find another string of black SUVs waiting outside when we land. They drive us through the city, which alternates between mansions and tenements, skyscrapers and gutters.
Ivan’s house is like a castle in the center of the city, an urban fortress with high stone walls and sleek black cameras nestled into corners. Candy meets me on the front steps, eyes glistening with tears.
“Oh my gosh,” she says, her voice awed. “She’s beautiful, Beth.”
Delilah resisted going back in her car seat for takeoff, but the rumble of the engine put her to sleep immediately. Now she blinks up at Candy, eyes wide and hazy.
“Thank you,” I say, flushing with nervous pride. Motherhood isn’t something I ever wanted for myself. I never imagined a happy home because I knew that was impossible. Duty. Pain. Those were the things that led me here, but I can’t regret it. Not when I look at the trust in her dark eyes.
Candy pulls us inside, where marble floors expand for miles and chandeliers twinkle overhead. Luca excuses himself to look for Ivan, leaving me in a living room that could fit a hundred people.
“This place is like a palace,” I say, my voice hushed.
She laughs, the sound knowing. “Pretty different from the Great Hall.”
The Great Hall was kind of a joke, even among the true believers. There was nothing great about the dirt floors and the whitewashed walls. Bars on the windows made it look more like a prison than a gathering place.
“I’m afraid to breathe,” I admit. And unlike the plane, where flight safety had made it somewhat babyproof, there’s plenty that’s breakable here.
“Luca called and let me know that you were coming,” she says. “I got a room ready for you upstairs. And my friend Honor’s nanny is coming over tomorrow to help get the rest of the house prepared. She’ll be staying with us for a couple weeks to help me out.”
My heart clenches, thinking of leaving Delilah. It’s been hard enough leaving her with a babysitter when she’s asleep so I could work. This will be days. “Are you sure this is okay?”
“Of course,” she says with a wink. “It’s an honor having the blessed one in our house.”
I make a face. “Not you, too.”
“Hey, I think it’s cool that the savior’s a girl. It was time for a change.”
Pulling out a plastic toy that plays light and sounds, I distract Delilah from our conversation. Delilah examines the familiar toy with an unimpressed sound. Then she half scoots, half crawls over to a potted plant, grasping at the wide green leaves overhead.
“I don’t want her hearing about any of that.”
Candy’s expression softens. “I know it was messed up, but it’s part of her history. It’s definitely part of your history.”
“I wish,” I mutter. “That history has a way of following me around.”
“We’ll keep her safe, Beth.”
Cameras. Walls. Will it be enough? “I can’t lose her. I just…can’t.”
Tears prick my eyes. I put the heels of my hands to my face, trying to keep from crying. A soft touch on my shoulder shatters me. Comfort. Kindness. God.
I try to turn away, but Candy doesn’t let me. She pulls me close, and I cry against her body, her breasts cradling me, her arms encircling me. I cry for getting attacked outside the Last Stop, for giving birth in a low-rent women’s shelter. I cry for the little girl I once was, trembling and alone on a dirt floor.
“We’ll keep her safe,” Candy whispers fiercely. “I won’t let her out of my sight. And no one will know she’s here. All they’ll know is that you’re in Chicago.”
“Bait,” I whisper, my voice thick.
“Trust Luca. He cares about you more than you know.”
I pull away, retreating, hiding my face behind a fall of blonde hair. “You know what he wants from me.”
“What’s wrong with that?” she asks, her tone playful.
My nose scrunches. “You know what’s wrong with that.”
She smiles gently. “I know more than you think I do. I know that being with Luca won’t be anything like what happened in Harmony Hills. And I know that he went crazy when you disappeared. He cares about you.”
“It’s a game to him.”
“Maybe, but Ivan insisted that he forget about you. We have more important things to worry about, al
l that jazz. And you know what Luca said?”
We met when we were kids. Both stupid, fucked up—sorry. Both of us dumb kids who wanted to get out of the barrio. “What?”
“He told him to go fuck himself.”
I flinch and then smile. “That sounds like Luca.”
“Not before you. He was content to take orders as long as Ivan watched his back. They worked together for a long time without any problems. Then he meets you.”
“And he kidnapped me,” I murmur.
“He saved you.” She knows what it was like there more than anyone.
“I’m grateful to him,” I admit. “And I guess there’s some part of me that’s interested. But the most important thing in my life is Delilah. It has to be her. I’m not sure I can be with a man at all, especially one whose entire life revolves around violence.”
Her hand touches mine. “Beth, our lives revolved around violence.”
And mine still does. “I can’t make it stop,” I whisper.
“Luca will help you.”
Luca will help me and hurt me. He’ll use me in every way until I don’t know where I end and he begins. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be wary. He’s more dangerous than Leader Allen ever was. “You have to promise me something.”
“Anything,” she says promptly.
I glance at Delilah, who’s scooted back to her toy. A Mozart sonata plays through the plastic speaker. My voice drops. “If I don’t come back, you’ll take care of her as your own.”
She gasps. “No.”
“Promise.”
“You’ll come back. Of course you will.”
Except she can’t be sure of that. I can walk into the crosshairs when it means keeping Delilah safe. I could walk through fire for her. I just need to know that she’ll be taken care of if I don’t come back. “As if she’s your own child.”
She looks away, her lower lip trembling. For the first time since she left Harmony Hills, she doesn’t look self-assured. She looks like the young woman we both really are, forced to grow up too soon. “She’s my sister, you know,” she murmurs. “Both of us came from the same man.”