Savagely (The Italian Book 2)

by Krista Holt

  “I know, Ma.” I pull her hand from my face, squeezing it one last time before letting go, for good. “But, if I find out that you’ve told him anything about this visit, about her…” I let my voice drift off, my tone too harsh to my own ears.

  “I won’t. Of course, I won’t.” She smiles sadly. “I’m proud of you, Nicola. You’re a good man.”

  “Take care of Gabriella. If you need anything, call him.” I gesture through the glass door at Garrett’s back. “He’ll help.”

  “Goodbye, son.” She gives me one last tearful, lingering look and a long, clinging hug.

  And then she leaves.

  My head falls back onto the pillow and I close my eyes, fighting back my own emotions.

  I highly doubt my mother will betray me. If anything, I think she’s relieved I’ve broken free. She was the only one to fight my father over what he was exposing me to. She never won, because he was always too much of a bully, but she always fought. For me, and my sister.

  She probably doesn’t even realize that she was the one to lay the groundwork, to fan the flame that made me crave a different kind of life. One set apart from the darkness that pulled my father under. It just wasn’t until I fell in love with Reagan that I finally had a reason to walk away.

  CHAPTER 40

  Reagan

  “REAGAN, WAIT UP.”

  Balancing our celebratory donuts and my hot coffee in one hand, newspapers in the other, I turn around to find Garrett hurrying after me.

  “What’s wrong? Is it Nic? Is he okay?”

  “No, no,” he huffs, getting closer with his crutches. “Nothing like that.”

  “Oh.” I take a calming breath, steadying the load in my hands. “What’s wrong then?”

  “Nothing, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He gives me a sad smile. “He knows you know.”

  I try to smile again, but it falters and disappears quickly. “I don’t want him to worry about me.”

  “He’s always going to worry about you. He always has, ever since I met him.”

  I bite my bottom lip and drop my eyes to the floor, trying to find some determination. “I know he has to go. It’ll be safer for him, and I’ll be fine. I’ll throw myself into work and three months will pass before you know it. Then he’ll be back, and—” I glance up, noticing the grimace Garrett can’t quite hide. “What?”

  “Have you seen the papers today?”

  “No, I just grabbed them. Why?”

  He plucks them from my hand and hobbles toward the closest flat surface. I follow, watching as he spreads them out before me.

  “Why am I on there?” I gasp, skimming over a picture of me standing beside Cameron under the headline:

  “The Staffer and the Mobster: A Match Made in Politics.”

  “This is bad.” I quickly skim the inky paragraphs, reading a mixture of lies, conjecture, and the truth. “This is really, really bad.”

  I grab another paper and read another story that says the same thing. An illicit affair between a staffer and a mobster. The alleged sharing of congressional secrets. The rumored disappearance of an Oversight intern. A horrific breach of the American public’s trust.

  “I can’t believe this,” I whisper.

  “I don’t know how to shut this down, Reagan. It’s too big now. I’m sorry.”

  “Was this Simmons?” I ask, unable to look away from the scandalous black print.

  “I think so. He fanned the initial spark. The media ran with it from there.”

  I cover my mouth, dropping the coffee onto the counter. It lands with a thud, spilling on some of the papers.

  “I need to call work. Call Becca. Oh my—I need to call my mother. Where is my phone? I need my phone—”

  “Hold on.” Garrett lays a reassuring hand on my forearm. “Take a deep breath. Take a minute. You don’t have to do anything right this second.”

  “I have to get in front of this, somehow.”

  He glances at the stack of national papers. “I think it’s a little late for that.”

  My shoulders slump and my eyes glaze over as I stare at the printed accusations. “They’re going to fire me.”

  He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t need to.

  “Is Nic asleep?”

  “No.” His forehead wrinkles. “Why?”

  “Because I need my phones, and if he sees me like this, he’s going to know something’s wrong.”

  “Then maybe you should tell him.”

  “No. Not now.”

  “Reagan…”

  “It isn’t ideal, I get that. I will tell him, but not now. I want him focused on getting better. That’s all.”

  “It’s your choice.”

  I nod, resolute, even though my mind is spinning. I’m about to lose my job. After all my hard work, and after everything I’ve sacrificed, it’s going to disappear like a bunny in a magic act. Poof. Gone.

  I pace the hallway for a while. Thinking. Worrying. Waiting. Garrett eventually wanders away after Tommy arrives and agrees to stand guard from a nearby corner.

  By the time I head back to Nic’s room, he’s sound asleep. I grab my purse and leave a second later. Tommy trails after me, keeping a watchful eye on everything as I settle down in a deserted corner of the hospital.

  Powering on my Blackberry, I wince as the notifications go off, chiming and beeping until I silence the stupid thing. Scrolling through the thousands of emails flooding in, two high priority notifications pop up on the screen.

  Missed Call: Brent (Chief of Staff)

  Voicemail: Brent (Chief of Staff)

  My stomach bottoms out as I listen to the message.

  “Reagan, it’s Brent. Give me a call as soon as you get this. We need to talk.”

  I know in the pit of my stomach what’s going to happen. I’m about to bite the bullet and call Brent back when a text from Scott comes through.

  Call me before you call Brent.

  I call him first.

  “Hey,” he answers, “give me a minute.” Background noise leaks through the line until it suddenly cuts off. “I can talk now.”

  “It’s over, isn’t?” I try to hold my voice steady, not wanting to break down. I’m so tired of crying. I can’t do it anymore.

  “I’m sorry, I tried everything I could think of. It wasn’t enough.”

  Inhaling quickly, I pick at my jeans, trying to remain professional. Composed. Even though I’m falling apart. “It’s okay, I understand.”

  “This is a shit hand, Reagan. You and I both know you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just the optics of it all, it doesn’t look good.”

  I glance over at Tommy, noting his stiff stance, his eyes laser-focused on me. “I understand.”

  “I know it’s not fair…”

  “It’s just politics.”

  “Yeah,” he sighs again, “it is.”

  Swallowing hard, I nod needlessly. “Well, thanks for everything, Scott, really. I’m going to miss working with you. But I bet you won’t miss all the drama I brought to the office, huh?” I fight for a smile.

  He forces a laugh. “I can’t believe you’re going to make me train someone new.”

  “It’ll keep you young.”

  “That’s insulting.”

  “Deal with it.” I smile to myself. “Thanks though, really.”

  “It’s the least I could do for my kidnap buddy, right?”

  “Right.” I pause, struggling to find something else to say. “I guess I should probably call Brent.”

  “Maybe so, but hey, when you’re back in the city, call me. We’ll get drinks.”

  “Sure, Scott. I’ll see you around.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that. Goodbye, Reagan.”

  With a click, he’s gone, and I immediately call Brent, not giving myself time to think about it. I just need this to be over with as soon as possible.

  He answers on the third ring. “This is Brent.
”

  “It’s Reagan, calling you back.”

  “Ah, yes, hold on.” There’s a creak as he gets up from his desk and closes his office door. “So, I’m sure you’ve seen the papers.”

  “I have.”

  “Then you should know this wasn’t something done lightly. Scott fought for you, he really did. We really valued your work, Cameron especially, please know that, but this is much bigger than all that. It’s not personal.”

  “It feels personal,” I lamely argue.

  “I can see how you’d feel that way, but this has always been our internal policy. When a staffer becomes bigger news than Cameron, that’s when we cut ties. We do the same thing if one of the staff agrees to be part of that stupid HillTalk “Most Beautiful People” list they put together every year for vapid, self-promoting staffers. In this line of work, the attention needs to be on Cameron and what he’s doing, not the people who work for him.”

  “So, you’re saying this doesn’t have anything to do with me, you don’t think I’m guilty of anything, it’s about perception? I’m being fired over a public relations snafu?”

  “Yes and no. We do have grounds, Reagan. Remember that NDA you signed before this all started? It was your legal declaration that you weren’t associated in any way, shape, or form with any criminal organizations or enterprises. Do you remember that?”

  “Yes, I do,” I admit, knowing he’s right. But I’ve invested so much of myself in this job, in my big life plan, and it feels like it’s being taken away from me on a technicality.

  “Look, Cameron doesn’t want to make this a bigger deal than it needs to be. He appreciates everything you’ve sacrificed for this investigation, but that’s where the focus needs to be, on this investigation, not your love life.”

  I stiffen, feeling his words like a slap. “I see.”

  “Good. Then if anyone asks, we parted ways amicably. Please have someone drop off your Blackberry and ID badge as soon as you can.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “We appreciate your service, Reagan. Best of luck.” He hangs up while I’m busy trying not to on choke on the fake sentiment behind his words.

  I’m stock still, staring blankly at the phone in my lap, when Tommy startles me.

  “You okay?”

  “I will be.” I nervously tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Of course.”

  I hand him the Blackberry. “Could you find a way to get that back to my office? Or ex-office, I guess.”

  “They fired you?” he says, Jersey accent stronger as he grows upset on my behalf.

  “Yeah, they did.”

  “Shitty break, kid.”

  I smile weakly. “Quite a string of them we’re having, huh?”

  “It’s their loss.”

  “Maybe.” I shrug. “But I couldn’t be in two places anyway. It’s probably for the best. I get to stay with Nic this way.” I glance at the closest clock. “I should get back, I’ve been gone awhile.”

  “Lead the way.” He gestures toward the empty hallway.

  “If I get you my ID badge, can you send them both?”

  “Yep. Just get me an address.”

  We reach Nic’s room and find Garrett sitting inside, keeping the now-awake patient company.

  “Everything okay?” Nic asks, studying me intently.

  I set my purse down and find my ID badge before sliding it into Tommy’s waiting hand without a second look at it. At the little piece of plastic that used to mean so much. Maybe I put too much emphasis on it, but to me, it signified the accomplishment of my plan. Get into Stanford, graduate, and then work on Capitol Hill. It was a part of my identity, a shining example of all my hard work. And now, it’s nothing more than a piece of my past.

  As scary as it feels to be standing on the edge of the unknown, I can’t step back. There’s nothing there anymore. I have to move forward. With Nic.

  Tommy leaves the room quickly and Garrett frowns, his sharp eyes having caught our sly exchange. But I ignore it. Pushing my chair toward Nic’s bed, I grab his hand and squeeze it tight.

  “Everything’s fine.”

  CHAPTER 41

  Nic

  ANOTHER DAY PASSES BEFORE THERE’S talk of moving me.

  I’ve been up and slowly moving around, anxious to get out of here. Uneasiness has settled in and staring at these same walls, day in and day out, is starting to drive me crazy. Which doesn’t bode well for the next however-many months I’ll have to spend in some obscure safe house.

  I gingerly lap my hospital room again, flipping Garrett off when he laughs at how slow I’m moving.

  “Where is she?”

  “Downstairs,” he answers, “getting something to eat. There’s an agent with her. Don’t worry.”

  A sharp pain blazes through my chest and I stop, fighting to catch my breath. “How much longer until we leave?”

  “Tomorrow, the day after that at the latest. Too many people know you’re here.”

  He’s right. It’s best for everyone if we leave as soon as possible.

  “Any word on the trial?” I ask, starting another lap.

  “No, they’re still cycling through the other witnesses. Relax. It’s going to be awhile before the jury even starts deliberating.”

  I guess that’s good news. I mean, the rest of my father’s accusers could have been shot, like me. Or worse, they could all be dead.

  “Have you talked to Reagan at all?” he asks. “About coming with you?”

  I shake my head. “No. She has a life in D.C.”

  “It’s not safe for her there anymore, Nic.”

  My steps slow and I gingerly turn toward him. “What do you mean?”

  “She told me not to tell you. But…” He groans.

  “But, what?”

  “It’s all out there, her connection to you. Simmons told anyone who would listen. She’s had her face splashed underneath more headlines than I can count, and none of them have been positive.”

  My knees buckle in surprise, and I quickly shuffle back to the bed before I end up on the ground. “She was trying to protect me.”

  “Yeah, she was. Which is why she can’t go anywhere near D.C. Not by herself, not unprotected.”

  “What about her job?”

  He hesitates, actually hesitates. The ballsy federal agent hesitates.

  I sigh, the answer hitting me hard. “They fired her…”

  “Yesterday.”

  Which explains why she was so distracted. I knew she was upset, but she assured me she was fine and I had passed it off as lingering emotions from all of this. Wrong again, Selvaggio.

  “She’s coming then,” I say decisively. “We’ll just let her think it was her idea.”

  “Or you could just ask her to come?”

  I glare at him, trying to ease myself back into the uncomfortable hospital bed. “Will you add her to the protection detail, or not?”

  He mumbles something under his breath before speaking up. “I’ve already included her.”

  As if her ears were burning, my self-appointed protector steps inside the room a second later and scowls at me. “What are you doing out of bed? Who told you that was okay?”

  Garrett snorts, and I shoot him another dark glare.

  “The nurse said it would be good for me,” I explain.

  “I’m not sure…” Her full lips twist into an adorable frown.

  “You think you know better than someone who’s been to medical school?” Amusement warms my tone. Even after finding out what she’s kept from me, I can’t be mad at her. Almost dying has this funny way of putting things into perspective.

  “Maybe I do.”

  I chuckle and it hurts. A pained gasp leaves my lips, and Reagan is by my side, tucking me back into the stupid bed before I can blink.

  “I was right,” she says haughtily. “You should still be in bed.”

  I groan, fighting back a wave of nausea. “May that be a cold comfort
when you visit my tombstone.”

  Her face pales, and a different type of pain hits me square in the chest. Even Garrett has the common sense to wince at my moronic comeback.

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  She tries to shake it off, but her eyes are dark with fear. “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not. You’ve been through a lot. I should be more sensitive.”

  “I’m not in a hospital bed.”

  “No, but I bet there were times you wished it was you instead. I know I’d wish it was me if you’d been hurt.”

  “I don’t want to joke about you dying, okay? It’s not funny.”

  “It won’t happen again.” I shift in the bed, bracing against the pain that roars through my lower stomach as the stitches pull at tender skin. “Are you okay? Do you need to talk to someone about this?”

  “Like who? Who could I possibly talk to about all this?”

  “A priest?” The suggestion sounds as weak as my voice.

  “No, thanks. I’d rather wait until you’re feeling better, and then take it out on you.”

  “Something to look forward to, I guess.”

  She fights a smile, falling back into her chair as I sink into the mattress.

  “You two are cute together,” Garrett says dryly from the corner I’d forgotten he’d shoved himself into.

  Reagan laughs, and I close my eyes, determined to ignore them both, until Garrett’s phone rings. Suddenly, the air around us turns heavy with expectation as he reaches for it.

  He quickly volleys questions back and forth with someone on the other end before hanging up. “The doctor signed off on you traveling,” he explains. “We leave tomorrow morning at nine. Pack your bags.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  He pushes to his feet. “I swear, if you do that the entire plane ride, I’m gonna tape your mouth closed myself.” He heads through the door as Reagan attempts to hide a giggle.

  “Do you really not know how witness protection works?” She laughs.

  “I do. It’s just fun to irritate him.” I gesture for her hand, and wait for her to lace her fingers with mine. “Will you come with me?”

  “I’ve already taken a leave of absence from work.”

  The lie digs just a little, but I remind myself that she’s doing it out of love.