And I know, I just know …nothing good can come of it …
San Francisco
Selima Rai picked her phone up and saw it was her sister calling. She glanced quickly at the sleeping man beside her and scooted gently out of bed. She went into the living room, slipping into Chase’s t-shirt before she answered the call. “Hey, sis.”
“Hey, I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“Not at all.”
“Why are you whispering?” Ama sounded amused and Selima chuckled.
“Hot guy asleep in next room.”
“Good work.” Ama laughed. “Sorry to call so early. I always forget the time difference.”
“I don’t care. It’s lovely to hear your voice. How are you?”
“Beyond good. How’s your program going?”
Selima was studying for her Master’s degree in criminology and was loving every day, even though it was hard work. “Good, darling, really. I like my tutors a lot; they’re more like friends at this point.”
“Suck up.”
Selima laughed. “You know it. God, Ama, I miss you.”
“Oh, me too, boo. So much. When your semester is over, promise me you’ll come to Italy?”
Selima smiled into the phone. “Try and stop me.”
Ama seemed to hesitate then. “How is your protection working out?”
Selima’s smile faded. “So far, so good. They’re very discreet, but still …I could do without them. I have Chase now.”
“Chase, is it? Well, he’s probably not going to be locked and loaded, is he, so the protection stays. Sorry, sis.” Ama chuckled. “But tell me more about Chase.”
Later, when Chase got up and sleepily lurched into her bathroom to shower, Selima took stock of what her sister had said. Selima was overjoyed that Ama had split from Jackson Gallo. The man was a creep who had kept hitting on her throughout his engagement to Ama. But the repercussions of how they had split up had crashed through Selima’s life here in Los Angeles. Jackson Gallo’s threats to her own safety had shocked Selima, but his obvious rage and obsession with her sister scared her more. She had no doubt at all that Jackson would harm Amalia if he could, and although Selima was glad Ama was with Enda, she didn’t know Enda at all well and didn’t know if she could trust him to protect her sister. It made her sick to the stomach to think of Ama being hurt.
Chase came into the kitchen, stealing a piece of toast from her plate. She had met him only recently. He was a new transfer in from a college in Minnesota, and he had a warm, guileless charm that she loved. He’d grinned at her across a lecture hall, and although she tried to play it cool, her stomach filled with butterflies. Turned out, he was a friend of one of her friends and on a group night out, they had gotten to talking. Since then, he’d stayed every night.
He bent to kiss her now, tasting of toast and toothpaste. She wrinkled her nose. “Yuck.”
Chase laughed a deep rumble through his broad chest. He was absurdly tall—nearly six-seven—with blonde hair sticking up in every direction, big blue eyes, and an easy smile. “That’s what a man likes to hear when he kisses his woman.”
Selima grinned. “Who said I’m your woman?”
“Me. And I don’t mean that in a caveman, ugg ugg, beat you over the head and drag you to my cave way. I mean, you’re my favorite woman, is all.”
“That’s nice. Thank you. And so was the kiss.”
“Oh, I know.” He was cocky, self-assured, and safe in his masculinity. Selima loved that about him. Here was a man not threatened by a strong woman. “Now,” he said, coming over to her and lifting her onto the table. “I need to have a good breakfast.” He pulled her silky robe open and looked around. “Ah ha.” He grabbed the little jug of maple syrup and Selima giggled as he poured it over her breasts, then bent to lick it off. “Lay back for me, darlin’.”
She did, and he smiled down at her, drizzling the syrup onto her belly so it filled her navel, then down into her sex. He dropped to his knees and ran his tongue from her navel down to her cunt, pressing her legs apart so he could taste her properly. His tongue lashed around her clit and Selima gave a little moan of pleasure. “Just relax there, baby. Let Chase take care of things.”
His mouth on her, sent her senses reeling, and when he stood and freed his cock from his jeans, she almost wept at the feel of it plunging into her red, swollen cunt. “God, yes, Chase, harder …”
Grinning, he fucked her expertly, leaving her gasping, panting for air, and arching her back from the table as she came. Chase groaned, pumping cum deep inside her, then gathered her into his arms to kiss her. “God, baby, where have you been all my life?”
Selima kissed him back. “Just tell me we can do that every day.”
Chase grinned. “Sure thing …although we’re gonna go through a lot of maple syrup.”
She was still glowing as she made her way to class later that day, and didn’t see the man watching her.
Enda and Raffaelo arrived at the restaurant just before their client and were sitting, chatting, when he arrived. Roger Fallwell was an American property broker who dealt with all the major property scions around the world, but Enda and Raff were surprised when he called them to talk about their project. He had wanted to meet with them on this specific day, at one p.m. and was very adamant about it, which make them scratch their heads.
“Maybe he’s just here for one day? How did he even find out about it?” Enda wondered now, and Raff shook his head. “No idea.”
Enda shrugged. “Ah, well.”
Raff grinned. “You are so chilled out these days, my brother.”
Enda chuckled. “Ama,” was all he said, and Raff smiled.
“Gotcha.”
Enda grinned to himself. Last night had been the benefit they had talked about, and he had indeed fucked Ama in a dark alcove, where anyone could have walked past and caught them. No one did, though, but it had been a thrilling ride anyway.
At home, Ama was practicing a piece she had written over and over when her phone rang. “Ama?”
It was Christina, her best friend. Ama was delighted, but Christina’s voice was trembling. “Chrissy, what is it?”
“I’m not sure …someone broke into my home this morning. I was at the store buying milk. They left a message.”
Ama’s heart began to beat faster. “Chrissy, are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“No …no, I’m not hurt. I don’t think this is about me. Ama, the message was written in blood on my wall. It said …‘Tell her everyone, until she’s the only one left.' Sweetheart, I think …”
“…it’s Jackson. Chrissy, I want you to pack a bag and get out of there now. Did you call the police?”
“I did; there’s an officer here. I told them what I told you and they agree – I need to leave for the time being. Darling …there’s something else. There was a fire at the conservatory. No one was hurt, but there was a lot of damage.”
Ama’s legs gave out, and she slumped to the floor, panting for air. Her chest felt as if it were in a vise. “Chrissy …my sister …”
“I already thought about that. There are police on the way to her apartment right now.”
“Thank you. Thank you. Chrissy, get out of there now.”
“I will, I promise. Keep in touch, Ama, please. Be safe.”
“You too. I love you.”
Enda checked his phone and saw three missed calls. Damnit. He’d forgotten to switch it off silent mode. He saw the calls were from Ama and he frowned. Just then, though, their guest arrived.
Roger Fallwell looked sweaty and pale as they shook hands, and Enda realized he was trembling. Was he going to have a heart attack? “Are you okay, Mr. Fallwell?”
Fallwell closed his eyes, muttering something to himself. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this …”
Enda and Raffaelo exchanged worried glances. Raff cleared his throat and signaled to the waiter. “Could we have some ice water, please? Our guest is unwell.”
Fallwell shook his
head. “No, it’s okay, I’m not …god, oh god …”
As they looked on in amazement, Roger Fallwell started to sob.
Inca was at her favorite tea house in the city, the one she had opened with Raff soon after they became engaged. With an upstairs tea room over-looking the Bay, it was always busy, and Inca liked to help out as much as she could. It made her feel less like the princess in the ivory tower. The staff and customers alike adored her, and she loved spending time there. It had also improved her Italian exponentially, and she could chatter away to people easily now. She often told Raff that she felt more Italian than American now and she knew he was pleased.
Today, the upper tea room was packed, but downstairs was quiet and cool. Inca took the opportunity to go down and clean. She didn’t see the two men enter behind her until one of them cleared their throat. They were dressed casually and wore friendly smiles, and she grinned back. “Hey, fellas, come on in. We have plenty of room. Upstairs or down. I’m Inca, so if you need anything, just ask.”
The two men looked at each other and for a second Inca wondered if they had understood her.
Then the large man grabbed her so quickly she couldn’t react, clamping a huge hand over her mouth and easily holding her arms with the other massive arm. Without hesitation, the other man stepped forward.
Terrified, Inca only saw a brief flash of steel before he drove the knife into her belly again and again.
The pain was unimaginable.
Enda tried to calm their guest down. “Sir, please …what is it?”
Fallwell gasped and gulped and finally calmed himself. “He has my wife and my four-year-old daughter. He told me he’ll kill them unless I brought you here today, at this time. Both of you.”
Both Enda and Raff knew instantly. Jackson. Raff leaned forward. “What does he want, Roger? Why bring us here today?”
Roger looked at Raff with sorrow-filled eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Winter …he wanted her unprotected.”
Raff’s color drained from his face. “No …no …not Inca …”
Roger started to sob again, nodding. “And, Mr. Gallo, he told me to tell you …this is it. This is where they all die, including Amalia.”
Stella, the tea house’s barista heard the scream from downstairs and hurried down. At first, she just saw the shocked tourist standing at the doorway, her hands at her mouth, staring down at the ground. As Stella rounded the corner, her heart almost failed.
Inca was splayed on the floor, eyes closed, with blood spreading everywhere across her dress. Dark purple knife wounds were on her stomach and belly. Her breathing was ragged and hitching, and as Stella dropped to her knees, Inca opened her eyes. In them, she saw confusion, bewilderment, and agony. On the floor beside her was a lethal-looking knife, covered in blood. The tourist was crying, but was on her phone, obviously calling the emergency services.
“Oh, mio Dio, mio Dio.” Panicked, Stella pressed her finger gently to Inca’s throat. There was a weak pulse, but it was slowing.
Inca made a strange noise, like she was fighting for breath, and then her eyes closed and her head slumped to the side. Stella knew instantly.
Inca was dying.
Then Stella too started to scream for help.
Raff was out of the restaurant in a second, his face yellow with terror, his phone to his ear. Enda followed him, trying to call Ama, but the phone was engaged. As he reached Raff, the other man was talking to someone on the phone. He looked at Enda, and there was untold grief in his green eyes.
“Oh god, no, please …yes, yes. No, I’m coming now …god, please, Stella …tell me she’s still breathing …thank god …I’m on my way.”
He turned to Enda, who was still trying to call Ama. “Inca was stabbed. It’s bad, Enda. It’s so bad …god … I have to go. Get to Ama, now. This is Jackson. I know it.”
Enda drove like a madman back to the villa, still unable to reach Ama on the phone. As the car screeched to a halt outside, he could see his security team in disarray, and it was only when Ama flew out of the house and into his arms, obviously healthy and apparently safe, that he could breathe again.
But Ama was hysterical, and he couldn’t understand what she was saying at first.
“Baby, calm down. Tell me. Calm down …”
“He has her, Enda …he has my sister …”
Oh god …Selima …Enda was staggered at the scope of Jackson’s revenge plan. First Inca, now Selima.
“What does he want?”
Ama looked like she was about to pass out. “Me. He told me he will kill her unless I go to him.”
“No …no …not going to happen.”
“Enda, I don’t have a choice. Do you honestly think he won’t go through with it if I don’t?”
Enda closed his eyes and thought about Inca. No …Jackson would happily kill Selima.
Just like he would, without a doubt, murder Ama the moment she went to him.
There were no happy endings here …
Ama sat on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, her head in her hands. Thankfully, the nausea that had attacked her so suddenly in the night had passed. Enda tilted her head up gently and pressed a cold flannel to her burning forehead. Her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep and crying, but Enda was concerned about the utter despair in them.
Jackson had taken Selima and had ordered a hit on Inca, who was fighting for her life in a local hospital after two of Jackson’s men had brutally stabbed her and left her for dead.
Raff’s voice on the phone had sounded like it coming from the grave. “They’re still operating …they said she’d been stabbed nine times …oh god …I thought that part of our lives was over. I don’t know if she’ll make it, Enda. I really don’t.” He sounded broken.
She’s going to die … Enda pushed the thought away. Come on, Inks …you can survive this …you must.
When he’d told Ama about Inca, just after she’d had the news that Selima was abducted, she’d collapsed, screaming and sobbing great, wrenching sobs. Enda knew she blamed herself, but now he was more concerned by her silence than her screams.
The police had told them to sit tight while they contacted Olivier, and an hour later, Olivier had called them.
“He’s obviously been planning this for months,” Olivier said, sounding as desolate as they did. “He emptied his accounts and sold most of the stuff from the house. When they went there tonight, it was on fire. It was gutted …the house is gone, man. All dad’s stuff. Enda, he’s got unlimited funds. He can hide anywhere in the world and he won’t stop until Ama’s in his grip.”
“Not going to happen,” Enda said grimly. “He’ll kill her the minute she goes to him.”
“Agreed. Look, my suggestion is to stay there. It’s too dangerous here, even though I don’t think Jackson is even in the States anymore. He’s gone underground. Someone, somewhere surely will have to see him sometime, right? I’ve already sent out a team to scour California.”
Enda sighed. “Good. I’ll do the same here. Listen, Tommaso Winter said the same thing. We need to cover the globe. He spoke to Raffaelo—you can imagine what he said.”
“How is Inca?” Olivier’s voice was soft; he loved Inca as much as the rest of them.
“Not good, brother. Not good at all. God, poor Raff.”
“What is this, now? The fourth or fifth attempt on her life? That’s way too much for any lifetime.”
Enda tried not to let the tears in his eyes fall. He pinched them shut with his fingers. “Let’s hope we can still say it was only an attempt when this is all over. Raff won’t survive if Inca dies.”
There was a heavy silence on the other end of the phone. “Enda …when we find Jackson,” Olivier hesitated, then sighed. “You know what I’m going to say.”
“Yes,” said Enda in a hard voice. “And to answer you …yes. I want that fucker dead. I know he’s your brother, but …”
“He’s no brother of mine,” Olivier said. “Live or die …he’s dead to me now.”
Enda heard the heartbreak in Olivier’s voice and felt the weight of responsibility. His older brother had always been the peacemaker—the steadying hand. Enda hated that he was alone in San Francisco, dealing with all this. “Come to Italy,” he urged. “Be with us.”
Oliver gave a short, sad laugh. “Believe me, I’d like nothing better …but someone needs to be here. Besides, Selima’s boyfriend could still give us some information.”
Chase, Selima’s boyfriend of a few weeks, had been shot and critically wounded when Selima was abducted. He had been trying to defend his girlfriend and took a bullet to the chest.
“Fuck,” said Enda, “What a mess.”
Olivier sighed. “Yeah …and right now, I just don’t see how it could get any worse.”
A week later and nothing had changed. Ama stared out of the window at the heavy security around their villa and felt like a prisoner. Not just here in Italy—but of Jackson’s. He hadn’t contacted her again after that first call, when he’d sounded so triumphant.
“I told you there would be no limit to what I could do if you defied me, Amalia …now say hello to your little sister.”
Selima’s sobs—her cries of pain—as Jackson obviously inflicted harm on her, wherever he was holding her. Ama had screamed at Jackson, but he’d merely laughed and told her to wait for his next call.
A week. Doing God knows what to Selima …fuck.
She went to look for Enda, who was in his office with Tommaso Winter and their respective chiefs of security.
She nodded at Tommaso. He looked desolate. Inca was in a coma, still hovering on the brink of life, and Ama knew Tommaso was trying to keep it together and support his brother as Inca fought to recover. Tommaso smiled at her, his eyes tired and heavy. Ama touched Enda’s arm.
“Baby, can I talk to you for a minute?”
Enda nodded and followed her out of the room. She led him into their bedroom and closed the door. Enda opened his arms, and she went into them. He kissed her tenderly. “Are you okay, Piccolo?”
Under Her Skin Page 104