Ama shook her head. “I’ll be here with Inca. Take as long as you need.”
Inca woke less than ten minutes later, and Ama helped her sip from a cup of water. Inca smiled at her. “Hey, you. How are you? Is there any news?”
Ama bugged at her. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking if you’re okay?”
“Well,” Inca looked down at the heavy bandaging around her torso. “I’m going to say I’m all set.” She grinned, but then her smile faded. “And don’t even think you’re responsible for this. Raff told me that’s what you told Enda and it’s a bunch of crap. This is all Jackson Gallo. Asshole.”
‘Asshole’ was such an understatement when it came to describing Jackson that suddenly Ama got the giggles. Inca looked at her in surprise, then started to laugh too. “Oww, oww, don’t make me laugh. My stomach muscles are compromised. Oww!” But she dissolved into giggles too.
“I don’t know why I’m laughing,” Ama said, wiping her eyes, “You’re in here, my sister’s still missing, and Jackson …”
“Is still breathing,” Inca said, her smile fading. “Girl, if you can wait until I’m mobile, I say you and me go Black Ops on his ass.”
“From your lips to God’s ear, Inks. But seriously now, I am so sorry you got dragged into this. I can’t imagine what it was like.”
Inca winced a little as she shifted in the bed. “Personal. That’s the word I keep coming back to. The man who stabbed me …it was personal for him. He enjoyed it. He got off on sticking that knife in my belly. Jackson’s surrounded himself with men like him. Psychotic, sociopathic, and devoid of empathy. They like to kill, and they like to kill women.”
Ama dropped her head in her hands and moaned. “Inks…I can’t sit around waiting for Jackson to kill Selima. I know the men are doing everything their money will allow. It’s not enough.”
Inca was studying her. “Now I know you’re not thinking about going to Jackson?”
Ama met her gaze. “If it was a choice between you and Raffaelo …what would you do?”
“Jesus, Ama …you can’t ask me that. Goddamn it.” Inca’s voice broke. “I wish you hadn’t told me. Please, darling, I’m begging you. Don’t give in to him.”
Ama shook her head. “No, you misunderstand me. I have no intention of giving into him. I’m going to kill him.”
Ama was quiet on the way back to the villa that night, and when they got home, Enda sent the staff home and they went to their bedroom. Enda sat on the bed. “What’s going on in that mind?” he asked gently.
Ama sat next to him, brushing her fingers through his hair. “Enda …I think we need to go back to San Francisco.”
Enda looked at her, and she could see the conflict in her mind. Finally, he sighed. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. We’re not getting anywhere here. It’s just …the thought of you being in his sightline.”
“We don’t know he’s there, but I guarantee he’ll be watching. We go back. I go back to work as if nothing’s changed. We—you and I—will be visible in society. We goad him into contacting me again. We make a deal. Me for Seli—“
“No way. That’s not’s going to happen, cara mia,” Enda got up and paced the room. “I agree we should be there, but if you think we’re going to use you as bait.”
Ama sighed. “I think it’s too late to consider anything else, baby. I am his bait. I’m what he wants. We’ve established he could be anywhere in the world, which means I’m already in his sights. He knows we’re here. That’s why he sent men to kill Inca. He wanted me to know he is always close.”
Enda looked unhappy and was silent for a long time, looking out of the window. Finally, he returned to her side. “Fine. But the level of personal security you’re getting will be insane, okay? Please. I know you hate the intrusion, but this is your life we’re talking about. Until Jackson is …put out of action …you’ll have to promise me.”
Ama nodded slowly and met his gaze. “I promise, Enda. I do. But we’re getting Selima back alive.”
He pressed his lips to hers and she kissed him back, almost urgently. “Take me to bed, Enda, and fuck me hard.”
She felt his lips curl up in a smile. “That’s my girl.”
He pushed her back on the bed and began to unbutton her dress, taking the time to kiss every inch of skin he uncovered. Ama sighed, giving into the sensations he was sending through her. When his mouth found her sex, she shivered, and as his tongue lashed around her clit, she stroked his hair. “Baby, I want to taste you too.”
Enda grinned at her, then stepped back, stripped off, and climbed onto the bed so she could take him into her mouth while his tongue returned to tease her clit. His cock filled her mouth, the silky skin of the shaft soft against her exploring tongue, the underlying muscle growing more rigid. She moaned as Enda spread her legs wider and plunged his tongue deep into her cunt. His cock grew hard in her mouth as she teased the sensitive tip with her tongue, and she tasted the salty pre-cum. As they drove each other on, Enda came in her mouth, and she swallowed him down greedily. Almost frenzied in their lust, Enda moved to kiss her mouth, pushing her knees to her chest, and she clawed at his back as he slammed his cock into her, biting down on her shoulders and breasts. She screamed his name as he made her cum over and over, tangling her fingers in his dark curls and pulling hard. It was the most feral, uninhibited fuck they had ever had, and Ama felt strength and ferocity running hot through her veins.
As Enda Gallo, her love and her life, fucked her long and hard into the night, Amalia smiled to herself. Fuck you, Jackson. You’ll never take this away from me.
You’re going down, asshole.
San Francisco, a week later …
It was almost as if Ama expected Jackson to be waiting at the airport, Selima in one hand and a gun in the other. The nightmares plagued her. Selima crying, bruised, begging Ama not to do it. Jackson’s triumphant grin as he let Selima run to Enda, then shoved the muzzle of the gun against Ama’s belly and pulled the trigger.
She shivered. She knew it was ridiculous, but when they landed the private jet at the airport and stepped out into the California sunshine, she scanned the area looking for him. Instead, a dark-windowed town car pulled up, and Olivier—lovely, sweet Olivier got out. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to go down the steps. Olivier swept her up in a bear hug. “God, it’s good to see you, little one.”
Ama clung onto him. He looked tired and drawn. “I’m sorry we left you alone for so long with this, Olly.”
He held her tightly. “As long as you’re safe, that’s all I care about …and I bring positive news. Chase is out of his coma and talking. We think Selima is still in the state, but being hidden in an underground facility. After he was shot, Chase said he remained conscious long enough to hear Jackson say to take Selima to the ‘facility’ and that he “will join them in an hour.” The F.B.I. have gone over Jackson’s records with a fine-tooth comb. They have a few leads.”
Ama’s heart was in her throat. “God, really?”
Olivier grinned at her and his brother. “Really. Now let’s get you home.”
Jackson Gallo was informed that Ama and Enda were back in San Francisco less than half an hour later. He smiled smugly – Ama knew she was in a no-win position and Jackson banked on her doing everything to get her sister back alive.
He moved quickly through the corridors of the underground facility he had purchased after he had become engaged to Ama. He had it fitted out with comfortable rooms, hot water, heating, kitchens, and bathrooms; he knew that Amalia Rai did not want to marry him and he did not want to have to resort to the lengths he had with Penelope. After all, the goal was to sleep with Ama, not kill her—not at first—so if she had defied him, then he would have brought her here and kept her confined until he decided her punishment.
Now it had proved useful for her sister. Selima Rai wasn’t as spirited as her sister, but she still tried to attack him every time he went near her. Now she was handcuffed to the bed, and when Jackson went to tau
nt her, he made sure to stay out of her reach.
He opened the door to her room. Selima glared at him, but didn’t get up. Her hair hung in strands around her face. Jackson sighed. “For god’s sake, clean yourself up. You look terrible.”
“Fuck you, Jackson, I don’t have to look pretty for anyone, let alone the man who kidnapped me and killed my boyfriend.”
Jackson shrugged. “He got in the way. If you and your sister didn’t act like whores, none of this would be happening.”
Selima spat at him. “You’re pathetic.”
Jackson wiped his face. “And, yet, I seem to be holding all of the cards.”
“She won’t come back to you. I won’t permit it. Enda, Olivier …they won’t permit it. So, you might as well kill me now and cut your losses.”
Jackson rolled his eyes. “You know, you could be grateful. There’s a cell in this building. A great, hard, cold concrete cell that you could be in. It’s only through my good graces that you’re keep fed, warmed, and in this luxury.” He gestured around the comfortable room with its four-poster bed and big-screen T.V. “Shut your mouth, enjoy what you’ve got here, and pray I don’t kill you the second Ama comes back to me.”
Selima went quiet then, and Jackson turned to go. Before he reached the door, she spoke up, her voice breaking.
“Are you going to kill Ama?”
He didn’t answer her.
Chase Caplan felt like a hole had been punched through his chest. Which, come to think of it, it had, he thought and grinned to himself. It took a lot to make Chase feel down, but being shot had come pretty close. After waking up from his coma, his first question had been “Is Selima okay?”
When he was told, she was still missing, he hadn’t hesitated in asking to talk to the police, and to Olivier. The doctors had wanted him to take it easy. He ignored them.
Today, he would meet Selima’s sister for the first time. He wondered how he would feel, seeing someone who resembled his lover so much. In the few weeks, he and Selima had been together, he had fallen hard for the tiny Indian-American woman. Every moment they were together was the most fun he’d ever had, and even though he was a salt-of-the-earth, straight-A, country boy, he found himself acting more spontaneously …recklessly? Had they been reckless the night Selima had been taken?
There had been a roof party at one of their friend’s apartments, and they had stayed late, Selima sitting on his lap as they shared a beach chair. The night had been sultry, lines of twinkle lights strung around the rooftop and soft music playing. Selima had snuggled into his big chest, and he had kissed the top of her head.
“Hey, beauty.”
“Hey, you.” She’d looked up at him as he kissed her mouth gently. Selima had sighed happily. “God, what a great night.”
“Not over yet.” He’d grinned at her meaningfully, and she’d laughed.
“You know,” she’d lowered her voice. “My place is only about four blocks from here …but there are a lot of dark alleyways we could take shortcuts through.”
He had gotten her meaning and chuckled. “Why, Ms. Rai, you’re tryin’ to ruin my reputation, huh?”
They had made their way home, ducking into alleyways to make out, and when they had reached the one nearest Selima’s apartment, she’d grinned up at him, leaning back against the wall and hitching up her skirt. “Come here, farm boy, and fuck me good.”
Chase had laughed, but gathered her to him, pressing her back against the wall and sliding her panties down her legs. Selima’s hands had been at his fly, freeing his engorged cock from his underwear. He’d thrust into her, and she’d given a half-shocked laugh at the force of him. They’d fucked silently against the wall, only pausing mid-way as an elderly man walked past the end of the alleyway, stopping to let his dog pee on a dumpster. Selima had started giggling, and Chase had to put his hand over her mouth to silence her.
Stumbling home afterward, neither of them had seen the men waiting for them. When one had stepped out of the shadows and grabbed Selima, Chase was on him immediately. Then the other guy had begun to pull him away, Selima screaming at them.
“Don’t hurt the girl.” He’d heard a clipped American accent, glanced around, and recognized Jackson Gall immediately. Jackson had smirked, holding Selima back as the men had whaled on Chase, and when one had knocked him to the ground, the other had pulled out a gun, and Chase had felt his chest explode. Selima had screamed as Chase realized he’d been shot and that he could no longer move his body. His head had whirled as he saw Selima pushed into a car. “Take her to the facility,” Jackson Gallo had instructed his men, “I’ll follow you in an hour.”
Chase had wanted to shout, to scream, to tell Selima he would save her, but he hadn’t been able to speak or move. His entire body had been cold—too cold. Gallo had leaned over him and smiled. “I really don’t care if you live or die, my friend, but if you live, tell Amalia this …her sister will suffer the same fate as Penelope and Inca unless she comes back to me. Tell her to wait for my call.”
Chase closed his eyes, and for once, let the despair take over him. Selima, I will do everything I can to find you. But he felt helpless.
An hour later, he felt the despair even more keenly when Selima’s sister walked into the room, took one look at him, and put her arms around him. Then, for only the third time in his twenty-six years on the planet, Chase Caplan cried.
Inca finished another book, then put it on the pile next to her bed. Her recovery was going well, but slowly—and she was bored. Raff, Tommaso, and Bo kept her company as much as they could, but Raffaelo was looking for the men who had tried to kill his beloved wife, as well as helping out Enda and Ama, and Bo and Tommaso had seven kids to try to juggle. Stella and a couple of other girls from the tea house had been in to see her, as well as some of her friends from Naples, but they treated her as if she were a fragile thing and Inca had had enough of it. She was pissed, almightily pissed, at being back in this situation.
When Raffaelo came in to see her, she had worked herself up into a temper. “I want out of here, Raff. Tonight. I’m not even on any drips or feeds or whatever anymore. I hate this. I hate being here.”
Raff let her rant away, holding her hand. The psych doctor had told him to expect this—to expect a kickback from not having processed the attack. Inca had told the police everything, then had not wanted to talk about it again. Neither had she wanted to discuss the baby. Raffaelo could see the heartbreak in her eyes, but she would not even contemplate what their lives would have been like if their child had been born. They had tested the dead embryo and discovered it was a girl, but Raffaelo had not told Inca that. She was particularly close to Tommaso and Bo’s only daughter, Hermione (named by their two oldest sons, who were Harry Potter mad), and Raff had caught her looking wistfully at the girl as she played with her brothers.
Damn it. Even his chest cramped up with despair as he thought about how close they had come to being parents. A little girl, he thought, who looked like her beautiful mother and maybe had my eyes.
But it wasn’t to be. Raff waited for Inca to rant herself out, then held her as she started to cry. He knew it was just frustration; Inca wasn’t someone who felt sorry for herself.
When she was just hiccupping, and looking embarrassed, he brushed his lips against hers, back and forth, until he felt her lips curve up in a smile. They knew each other so completely now and had perfect trust between them.
Inca drew away and touched his cheek. “Sorry, baby.”
“Don’t apologize. I love you, Principessa.”
She sighed and smiled. “As I love you. Give me some good news, darling.”
Raff grinned. “I can, actually. Selima’s boyfriend woke up and has given them some great information. They think Jackson has her somewhere in California.”
Inca’s eyes opened wide. “Wow, that is good news. Are you going to California, then?”
Raff was astonished. “Are you kidding me? I’m not leaving you alone.”
&
nbsp; “Baby, you have three armed guards outside my hospital room at all times. No one is getting in here.”
Raff shook his head. “Inca, there’s no doubt in my mind that the men who stabbed you are still in Naples. They will have been told to watch us and possibly finish the job.” He swallowed hard and shook his head at that. “Finish the job if you survive. And you have. I’m not letting you out of my sight, Principessa. I will find them, and I will kill them. I promise you that.”
Inca took his hand, seeing his distress. “I love you, Raffaelo Winter.”
“Ti amo, Inca. Ti amo.”
Ama and Chase talked for hours, until she could see the young man was exhausted. He still protested when she told him he needed to rest. “I’ll come back tomorrow, if I may. Enda won’t let me go back to work just yet, until he puts all the protection he wants into place, so I’ll go crazy stuck at Olivier’s house alone.”
Chase nodded. “Please do. I’d like you to meet my family when they come visit me.”
Ama gingerly hugged him. “Selima has good taste in men.”
Chase laughed. “She’ll tell you what a doofus I am when she comes home.”
They smiled, but the hopelessness they both felt was palpable. Ama shook herself. “We’ll get her back, Chase, I promise.”
The young man’s eyes were serious. “Don’t promise that.”
Ama nodded. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t …but I will stop at nothing to get her home safely. Goodnight, Chase.”
“Night, Ama. See you tomorrow.”
Her protection detail—two huge, heavily armed men called Trevor and Dustin—drove her back to Olivier’s house. When she got home, only Enda was waiting for her. “Olivier’s had to go to New York for business overnight.”
Ama went into his arms. “God, I missed you today.”
Enda smiled and brushed his lips against hers. “And I missed you. Tell me what Chase said.” He led her to the sofa and Ama filled him in on everything Chase had told her. When she repeated Jackson’s threat about Penelope and Inca, Enda nodded slowly. “Interesting. So, does he think Inca is dead?”
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