by Naomi West
“I believe you,” I say, shyly making eye contact.
A smile breaks over his face and it momentarily stuns me. He loses ten years when he smiles like that. He almost looks like the high school version of himself that hangs in a picture frame back at his mother’s house.
“Good,” he says, swatting at my bare butt. “Now let’s get cleaned up before we go back for dinner with my parents.”
I stand and follow him back to the shower. I absently touch a hand to my lips and know that I would follow him anywhere.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Alessia
Annabelle slaps more mashed potatoes than I could eat in a week onto my plate. We’re sitting around their kitchen table again and I’ve found myself with another mugful of beer.
“Ma, she’s just one woman,” Dare says and tries to scoop some back into the pot but his mother slaps his hand.
“She’s too skinny!” Annabelle says and gives me an affectionate wink. “She could use a little meat on her bones.”
“I think I’ve got to much meat on my bones already!” I insist, glancing down at my curvy body.
Alistair clears his throat from where he sits at my left and tears a hunk of bread off the loaf. “I think my son would beg to differ on that point, my dear.”
I glance over at Dare to find him ogling my body. How can he possibly still have that much sex in his eyes? We literally fucked for hours today. I guess I can’t complain about it. He makes me feel the same way. I try to cover it up a little when we’re sitting at his mother’s dinner table.
I feel my cheeks go pink and he sends me a wolfish little smile, his hand searching for mine under the table.
“So, how do you find Adair’s cottage?” Annabelle asks me.
I swallow the swig of beer I’ve just taken. “It’s so lovely. The view and the shrub roses. Not to mention the colors on the inside. I love all the whites and the blues.”
Alistair grins. “Good. Maybe since you like it so much, Adair will have reason to come back and use it a little more often.”
“I’ll have a lot of time to use it actually,” Dare says and leans back in his chair, a serious look in his eye for his parents. “I quit my job working for Alessia’s father today.”
His parents go still and I can’t read the energy coming off either of them.
“Oh?” his mother eventually says.
Dare nods. “It was too complicated, trying to balance my relationship with Alessia and everything that’s happened. I don’t want to feel beholden to Patrizzio anymore. I just want to do right by Alessia.”
His thumb strokes over my hand under the table and my heart squeezes.
“So you’re out of work then?” His father has a fierce look on his face and I feel Dare tense next to me.
“I guess you could put it that way.”
The silence at the table stretches out and I fight the urge to wiggle in discomfort. I want to open my mouth and say something on Dare’s behalf, but I’m not entirely sure what’s going on and I don’t want to get in the way of something I don’t know anything about.
His father finally speaks. “That’s good. I think that’s really good.”
Dare’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead as he looks between his mother and his father. They are both smiling at him. “You’re kidding.”
“No,” his father says as he shakes his head. “I never liked you working for that man. No offense, my dear,” he says gently as he lays a hand over mine.
“No offense taken,” I say, “I wouldn’t want someone I love working for my father either.”
“It was always just too dangerous,” Annabelle says before starting to scoop roast chicken onto everyone’s plate. “We were more scared for you when you were working for Patrizzio than when you were enlisted.”
Dare shakes his head and looks down at his plate. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved. Work like that gets a little old after a while.”
He looks up and I can see he doesn’t want to tell his parents this next part. I don’t blame him. Giving these lovely people bad news is like kicking puppies.
“But there is one more thing I have to take care of. Back in Chicago. To really end it all.”
“You’re leaving,” Annabelle says and I can see the fear rising up in her. I want to punch myself in the face for being the cause of all this worry.
“Tomorrow morning,” Dare nods. “I’m going to take care of a few things. I’ll be back a few days later. I’d like for Alessia to stay here in the meantime.”
“Of course,” Alistair says and I’m a little surprised at the conviction in his voice. “She’ll stay in the main house with us.”
Dare and his father make eye contact, exchanging words without even speaking and I follow their gazes to a shotgun in the corner of the kitchen, leaned up casually against the door jamb.
I try to swallow the potatoes I’m chewing and feel them stick in my throat. These people are sticking their necks out for me.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice shaking a little. “I-I don’t know how to thank you enough.”
“Oh, none of that, my love,” Annabelle says, passing a handkerchief across the table, “even if we didn’t already see how special you are, we’d still know that you’re Adair’s heart. And that’s worth protecting.”
I wipe my eyes and the dinner conversation turns to lighter topics. All the things that his parents want us to do and see when Dare gets home in a few days. I get the feeling that they really want to convince me that Scotland is a lovely place to live. By the end of the meal, I’m warmed from the inside out. The food and the drink and the company has soothed me as much as is possible.
Before Dare is slated to leave we hold hands as we cross back over the darkened field that night toward his cottage. We don’t speak as we enter the house and cross to the bedroom. We don’t speak as he stokes the fire or as we undress each other. Even as the moonlight streams across our naked bodies, straining against and clutching each other, we’re silent.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dare
Artuz picks me up from the airport. The dreary Chicago winter paints the streets gray as we drive back toward Patrizzio’s mansion.
“The girl is safe?” Artuz asks, exiting off the highway. It’s the first words we’ve spoken beyond our greetings when I got in the car. He got the brief I sent him from Scotland. He knows the plan.
I turn to Artuz and study his profile. I’ve worked with him for over ten years. We were in the military together. He’s gotten me out of more jams than I care to remember. Alessia never liked him much, and I guess I can understand that. Artuz is a sleaze but kind of a lovable one, once you get to know him. There’s no one else I’d rather have on my side for what we’re about to do.
“Yeah. She’s secure.”
“Good. I always liked that chick. Always made me nervous having her so wrapped up in Patrizzio’s world. No good.”
I grunt. Couldn’t have said it better myself.
“Look, Guinne, I know all of this is on a need to know basis, but there’s something I’m confused about.”
I turn to him and raise my eyebrows. I already know what he’s about ask. It’s a fair question, considering I’m asking him to put his life on the line in about forty different ways over the next forty-eight hours. “Go ahead.”
“Patrizzio’s going down for it this time. I mean, even his snake of a lawyer says he can’t get off scot free again. He’s got weapons charges, all that coke, and you know his gun is gonna get him connected to at least a few murders. Hell, I can think of six off the top of my head right now.”
“Get to the point, Artuz.”
He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “My point is that Patrizzio’s going away and probably not coming back for at least a decade. Dante and Fabi are out of the game. Everybody but Patrizzio can see that. Despite whatever the fuck they just pulled to get him arrested, they are not trying to take over the empire.”
“S
o?”
“So, the empire is dead, my man. Why the fuck are we going after Greco? We don’t answer to Patrizzio no more. We’re free, man. I mean, you know I love a good firefight as much as the next man. And if you’re going in, I’m going in, but we could be free, man. We could walk away from this. Find some new city, some new moneybags to protect. Hopefully somebody who’s not quite as willing to get his hands so dirty.”
I watch the landscape pass us by and consider my next words very carefully. “You don’t have to do this, Artuz. It’s certainly not in your job description. But I’m not going after Greco for Patrizzio.” Artuz turns to look at me as we pull up to a red light. I look right back at him. “I’m going after him for Alessia.”
A light turns on in Artuz’s eyes and the smirk that flickers over his face almost makes me want to smack it right off. “I see. Mixing a little business with pleasure, are we?” When I say nothing, he continues. “Collecting gratuities from Daddy’s girl, huh? A little holiday bonus?”
I cuff Artuz on the back of his head and he laughs, swerving the car a little.
“Shut the fuck up, Artuz. It’s not like that.”
“How’s it like then?”
“She’s gonna be my wife.”
The car swerves for real this time. “You serious, Guinne?”
“Dead ass serious.”
“Damn,” he runs a hand over his face. “Hell of a thing to love a girl with a target like that on her back.”
“I know. Which is why I’m ending this with Greco.”
“No shit. He gets his hands on her, he’s gonna skin her alive and send you her fingernails in the mail. Sick fuck, that one.”
I know Artuz is sort of joking, but it still completely curdles my stomach. “Alright, enough talking about our feelings here. Let’s talk logistics. Have you been back to the house yet?”
We need to head to Patrizzio’s mansion in order to take advantage of the arsenal he has in his basement. There’s enough weapons down there to start war with Canada if we wanted. We need to get ahold of them if we’re going to stand a chance against Greco.
Artuz shakes his head. “Nah, I ain’t been back. I figured when he got brought up that we were done with him. And the rest of the boys from the security team scattered in the wind just as soon as they were cleared of charges. So,” he shrugs, “didn’t have a reason.”
I scratch at my stubble as we take the back roads into Patrizzio’s neighborhood. “I checked the security cameras and motion sensors and nothing seems like it’s been disturbed in any of the main rooms or in the weapons cellar. There’ve been some disturbances in the kitchen and in one of the living wings of the house. The cameras were disabled though.”
Artuz’s eyes furrowed. “What do you think? Squatters?”
“Not sure. But we’re about to find out.”
Artuz parks the car a few streets down from the grounds of Patrizzio’s sprawling mansion. I keep one hand on the gun cocked at my side and one on my phone. I disable security feature after security feature so that we can pass, reactivating them as soon as we’re gone. Artuz and I don’t bother with skirting the perimeter. We know this land like the backs of our hands. We cut through the yard, keeping close to the trees and statues that litter the garden.
Normally, I would have had us enter the weapons cellar directly, not bothering to head through the house at all. But because there’s obviously someone else inside, I need to figure out who it is and what the hell they’re doing there. If it’s one of Greco’s men, keeping watch, waiting for somebody to return, we need to make sure he can’t raise the alarm on us. The element of surprise is crucial right now.
We approach the side of the dark house. All the lights inside are off, a sure sign that Patrizzio isn’t living there anymore. He would never leave the house dark like that. He often roamed the halls late at night. Even when he was sleeping, he didn’t like anyone watching the house to know when he was. Most of the lights used to blaze all night. A sudden memory flashes of a twelve-year-old Alessia stomping her foot and waving their electric bill under his nose.
“We’re destroying the earth here, Dad!” she’d screamed at him. He’d sent her away, tossing the bill into a drawer, but he’d looked proud of her too, for standing up to him. That was the thing about Patrizzio that was always so tragic. He loved his kids so much but everything he ever did just sent them further away from him.
The house hulks over us and as we approach the side, Artuz automatically drops down to boost me up to the second-floor window. He knows I won’t want to enter on the ground floor and have to wind my way upstairs to find the source of the disturbance. I step up from his handhold and easily pull myself up to the windowsill above, balancing myself like a cat.
I disable the window alarm on my phone and then slide out a small knife from my pocket. I slide the knife into two different edges of the window, unlatching their safety locks. The window slides up easily and I step in, reaching back out to lift up Artuz.
“This place is way too easy to break into,” he mutters, dusting himself off and closing the window behind him.
“It is when you hold the keys in your hand,” I say, holding up my phone. But I can’t help but agree with him a little bit. I’d always wanted Patrizzio to beef up the locks on the windows and doors in this place but he was convinced that his reputation protected him better than any latch ever could. He was confident that no one would ever be foolish to try and break into his home because of what he would do to them if he found them. In a way, he was right. Until Greco came along there was no one who ever challenged his reputation.
Artuz and I stalk silently through the halls. I know exactly where we’re going. It’s to one of the guest bedrooms. I can see on my phone the motion detectors are currently being tripped. There’s movement in there right now.
We pause outside of the bedroom and I take a deep breath. I square my body, shift my weight and kick the door off the hinges. Nothing has prepared me for what is on the other side that door.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Alessia
Dare has been gone less than twenty-four hours and I feel like I’m coming out of my skin. Actually, I’m too exhausted to come out of my skin. His mother has given me every task under the sun to do.
“It helps keep your mind off him,” she had told me, shoving a mop into my hands. So far, I’ve baked three loaves of bread, scrubbed every inch of his cottage clean, dug a new path through his garden, and started mending the holes in an old patchwork quilt that Annabelle insisted was his favorite. I didn’t know how to do any of that, but suddenly I feel like an expert under Annabelle’s tutelage.
Nothing will keep my mind off of Dare. What he’s doing, where he is, who he’s with. Before he left, Dare pressed a small burner phone into my hand. There was only one number programmed into it.
“Don’t call it,” he’d said, “I’ll call you when everything is over. When I’m on my way home.”
The phone sits in my pocket like a silent, heavy stone as I lean over the quilt making tiny little stitches. I should go upstairs to rest, but I’m afraid I’ll just toss and turn all night. I try not to think about Greco, but his face keeps pushing into my mind.
I’ve only ever met him once. I was about fourteen years old. I came home from school to find him sitting in my father’s parlor. Greco was not as powerful then as he is now but he was already evil. I knew that the second I entered the room. His hollowed-out face and weirdly hungry stare had sent shivers down my back. A young man had sat next to him, his son, looking just as weirdly hollow as Greco himself. Greco had called me a lovely girl to my father. I’d felt like there was ice water in my heart. When it was clear that he’d become an enemy, a rival, I’d never been more grateful to be going to school out of state. I just wanted to be away from sociopathic mobsters.
The night passes slowly as Dare’s parents putter around, tidying up from dinner and eventually relaxing in front of the fire in the living room. Before bed, they both
kiss me on the forehead, which I find incredibly endearing. I go upstairs to sleep in the bedroom I slept in on my first night in Scotland and I picture Dare lying next to me. Holding me the way he did that night, like I was the only thing keeping him from spinning off into space.
I’ll never be able to sleep, not with my mind racing the way it is, but it isn’t long before my mind is drifting away. My worried thoughts give way to gentle dreams, soothed by the lull of the ocean outside my window.