by Dee, Cara
I hummed along with the song playing. The best one by Vangelis, in my opinion. “Conquest of Paradise”—what a masterpiece.
“I have supplies in the cane,” Alessandro snapped. “Heroin, cocaine, knife. It does not show on—ah, airport computer.”
“That’s cool,” I commented. “Plus, it’s a wicked accessory and weapon. I call dibs on yours. I hope you don’t mind.”
The kid sneered at me before looking away. “I won’t speak again. I have honor.”
There we fucking go. “Honor doesn’t get you into heaven, mate.”
He couldn’t resist that one. He furrowed his brow and glanced at the surveillance camera. “I have redeemed myself.”
I sincerely doubted that, and it didn’t matter. “To be frank, I don’t care. I’m more interested in how many you’re willing to sacrifice in your own downfall.” I flicked some ashes into an old coffee mug. “See, this is what I tell my men. Don’t fucking get caught, because once you do, I don’t blame anyone for bargaining for their life.”
“Begging,” he spat out, like it was something foul. It was followed by a string of Italian insults about what a pussy I was.
I sighed and told Uncle T to give Joel the green light again.
Bianchi cursed us to the fiery pits of hell and thrashed in his chair, to no avail. A shot went off on the screen, echoing into the office, letting everyone know there were two down and two to go.
“Who gives a shit about their honor?” I asked. “Those men who just died—their wives will remarry, their children will have new fathers. They will be nothing but a memory and an expense. Funerals are fucking costly. But hey, at least they abided by the code of silence, eh?”
Goddamn idiots.
“You cannot make me believe I stand a chance,” Bianchi said, breathing heavily. “There is no use in bargaining when I am already dead.”
“Your daughter isn’t.”
That worked. All the color drained from Bianchi’s face, and he shook his head slowly. Desperation seeped into his eyes. “You would not. Women and children are off-limits.”
Something we agreed on, as a general rule, and I sure as shite had no intention of laying a finger on his baby. But it was really up to him in the end. “You’ve forced my entire family into hiding,” I told him. “There isn’t much I wouldn’t do at this point.”
“I am following orders!” he barked out.
And so the distancing began. The first crack in the cemented loyalty. He was only following orders.
“By choice.” I took a drag from my smoke. “You approached my wife, you scared her—by choice. I guess she wasn’t off-limits, huh?”
He heaved a breath and slumped forward. “What is it you want?”
He knew the stakes now. Was his honor worth more than the life of his daughter?
“I need you to make a phone call,” I answered. “Tomorrow, you will let Gio know that you’ve personally spotted me in Philly. And if Thomas so much as suspects you’ve let a warning slip by, I will wrap my fingers around your daughter’s neck and watch the light fade from her eyes.”
I made the Sign of the Cross and decided I was gonna call Father O’Malley after this. The thought of someone threatening my child like that made me burn with a rage that I wanted out of my system.
20
Emilia O’Shea
If I’d dared to dream about traveling the world before meeting Finnegan, it wouldn’t have included doing so while being on a freaking crime spree.
We arrived in Paris early on New Year’s Eve. The sun wasn’t up, and unlike London, this city slept sometimes. The streets were all but deserted at four in the morning, and Finnegan took the scenic route for my sake. He browsed through some songs on the dashboard display and settled for one he said Grace used to love. It was a song called “I Love Paris,” sung by Ella Fitzgerald.
I gathered his hand on my lap and gave it a squeeze as we reached the river.
“Over there, you see where the glass pyramid is?” He nodded up ahead. “That’s part of the Louvre.”
“Oh, that’s so cool.” I smiled.
He lifted our linked hands and kissed the tops of my fingers. “I’ll take you here one day like Pop took Ma. She adored Paris.” He grinned tenderly at something, maybe a memory. “She used to tell me how they could spend hours in a café—right around here, I reckon. Overlooking the river, watching people walk by, eating too many pastries. And…fuck, back then, I got restless just hearing about it.”
I laughed softly, trying to imagine my husband sitting down for more than one hour.
Especially these days. Not only because of…everything, but also because he was in a good mood since the gig in Amsterdam had paid off in more ways than they had hoped. And Finnegan in a good mood…? The Energizer Bunny had nothing on him.
“Now I wouldn’t mind it,” he murmured, glancing at the outdoor seating areas along the sidewalk. Chairs were stacked upon one another, and the heaters were chained together.
“Do they sit outside all year-round?” I wondered.
“Pretty much.”
I smiled and stroked his fingers absently. “Okay, I have to admit it’s a struggle to see you enjoying something like that.”
He chuckled and slowed down for a light, though it turned green as we got nearer. “Nah. I don’t know. But—you know, yeah, actually. That’s what I want right now. You and me in one of these places, talking, dreaming, just forgetting the world for a bit.”
He was so damn sweet sometimes.
“We could talk about names for the little one,” he mused. “Or you could tell me where to go when I suggest a man cave in our new house.”
I laughed and shook my head.
We didn’t even have a house yet, although he’d told me he’d bought a piece of land outside Philadelphia. Villanova was an upscale township, and I was sure I’d be overwhelmed by everything once we started buildi—
“Oh my God!” I gasped, interrupting my own thoughts.
It was the Eiffel Tower, and it was sparkling. Holy crap, it was big. And so beautiful. Thousands upon thousands of lights glittered across the statuesque monument.
The closer we got, the bigger it appeared.
“We’re in Paris, Finnegan.” I was in awe.
As we drove past it, he slowed down so I could soak it in, and I was almost leaning over him to peer out his window. Jesus, I was hooked. There was an entire world to see, and I couldn’t wait for the next thing to take my breath away.
This was what Finnegan gave to me. A life full of adventure, gut-churning uncertainties, luxuries like love and loyalty, wealth, protection, excitement, and probably early grays one day. For better and for worse, he paved his own way and got rid of those who harmed anyone he cared for.
Christ, he was dangerous.
I loved him with all that I was.
“I love you.” I popped a kiss to his cheek and slumped back in my seat.
“That makes me the luckiest fucker on the planet.” He smiled, switched gears, and sped up. “I love you too.”
Half an hour outside of Paris, we spent the day running through as many scenarios as we possibly could. It was nice to be part of a smaller group. It was only Finnegan, Eric, Liam, Colm, Conn, and me. The crew in Amsterdam was on standby, as were the others in London. Our next destination depended on the outcome of tonight’s findings.
While Conn and Colm had gone nuts this morning and rented a town car, two motorcycles, and three sports cars under various names, I had hired a personal shopper to get me a dress and Liam a tux.
I’d lost count of the cars I’d ridden in over the past six months.
I’d also lost count of the times I’d thrown up since discovering I was pregnant, although I wasn’t sure I could blame my barfing today on the baby. I was so fucking nervous that I didn’t know what to do with myself, and I couldn’t show it to Finnegan. He’d pull the plug on everything.
So I kept my face composed and told him it was his child’s fault I couldn’t keep
any food down today.
We’re a bunch of liars…
There was no privacy either. The apartment we called ours today was only a one-bedroom place in a neighborhood of upper-working-class high-rises, and the space was pretty empty. The bedroom with no bed in it had become Eric’s office; there was a desk, two chairs, and his equipment. The living room had three small couches, the kitchen…I couldn’t call it that. Kitchenette was more like it, and it was empty too. Finnegan had made sure the fridge was stocked with ginger ale and other sodas, and there was ice in the freezer.
My stomach snarled as I stepped out of the tiny shower.
I dried off with the towel I’d packed and felt the impatience rising. I had to eat, and I didn’t wanna wait. It was possible I texted Finnegan from the bathroom and asked him to order me a big Greek salad. And I wanted plain rice with butter. And bread. Lots of bread.
My husband was a good Irish boy, because he didn’t laugh or question me. Nor did he add any suggestions. He’d learned from the time he suggested…cold cuts…oh barf. Nausea crawled up my throat, and I took a couple slow, deep breaths and opened the door. Fresh air.
For the record, I never wanted cold cuts with my salad. Ever. Never ever in the name of pregnancy.
Gross.
I used to love cold cuts.
Then a mobster knocked me up.
The universe was clearly punishing me.
With the towel wrapped around me, I left the bathroom and crossed the apartment into the living room where we’d left our bags. Finnegan and Liam were on one of the couches, and it looked like they were working on the gadgets for tonight. Two small earpieces rested on a piece of fabric on the coffee table.
“You suck, Finnegan,” I said. “I just want you to know that.”
Liam snorted a laugh.
Finnegan furrowed his brow in confusion. “I’m sure, but why? This time. I ordered the food, by the way.” Then he frowned at me. “Put some fuckin’ clothes on. You’re giving the guys a show.”
I glared at him. “Excuse you?”
Liam coughed and muttered under his breath. “Pick yer damn battles, mate.”
Finnegan narrowed his eyes at me and inhaled deeply. “What I meant to say was, you look radiant and I suck.”
I beamed at him. “Yes, you do,” I cooed.
“Let this be a lesson, guys,” Finnegan said, pacing in front of the coffee table. “We can never let Emilia go hungry. She’ll become—” He caught my hitched brow and smiled. “You’re always perfect, of course.”
Uh-huh.
But he had a point. My mood stabilized once I’d eaten, and I felt much better. The nerves had settled too.
“I stand by what I said about the champagne, though,” I said. “It’s unreasonable for Liam to take on another risk by pouring my champagne somewhere when it’s totally fine for me to have one glass.”
It’d been the topic of discussion while we ate. Liam was on my side. We’d shown Finnegan countless articles online, but he thought he knew better than fucking Harvard. A glass or two a week was fine—period. He was being paranoid.
My job tonight was to cause a scene. I had to drink, but I could be smart about it. I could spill some, Liam could take the glass away from me before I reached for another, and so on.
“She’d only drink and pop a couple pills when she suspects Gio’s watching,” Eric reasoned.
Good, he was on my side too.
Finnegan wasn’t being my boss at the moment. He was a worried father-to-be.
He stood in the middle of the living room and pinched his bottom lip, thinking, and I had stuff to do. Our clothes had arrived, as had my jewelry. Eric was going to work on the latter. My earpiece looked like a small stud and would be attached like a second earring.
“One glass,” Finnegan said, “but I have a condition.”
“Go on.” I grabbed my bag and the box with my dress, and I waited.
“You eat something fatty before the event,” he told me. “Pizza or—”
I pretended to gag.
He sighed. “Emilia. It’ll absorb the alcohol.”
“Urgh. Fine. The things I do for you, Whistler.”
He grinned and kissed my temple. “Yeah, thank you for having a couple slices of pizza for me.”
I mock-scowled up at him before I disappeared into the bedroom.
The little girl in me who’d never been allowed to feel like a princess growing up was already in love with my dress. Then there was another part of me, a gleeful little bitch Finnegan had woken from its slumber, who sang “Ding-dong, the bastard’s gone” in my head.
What would Father O’Malley think if he knew I was genuinely happy—like, legit happy and joyful—about the fact that my dad was no longer alive? No matter, because my husband supported me. He was as fucked up as I was, evidently. Or rather, I was as fucked up as him.
Since there was no bed, I moved aside Eric’s two laptops and fanned out my dress across the desk. It was…flashy. Elegant and gorgeous, but the blue color was so bold, it made me confident about pulling off tonight’s stint. Boy, I was really going to stand out. The shiny satin would hug my body and push my boobs together. It was a strapless, knee-length number that came with a matching clutch. Swarovski crystals grazed the layered top piece like glistening snow, and the pair of heels included had the same crystals all over.
I was glad I’d listened to Finnegan and ordered a coat too, because it wouldn’t look very good to show up wearing this underneath the sporty-looking parka I’d bought in London for my Hyde Park walks.
As I stripped off my top and yoga pants, my phone went off. I dug it out from my bag and saw Luna’s temporary number.
“Hi, girl.” I trapped the phone between my cheek and shoulder and stepped into the dress.
“Hi, it’s me!” Oh, it was Autumn.
“Hey, sweetie.” I grinned and grunted as I tugged the dress up past my breasts. “Are you having a fun sleepover with Luna?” The two—and Kellan—were going to bake cookies and watch movies in Finnegan’s and my place.
“Yeah, we’re making rainbow cookies that you can see through!” she exclaimed. “We melted hard candy in lots of colors, and it’s like glass in the cookies. They’re so pretty, but Kellan only wanted green and yellow, and he burned his finger.” She giggled at the end.
I chuckled. “That sounds fun. I hope you’re taking pictures so I can see the cookies later.”
“We will,” she promised. “I’m saving some for you and Finnegan and Uncle Eric with all the colors.”
“That’s so sweet of you,” I said. “I’ll make sure to tell them so they have something to look forward to.”
“Okay,” she replied happily. “I miss you, Emilia. When are you coming home?”
God, she made my heart melt. “We’ll see each other in a couple of days,” I answered. “I miss you too. We all do.”
“Okay, good. We’re gonna watch a movie now,” she announced, suddenly in a hurry. “Kellan, don’t forget the butter! I’m coming. Emilia, the popcorn is done. Gotta go, love you!”
I laughed through a sappy sigh. “Love you too, sweetie. Have all the fun.” We ended the call, and I found myself standing there for a while, just thinking about my new family. “You’re in for a ride, kiddo.” I patted my stomach lightly.
“No updates on the guest list,” Eric said, tapping away on one of his laptops. “Gio’s plus-one is still unnamed.”
“Do we have any guesses on who he might bring?” I asked.
I stood still as Finnegan attached the earring with my communication device. Hair, done. Makeup, flawless. Only things missing were my shoes. I wasn’t planning on walking in those death traps until I had to.
“Maybe Bianchi Senior.” Finnegan took a step back to appraise his work, and I held up my pocket mirror. Most would just see diamonds and sapphires. The little device was nestled underneath a small cluster of sparkling gems that matched my dress.
Liam entered the bedroom while he was adjus
ting the cuff links on his tux. “I spoke to Seán. Chicago’s gone quiet, and tension’s risin’ in Philly. I reckon Gio’s sending all his rats to find Finn.”
Alessandro’s call had worked. He’d told Gio about spotting Finnegan in Philly.
“I’m a wanted man.” Finnegan winked at me.
I snorted in amusement and clasped my bracelet around my wrist.
“All right,” Eric said and spun around his chair to face us. Then he stood up and held out the little toy car he’d worked on. “The pièce de résistance. All you have to focus on is not rolling the wheels. The adhesives are facing inward right now, and when you—” He turned to Liam. “When you attach it to the car, roll it less than an inch—until the tires stick to the surface—and do your best to place it on the inside of the fender above the tire.”
I accepted the car and inspected it in utter fascination. It was perhaps two or three inches smaller than the length of my open hand. Eric was a freaking genius. It looked exactly like the concept car Gio was displaying at the event. Mercury metal, sleek, tinted glass—hell, even the tires looked real. They were made of actual rubber. The only two things that stood out were the insanely small camera inserted inside the car and a suction cup on the underside.
“What’s this plate?” I asked. The suction cup was attached to it.
“It’s a weight,” Eric answered. “It’ll ensure that the car lands wheels down once the glue dissolves. The suction cup is insurance in case the glue dissolves too quickly. Now, here’s the thing.” He faced Finnegan and Liam. “Once the car drops—when the Infiniti is back in Barcelona—it only has the capacity to move maybe a hundred feet. The car’s too small for anything elaborate.” As he spoke, I squinted at the underside of the car and noticed little wires along the back wheels. And there was the tiniest battery glued to the middle. Holy crap, I hadn’t even noticed at first. Now I spotted even more. One of the wires was nestled into the crease between the two doors and disappeared inside. “The camera’s good, though,” Eric went on. “Its arm will extend four inches outside the car when activated.”
