by Dee, Cara
The question was on the tip of my tongue. What had he done?
If only I could afford to ask. Instead, I had to leave that to Finnegan for later—if Gio didn’t divulge the information freely.
“Lorenzo is nine years old. He lives with his mother, where he is safe,” he finished. “I ask again. How did Finn know about Barcelona?”
I couldn’t be remotely honest. If Gio knew we’d had complete access to his study in Cerveteri, he’d also learn just how much information Finnegan possessed. I had to go with something plausible, even if it meant throwing myself under the bus a bit. Okay, I would throw Liam under the bus, but considering I’d been there in Paris, it would give Gio reason to doubt my intentions. My “loyalty.”
It was time to act my ass off.
“I’d rather not think about it, to be frank,” I said and slumped back in my seat. “Finnegan’s always busy. He doesn’t mind throwing a credit card my way, because then he doesn’t have to deal with me. He treats me like I’m some object.” I smashed my lips together as if I was trying to hide my bitterness, and then I waved a hand. “Anyway. When Liam asked me to go with him to Paris, I felt special. I thought, okay, someone gives a crap, at least. Someone wants to spend time with me. But I should’ve known better.”
Gio narrowed his eyes at me.
“He knew you were likely to approach me at the auto show,” I said. “So, there I was, thinking he’d been nice—he’d brought me to such a nice event—and then afterward, when we left, I learned I’d only been a distraction so he and someone else—Conn, I think—could plant a tracker on your flashy car.” I shrugged. “When your car was transported back to storage or whatever, they learned about the warehouse in the harbor.”
Gio lowered his stare and gripped his fork tighter. Not a single muscle in his face moved, but I could see the storm brewing in his eyes.
I hoped I’d been convincing enough for him to believe I hadn’t had anything to do with Paris.
I’d be toast.
I nudged Autumn gently, reminding her to eat. She got lost in her games easily.
She smiled sheepishly and stuck a forkful of chicken into her mouth.
“Excuse me.” Gio stood up and tossed his napkin on his plate. “I’ll be in my office.”
Someone had lost his appetite.
“Emilia. Emilia, wake up. Autumn, honey, you too.”
I mumbled groggily, not sure what, maybe a protest, because what the fuck. Someone shook me, and I pulled away automatically. “What…” I blinked in the darkness and saw a form next to the bed. Elena. I warred against the cobwebs and pushed myself up a bit. “What time is it?”
“Almost four. We’re leaving,” she replied in an urgent whisper. “You have five minutes to pack.”
Jesus Christ.
I scrubbed at my face and willed my brain to catch up already. “Is…is something wrong?”
“You could say that. That monster you married blew up all our other estates here in Italy.”
“Oh God.” Exhilaration tore through me, and I flew out of the bed. “Whoa.” I had to steady myself. Get a grip! I couldn’t show my excitement.
“We’re leaving for Germany in five minutes,” she said and walked toward the door. “Get ready quick.”
Holy shit. That monster of mine was my hero. I couldn’t believe it. After rounding the bed, I woke up Autumn and hurried to scramble my stuff together. Given how drowsy Autumn was, I decided against telling her that Finnegan was getting closer. My God, I hoped he’d gotten my messages about Germany.
Using superglue and the expensive jewelry Gio had given me, I was almost done with my homemade brass knuckles. Just, remove brass and switch it out for sharp crystals, studs, and diamonds. It fit like a fingerless glove, literally, and I wasn’t leaving without it.
While Autumn stumbled to the bathroom, I had just enough time to fill an overnight bag with clothes, my self-defense creation, some of Autumn’s gadgets, and her headphones. All while my mind spun at what lay ahead of us.
Less than five hours later, we were coming in for landing at a small regional airport in northern Germany.
I was tired, sore, uncomfortable, hopeful, nervous, and jumpy.
Twenty of Gio’s closest men were with us, and together we filled his private plane to the last seat.
Many of the guys had found one way or another to stare at me during the flight. Either by getting up and walking around, heading to the bathroom, coming to talk to Gio, or just by turning in their seat. They all knew I was Finnegan O’Shea’s wife, and I could tell they didn’t like me very much.
It was mutual.
I was seated with Autumn, Elena, and Antonio across from me, and I had Gio and Luca and two others on the other side of the aisle. And it’d become abundantly clear that Gio was gathering his troops to come up with a final plan to wipe out the Sons of Munster.
I played my part.
“You’re sure he won’t find us here?” I asked hesitantly.
My tone seemed to calm him down some. He wasn’t that stupid. He still doubted me, as anyone would, but I could tell the reassurances I gave him mattered.
“He’s not coming near you, ragazza,” Gio promised. “The estate is not in my name. I signed it over to the mother of my sons years ago, and no one outside of this family knows of her.”
The last part was true, I could give him that, but the Sons definitely knew about the estate.
Thank fuck.
The plane touched down smoothly and soon stopped outside a hangar. I assumed there was a reason we weren’t going through the small terminal I’d spotted when we flew over.
So much for getting stuck in passport control.
Luca handed over a duffel bag to someone who appeared to work at the airport.
Was the whole fucking world corrupt?
Germany was significantly colder than Italy, even in the summer, and I kept Autumn close to me as we were escorted to a lineup of SUVs with tinted windows.
The sun disappeared behind a cover of gray clouds, and the wind picked up.
“It’s cold.” Autumn shivered and jumped inside a car.
I followed. “We’ll order you better clothes.”
What I wanted to say was, we should be out of here soon.
Mobsters knew how to live it up.
Gio’s estate outside the town of Lubeck screamed of wealth. As we turned onto the road that led to the residence, all I saw was this huge white mansion surrounded by green. It reminded me a little of the White House, actually. Only, it was wider, had a less grand façade, and was two stories tall. But there was a part in the middle, like half a tower, that had a balcony. So three stories there, I assumed.
A big forest loomed in the background, behind the white wall enclosing the estate.
A suffocating sensation washed over me as we passed through the gates.
I was so sick of being restricted and hidden away.
I missed my freedom. I missed Finnegan’s cozy condo back in Philly.
I missed Finnegan more than I could describe.
Inside the gates, there wasn’t much to look at. Green grass and a few trees. There was a fountain in the middle of the lawn; that was about it.
I saw a smaller house to the side, and Elena said it would be where the guards stayed. Only Luca, Antonio, and four other associates would sleep in the main house.
It hit me at once that I wasn’t confident Finnegan could pull this off. The wall was at least ten feet high, and over a dozen of Gio’s men were sheer strength. They were security and looked the type.
“You girls must be hungry,” Elena said. “I’ll have the staff make breakfast for you.”
“Staff?” I frowned at her. Someone was already here?
She smiled lightly and nodded. “Aside from Riccardo and Davide who, ah, how do you say, hold down the fort? Moritz and his wife, Frida, take care of the house. Moritz is an amazing chef,” she gushed. “And they speak English too. Moritz more than Frida, but she gets by.”
She was happy to be here, that much was clear. I’d noticed relief in Gio’s expression once we landed, too. Maybe it wasn’t solely related to escaping Italy. “Then you can get settled in,” Elena continued. “You can pick a room on the second floor first, if you like? The entire house is at your disposal, except for the garage below.” She tried to dismiss it with a smile and an eye roll. “You know men. They always want their private space where we are not allowed.”
Uh-huh. Sure.
I had no interest in seeing the garage. We already knew it was where Gio stored his secret collection of concept cars that he’d stolen.
What I wanted to find out was whether or not there might be a way to contact Finnegan.
34
Emilia O’Shea
I picked a guest room on the second floor that overlooked the back of the house. All the rooms shared one long balcony, each room’s space sectioned off by potted plants. Below us was a barbecue area, a big lawn, and two hot tubs.
The forest smelled of freedom. What I wouldn’t give to be able to take Autumn and just go.
This mansion was much more lavish than the villa in Naples, and yet this felt like a prison. Or a dead museum that you couldn’t leave. The rooms were big, with high ceilings and luxurious four-poster beds, but the walls were stripped bare, the floors were cold, and there was barely any furniture.
Autumn was dead on her feet, not to mention distraught and unsettled, so I didn’t have to convince her to rest with me. She crawled under the covers with me once I’d untied the billowy curtains around the bed, and she held on to me as if she were afraid I’d disappear.
“Are you sure Uncle Eric and Finn can find us here?”
I nodded and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sure. Soon, I promise.”
I had to believe that.
“Emilia?” she asked in a small voice.
“Yeah?”
“Why can’t you be my mom?”
A sudden onslaught of emotion slammed into me, and I screwed my eyes shut as I hugged her to me. It felt like my heart stopped and shattered, while simultaneously threatening to pound its way out of my chest.
My mind flooded with memories telling me I should’ve seen this coming. In a way, I sort of had. The clues had been there in the wistfulness when she’d talked of wanting siblings and in her soft-spoken stream of consciousness some nights, where unfinished sentences that should have ended with something along the lines of “but I never did, since my mom and dad are dead” were louder than words. Whether it was take-your-daughter-to-work or celebrating Mother’s Day.
In Dublin, Eric admitted to me that she’d written a wish list to Santa, despite not believing in him anymore, saying she wanted a mom and a dad last Christmas.
He’d looked so heartbroken. She was everything to him, and he knew she loved him beyond words. He also knew she wasn’t looking to replace him. She just…she wanted a mom and a dad.
Even so, with the hints and clues in mind, to hear those words come out of her mouth—to hear the question directed at me…? It was life-changing and overwhelming.
“Look at me, sweetheart.” I swallowed my emotions and combed back her hair with my fingers.
The vulnerability in her eyes nearly did me in. Have mercy on a pregnant woman, for crying out loud.
“When Finnegan and I heard our boy’s heartbeat the first time, our lives changed. Suddenly, this tiny little thing we’d never met became our world.” I wiped the pad of my thumb under her eyes and smiled gently. “You’re my world too, Autumn. Finnegan and I are so lucky to be able to call you family—and you are.” I poked her nose, coaxing a timid smile from her. “We will have to talk to Uncle Eric when we get out of here, okay? I’m proud of you for not keeping this to yourself—and so, so honored that you love me almost as much as I love you.”
She sniffled and laughed a little. “Not almost. Equally.”
I shook my head. “Impossible. And you know what? Whatever happens, you will always have a home with Finnegan and me. In fact, we kinda have the best opportunity to get what we want after this.”
That had her attention. “What do you mean?”
“Well.” I supported myself on my elbow and rested my head in my hand. “I think they’re worried about us, and they’re gonna be so happy when we’re all together again. And that’s when we demand that Uncle Eric has to live next to us. So we can always be close.”
Her eyes lit up, and the sight made my heart soar. “You think they will agree?”
“Oh, yeah. Totally. How can they say no to us?”
She grinned. “I like being sneaky.”
I laughed softly. “Me too.”
“Emilia?”
“Hmm…?” I yawned and stretched out a bit. My back wasn’t hurting, and the kicker in my stomach wasn’t practicing to be a soccer player. I had to savor it.
“There it is again.”
“Where’s what?” I asked drowsily.
Autumn nudged my shoulder. “There’s something on the balcony, Emilia. It just dropped.”
I grunted and forced myself up. Then I yawned again and squinted at…okay, she wasn’t in the bed anymore.
“Come look!” she urged.
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Christ, I couldn’t stop yawning. Pushing aside the curtain, I slid off the bed, only to wince at the cold surface of the stone floor. Then I padded over to the balcony doors and slipped a hand down over Autumn’s hair. “What is it?”
She pointed to the tiled ground of the outdoor area.
It was something round and neon green.
“It went up before,” she said. “There’s a string, see? Someone pulled on it before.”
I opened the balcony doors and inched closer. Goodness. It was a Post-it note wrapped around something, and there was a fishing line tied around it. Automatically, I straightened and looked up toward the roof.
I couldn’t see anything.
Could it be…?
My heart skipped a beat as I picked up the little ball. Or rock, I guess. After ushering Autumn back inside, I removed the line and smoothed out the note in my hand.
Don’t leave your room after midnight. Make sure the balcony is open for Sullivan. The cavalry has arrived, princess. See you soon. Love, Whistler.
Tears sprung to my eyes, and I didn’t know where I got the strength from, but soon I was picking up Autumn and spinning her around.
She squealed.
“We’re going home, sweetheart,” I whispered in her ear. “Finnegan and Uncle Eric are here.”
On our way to the dining room on the other side of the estate that evening, I was on pins and needles. Autumn and I had wandered around the place earlier, pretending to be curious and wanting to “take the tour.” When in reality, I’d just wanted to map out everything and see if anything could be used as a weapon.
The only thing I’d managed to take back to our room was a three-pound weight from the dumbbell rack in the gym on the first floor.
It was better than nothing, though, and I had every intention of doing my part however I could. I’d follow Finnegan’s orders and stay in my room, and I was gonna keep Autumn safe there from anyone who might wanna enter once hell broke loose.
I had so many questions. Most of all, I wondered how long the guys had been here. Less than twenty-four hours ago, the Sons had managed to blow up four different locations in Italy, and if there was one thing I’d discovered while traveling in Europe with these guys… They rarely fucking flew.
Hopefully, they’d made an exception. One crew was clearly here already, and it was safe to say some of them were on the property. Hiding. Waiting. Poor Sullivan. He had to be stuck on the roof or something.
Autumn and I entered the dining room that felt more like a great hall from some King Arthur movie. I couldn’t believe how anyone liked it here. I felt entirely out of place. The whole estate was a shrine to something barren and unforgiving. White walls everywhere, with small paintings placed side by side, though with plenty
of space in between—paintings of battles, famine, and rough seas.
The dining table seated sixteen, though only six—no, seven—seats were occupied for dinner.
Gio sat at the head.
Elena wasn’t here yet.
“There you are.” Gio gestured toward the seats next to Luca. Our food had already been served. “Come eat. We have much to discuss.”
Oh, did we?
Autumn scrunched her nose at the food, though I suspected it was only because of the mushrooms. She didn’t like those. I told her to push them aside and eat the rest. She liked meat, potatoes, peas, and sauce, at least.
I ignored all the eyes on me.
And it hit me that most of these guys, if not all, would be dead soon.
How sick was I for finding relief in that?
“Do you have a phone number for Finnegan?” Gio asked.
I nearly dropped my fork. “Um, why? I mean, no. I don’t have it memorized.”
“How would you contact him if I were to ask you to?”
Where was he going with this?
“I’d probably find the number to his office in the US,” I replied, confused and wary. In the eleventh hour, mistakes were out of the question. “Sooner or later, I’d find someone who had the right number.” I guessed Thomas would have it, not that I would be so forthcoming.
Elena was right about one thing. That old German dude knew how to cook. The meat melted in my mouth, and the rest was equally perfect.
“Is that something you want?” I asked Gio. “For me to contact Finnegan, I mean?”
He nodded once and took a sip of his wine. “You’ll do it tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
If all went according to plan, everything would be over by then.
I let Gio’s tone of voice sink in too. He wasn’t messing around. He wouldn’t humor me or let his men see me set the pace. He wouldn’t be bossed around by a woman.
