by Renee Rose
“Nico.”
“I got a call from my informant at the FBI.”
I didn’t think it was possible for me to go colder, but I do.
“What is it?”
“They picked up your girl yesterday and brought her in. She stayed about three hours and then they let her go. That’s all I know.”
I want to roar with the pain piercing my chest. Did she betray me? All those questions about what I’d do in different scenarios. Was it because she was already working with the feds? Or because she knew she would?
I force breath through my nostrils.
“She’s fucking MIA, Nico,” I tell him, my entire being cracking in half. “She’s MIA and she’s pregnant with my child.”
Nico curses in Italian.
I slam my forehead against the plaster wall and crack it.
I loved that girl.
I still do.
And she’s pregnant.
“Well, if she’s missing that means she didn’t roll over,” Nico says, thinking faster than I am. “If she rolled, she’d be by your side wearing a fucking wire. She wouldn’t disappear and raise flags. She probably got scared between the pregnancy and pressure from the feds and she ran.”
Away from me? Why?
She’s still scared of me.
This is all my fucking fault. I couldn’t show her enough of myself for her to feel safe. To know I’d never hurt her in a million years.
I keep sucking in my breath, processing Nico’s words. They make sense. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“So you gotta figure out where she would go. What can I do to help?”
Right. I gotta figure this shit out. My shoulders crack as I square them. I will fucking find her. I will find her and let her know she doesn’t have to run.
“Find out what happened while she was with the feds, if you can.”
“Yeah, already on it, but my informant didn’t have clearance. He’s going to try, though.”
“Well, let me know if you find anything. I’m going to go shake down—I mean, have a conversation—with her brother. If anyone knows where she would be, it would be him.”
“Yeah. Go find her. Everything’s gonna be all right.”
I know if Nico is offering me comfort, my cracks are showing. And I don’t give a shit.
“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Likewise.”
Chapter 14
Caitlin
I made a huge mistake coming here. Like colossal.
For one thing, it looks like someone found the hidden key and made themselves at home sometime in the last two years. That’s how long it’s been since I’ve been here.
It’s suddenly very clear to me I was stupid to keep this place. It was the only thing Trevor and I inherited from our dad when he died. After they declared him dead, the judge ordered for the land to be sold to pay for our care, but it didn’t sell right away.
And that was when I got serious about hacking. It was a skill I’d already been honing. So I just electronically removed the cabin sale from the government auction and kept it. I put the water, gas and electric on the government's tab. I don’t feel bad since we don’t use much.
Still, I’ve hung onto it as the one thing we have to our names. This place of our own we could come to if we ever needed to hide out or get away.
Right now, though, I’m wishing we’d sold it and taken the money.
The place is a dump. It’s falling apart. Maybe I’m just creeped out by the fact that someone else has been here. I can tell by the cigarette butts and empty beer bottles. The pair of men’s jeans draped across the unmade bed.
I couldn’t sleep at all last night worrying that whoever it was might be coming back, even though there are no signs that they were here recently.
But the real problem is that I was in such a state of trauma last night, I didn’t even bring any food. My hunger quickly morphed into queasiness and I’ve been throwing up water all morning.
Add to that the very enormous problem that my phone signal’s not working, which means no hotspot or WiFi. No internet.
So now I’m literally stranded here.
In a cabin, in the snow, miles from civilization.
With no food.
If I thought being knocked up by a mobster and hauled in by the feds was bad, I had no idea.
I may not make it out of here alive.
Paolo
From Caitlin’s old apartment, it’s a short trip to Trevor West’s dormitory. I wait outside until he comes out, and then I join him on the sidewalk, matching his pace.
He takes one sidelong look at me and lurches away.
“Don’t run,” I command, because I don’t want to grab him. Assaulting Caitlin’s brother probably isn’t going to help things.
He freezes, but only because he thinks I’m holding a piece on him. I know, because his eyes instantly dart to my hands. When he sees they’re free, he starts to turn again.
“I said, hold up,” I growl.
He hesitates.
“You know who I am?” I don’t have any idea how much Caitlin’s told him. If he even knows about us.
“I have a guess,” he says, wary as hell.
“I’m the guy who’s in love with your sister,” I say.
That stops him. No, he definitely didn’t expect those words. His eyes snap to mine. They are the same shade of cornflower blue as hers. His dark hair hangs over them like shutters. He’s a good-looking kid in an emo kind of way.
“Listen, I need your help.”
Wariness returns to his face and he shifts his stance like he’s ready to run for it again.
“Have you heard from Caitlin? Since yesterday? She’s missing and I—”
“I don’t know where she is,” he says immediately, ducking his head and hunching his shoulders up against the wind. He starts walking away from me.
He’s lying. I always know when they’re lying and this kid’s easy to read.
Once again, I resist the urge to grab his arm and yank him back, instead matching his pace, then step in front of him to block his path. “Listen to me. She got picked up by the feds yesterday.”
That gets his attention. He definitely didn’t know. But he still doesn’t trust me, because now he seems even more determined to get away. Fear flickers over his face. I know how this must seem. If all this kid knows about me is that I’m the guy who killed his dad, he’s not gonna see me as an ally.
“I’m not going to hurt her.” I thrust my hand in my jacket pocket and produce the pregnancy test. I hold it in front of his face. “She’s carrying my child.”
He goes still, looking from the pregnancy test to me. “I never heard a word about you,” he says suspiciously.
“Well, maybe she wasn’t proud of it.” It hurts me to say it out loud. To acknowledge that the woman I love has such a big hang-up with giving herself to me. “She knows I’m not responsible for your dad’s death.”
I need to get that out of the way. If he sees me as his dad's killer, he’s never going to talk.
“Listen. I think she’s probably freaked out right now. She just found out she’s pregnant, and I’m guessing the feds put pressure on her to turn informant. They probably threatened her with renewing the charges. If she was scared and needed to figure shit out, where would she go?”
His mouth is tight as he looks over my shoulder stonily, like he’s thinking. “There’s a place,” he says finally.
“Where?”
“I’m going with you.”
Okay, sure. He doesn’t trust me. “Fine,” I say curtly. “Get in my SUV.”
Caitlin
I crank up the heat and put some hot water on to boil. There’s a ten-year-old can of instant coffee here that I know is going to make me even more miserable to drink, but I have to try it.
My head aches. My breasts are tender. I feel seasick.
And for once, I don’t appreciate being fully seated in my body experiencing it all. But I can’t
tap out or I may not survive. I need to get my wits together and make a plan.
So far all I’ve come up with is walking until I get a phone or WiFi signal. But considering there’s a freaking blizzard outside, that plan could mean a quicker death than staying inside and starving.
It’s funny how being in a life or death situation sharpens everything to a fine point. I have clarity now.
I want the baby.
The instinct to protect the tiny life inside me changed everything. I’ve been far too reckless with my life, right up to my arrival here. But no more. There’s more at stake than one crazy woman. There’s a tiny, defenseless, innocent being relying on me for survival.
And I’d give anything right now to be able to call Paolo. For one thing, I know he’d rescue me in a heartbeat. For another… well, I don’t know what he’ll say about the pregnancy, but he deserves to know. We should have a conversation.
I shouldn’t have been scared of him or what he’d do. Even if he heard about the FBI picking me up, he’d give me a chance to explain what happened. He’s going to believe I wouldn’t turn informant.
The feds sucker-punched me with the photo of him with my dad, but it doesn’t prove anything. They were looking for any way to manipulate me.
The water boils and I pour some into a mug, then add the instant coffee and stir. My stomach turns. Ugh. Maybe I won’t be able to choke this down.
Outside, I hear the sound of a car. Grabbing my coat, I dash outside. Whoever it is, I need to flag them down.
An old pickup pulls down the dirt drive with two passengers. I squint to make out the face of the driver.
No.
It can’t be.
I stumble back and fall flat on my ass onto the porch steps.
Well, at least I know one thing with total certainty: Paolo definitely didn’t kill my dad.
No, he’s living and breathing and parking a pickup truck right in front of the damn cabin.
Paolo
It takes three and a half hours driving through a blizzard to arrive at what Trevor simply calls, “the cabin”. I drove my Rover, so we can at least manage the snow, but even with four-wheel drive, I slip and slide in places.
Every minute that passes, the gnawing dread in my gut grows larger. What if she’s not here? Then we just wasted the entire day driving out here to find her. Also—what if she is? I hate that she ran so far away. Is she really that afraid of me? How did she get here? I know she doesn’t know how to drive.
And I can’t even face my ultimate fear—that I won’t have the words to make her see I’m on her side. That she’ll choose to stay gone.
I want to say I won’t accept that. But it’s that character trait of mine that made her run. I can’t bulldoze myself into someone’s life. Well, I’ve obviously done exactly that, but I have to stop. I can’t make her want me. And bottom line, if I truly care about her, I have to respect her wishes if she really wants to be free of me.
Fanculo.
There are fresh tire tracks in the snow on the unpaved road Trevor directs me to. I hope to fuck they belong to the car that brought her here, although a million questions rage over who drove it and why they’re fresh. She’s been missing since last night, so if she got here yesterday, they’d be snowed over by now.
Fuck, I’m definitely overthinking.
“It’s right here,” Trevor says, pointing to a dilapidated old cabin—barely worthy of the name. A rusty pickup sits in front of the house.
“Who owns the truck?” I demand. If I were a dog, my hackles would be raised and I’d already be growling protectively.
“I don’t know.” Trevor ducks his head to peer through the large window in the front.
I park and turn off the vehicle.
But then I think he recognizes the person because Trevor lunges quickly and grabs for the gun I keep under my seat. Smart kid. He must've noticed it earlier. My reflexes kick in before I even process what’s happening. I smash his wrist against the dash. The gun drops into my lap.
“Porca puttana!” I tuck the weapon in my waistband in the back. “You’re lucky I didn’t break your fucking wrist.” We both get out of the SUV. “You’re also lucky I’m in love your sister or I would fuck you up for that. Who’s in there?”
He looks at me sharply, like he’s surprised I figured out that he knows.
He swallows.
“Tell me.”
“It looks like... someone who’s supposed to be dead.”
Minchia.
Just what we need right now—a fucking family reunion. I have to say, though, I’m not surprised. I had a feeling the little fucker was still alive.
I palm the gun and try the front door. It’s open, which surprises me. Lake West and a skanky woman are on their feet, jackets still on like they just arrived. Caitlin stands opposite them. When I see Caitlin’s pale face and dead eyes, I forget everything but getting my arms around her.
Lake recognized me and his eyes fly wide with terror. Because yeah. He thinks I want him dead. He draws a weapon at the same time I do.
Fuck.
I should lower my weapon. This is Caitlin’s father. I don't trust him not to shoot me though. Not until I explain I'm not after him, I'm here for Caitlin.
“Hold up, both of you,” Trevor commands.
"Who the fuck are you?" Lake snaps.
"Of course you wouldn't recognize your own son," Trevor mutters.
I need to take fucking charge of this situation. “Listen, West. I didn’t come here to kill you,” I say evenly. “I came for Caitlin. And the baby of mine she’s carrying.” I drop that bomb to convey to West the nature of our relationship, in case he doesn’t know.
Surprise definitely registers on Lake’s face. I can’t focus on Caitlin, but I sense her surprise too.
“You know?” she asks.
“Yeah, I know. Is that why you left, doll?” I shift my focus to her face for a fraction of a second.
A mistake.
Lake lunges for her and puts her in a headlock, holding the gun to her head.
I want to howl in rage. How stupid was I to let him know what matters to me? To assume he would care about his daughter and unborn grandchild as much as I do? Or be smart enough to reason that I'm not a threat.
I hold my gun steady. I could shoot him. I have a clear shot and I’m confident in my aim. But I can’t risk Caitlin’s life. Plus, he’s still her dad, even if he’s the lowest of the low.
I release my finger from the trigger and turn the gun to the side, moving slowly. “Okay, West. I’m putting the gun down.” I set it on the coffee table. “Now put yours down. You’re scaring your daughter.” I purposely use those words, trying to appeal to his fatherly instincts, although he clearly has none.
He doesn’t lower the gun, but he does shift to point it at me. I see it all in slow motion.
His finger squeezes the trigger. Caitlin grabs his wrist. I lunge to the side.
The bullet goes through the window.
In a second, I’m on him, knocking the gun out of his hand and slamming my fist into his face. He goes down and I follow, pounding with both my fists. This man held a gun to my girl’s head. He left her to that monster of a foster father at age fourteen.
He’s gonna pay.
Caitlin
I’m so far out of my body, I’m on Mars. I see the scene unfolding from far, far away. Trevor still standing there with a gun in his shaking hand.
My dad on his back getting the shit beat out of him by Paolo.
His bitch of a girlfriend shrinking in the corner with terror in her eyes.
And I feel nothing.
A better person would stop Paolo. Or at least a living one. But I’m not better and I’m definitely not present.
And if I did feel anything, I’m pretty sure it would be satisfaction that my dad is getting his due.
All this time, he’s been alive.
What are you doing here, Caitie? was all he had to say to me when he got out of his pi
ckup. Like I don’t belong here. Like he resented me being here. No explanation or apology for ditching out on his two kids when they were the ripe old age of eight and fourteen. For leaving us to become wards of the state. To rot in foster care while he was off living large.
What are you doing here? I shot back and he had the audacity to say, this place belongs to me.
The thud of bone cracking bone trickles into my awareness. Blood splatters on the floor. It’s amazing how many punches a guy can take and still be conscious. Still be breathing.
I wonder if Paolo will kill him.
And it’s only the memory of not wanting Paolo to kill for me when he offered to take care of my foster father that makes me reach out and touch his arm.
I expect him to shake me off. Or to not even notice me because he’s in warrior zone, but the moment I touch him, he straightens, turns and pulls me into his arms.
I want to feel it. I can tell it would be nice to be held by Paolo right now. That I’ve been in need of his strength and protection. He rubs my back. I wish I could feel it.
But I’m way too out of my body to feel the warmth of his touch.
“What do you want me to do with him,” I hear him ask from far away.
I make my lips move. “Let’s go.”
“No, he goes.” Paolo turns and kicks my dad in the ribs. “This cabin is yours. He’s dead. He has no rights to it.” He kicks him again, then reaches down and hauls him up with his fists in his clothing.
“You’d better stay dead this time, West. Because the bratva will be looking for you for that truck full of electronics you stole. And if I ever see you again?” He says something menacing in Italian. “I’ll fucking skin you alive, you greedy little weasel. You abandoned your kids for a couple hundred grand?” He cocks his fist back and delivers another vicious blow, then shoves him in the direction of his girlfriend.
“Get him out of here,” he tells the girlfriend. “And don’t fucking come back.”
