by Nikki Chase
What if I go home, and they take Jack away from me, then kill me in front of my family? That may sound crazy to a normal person, but my family is neck deep in blood and violence. So is Matteo’s family.
I study Matteo’s gorgeous features. His dark eyes, full of secrets. The rough hair along his strong jawline. He’s capable of violence even if I’ve never seen that with my own eyes. It’s easy to tell.
“Well?” Matteo asks. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s on your mind? What’s making you reluctant to go home?”
Images of Jack being raised by Matteo and his family plague my mind. Jack’s young enough to forget everything he knows about me.
What if Matteo marries another woman for Jack to call “Mommy?” What if he raises Jack to hate my family—or worse, to kill my family?
Still, no matter how bad of a man Matteo is, he won’t hurt his own son.
Maybe Jack will be better off with the Guerrieros. They have money and resources. Jack will eat like a king, get educated by the best minds in the world, and literally have power over people’s lives.
With me, he’d live in hiding, possibly moving from town to town to avoid detection from dangerous, violent men. What kind of a life is that?
I’m using Jack as an excuse not to do what’s right by him. Does that make me a bad mom?
Matteo
I watch as Grace swirls her fork on her plate, biting her lip like she often does when she’s thinking. “What’s on your mind? What’s making you reluctant to go home?”
She stares at her stew and remains silent for a few tense seconds. “I’m worried about Jack,” she says finally.
“Why?”
Grace glances up to meet my gaze but quickly looks away again. Is she hiding something from me? “I think he needs more time to adjust to having you around.”
So far, Jack seems to be doing well. I think he even likes me although he did spray some piss on my shirt this morning. I’m trying not to take that too personally.
“Are you sure you’re talking about Jack and not yourself?” I ask as gently as I can, ignoring the surge of impatience rising in my chest.
Grace’s disappearance gave the war new life, and now Franco is lying in a hospital bed, fighting against death. I don’t have time to play around. Actual human lives are hanging in the balance here, but Grace doesn’t seem to understand that.
Something flickers in her eyes, but it’s gone almost as soon as I notice it.
Is she surprised that I guessed correctly? Is she afraid of me? I wouldn’t blame her if she is—I wouldn’t hurt Grace or Jack, but I’m not a good man.
Or am I looking at this wrong? Is there a particular reason why she wants to hang on to her life here? So far, it doesn’t seem like Grace has any reason to stay even if Lily appears to be a good friend. Is there a man here she’s seeing? The mere thought of it makes me want to punch something.
“Okay. You’re right,” Grace says on a sigh. Is she about to admit her attachment to another man? I don’t know how I’d react to something like that. “I’m nervous about going home.”
“Everyone will be happy to see you. Your family will be overjoyed to see you’re still alive, and my family will be too distracted by how cute Jack is to even remember about the feud.”
“Everything is happening so fast, Matteo.” Grace lifts her gaze and gives me a peek into her anxious soul. “Last week, I thought I was going to live as Ashley for the rest of my life. My biggest concern was getting my business to make money so I could send Jack to college.
“Since you found me, everything I know about my options has changed. Now, going home doesn’t seem like a suicide mission. In fact—” her cheeks brighten with genuine embarrassment “—I think I’d like to be with you.”
I reach across the breakfast bar and take her hand, stroking her smooth skin with my fingers. It would be my honor to go through life holding this hand in mine. “Then be with me, Grace. I want to spend my days with you—and nights too.”
A smile. A playful glimmer in her eyes. A flash of fearful hope across her features. “Do you have any idea just how much my life has changed, Matteo? Now, I don’t have to worry about hiding my real identity anymore—or money.
“But I have to deal with the uncertainty of going home. You tell me everyone will be happy to see me. But I’m not so sure. Some people will think I’ve been selfish. Some people will think I’m responsible for the blood that has been spilled in this war since my disappearance.”
I let her words sink in. She’s right, of course. Even though I know her side of the story now, I understand at least a small part of me used to think she was immature for leaving the way she did. Leveling my gaze at her, I say, “Or they’ll be relieved to know that no more blood will be sacrificed. Maybe they’ll even be grateful.”
Grace stares at me like the answers to all her questions about the future are written on my face, like I’m a crystal ball. Her full lips part. “I don’t know.”
“Come home with me, Grace,” I plead.
The longer we delay this, the more risks we face. Of course, she doesn’t know this. She doesn’t know my dad’s getting impatient.
“I am worried about Jack too, by the way,” she adds. “He doesn’t even know who you really are yet. I thought that was our next step.”
The way she says “our next step” makes my heart swell. She’s already talking about us like we’re a unit, like we’re a team. Things are moving in the right direction, but I’m worried it’s not happening quickly enough.
Last night, after I put Jack to bed, I realized I’d made a mistake. When I was on the phone with my dad, I told him I’d come home “as soon as I find them.”
Them. Not her.
It was a simple slip of the tongue. I was distracted by Lily and Jack waiting at the door, worried the doorbell was going to wake up Grace from the slumber she sorely needed.
But my dad’s an attentive man when he wants to be. It’s a necessity in the business. Sometimes, it’s the little things that end up saving someone’s life—or costing someone’s life if he makes a mistake.
He hasn’t said anything, but I know he wouldn’t even if he has found out about Jack—his grandson. He prefers to take advantage of the element of surprise when he can. He strikes before his enemy is even aware of any danger.
I’ve always admired the way my dad works. But now that I’m a possible target of his attack, it’s terrifying. I don’t know when—or if—he’ll make a move.
Does he know Jack’s his grandson? Should I tell him and lose any advantage I have over him? Or should I keep quiet until Grace is ready to go home?
“Telling Jack can wait,” I say to Grace. “We can go home first and wait until we settle into a nice routine, then tell him when he’s ready. He’s three. I don’t know if he’d even understand it if we told him now.”
Grace and I share a look. Even if I don’t say anything, she knows there’s danger lurking just around the corner.
I’m not sure what’s going to happen. I don’t have all the answers. I fucked up, and that could mean we have less time to consider our options.
But I’m going to make things right if it killed me. We just need to go home first. All three of us.
Grace
What a roller coaster today has been.
I woke up to a shirtless Matteo carrying a happy Jack in his arms. I didn’t even have to cook because he took care of that too. And then he told me we need to go home now.
Taking a deep breath, I let hot water wash over me. At least this part of my day is somewhat normal. Nobody’s in the shower enclosure with me—which isn’t entirely a good thing, to be honest.
Matteo didn’t say we’d be in danger if we didn’t rush home right away. He didn’t have to. I could see it in his eyes, hear it in the tone of his voice.
My showers take five minutes these days. I can’t leave Jack alone for long even if he’s taking a nap, and even if Matteo can
pick up the slack for me.
With a towel wrapped around my head and the most presentable house clothes I can find in my wardrobe, I head to Jack’s room to check up on him. This is what I do every time I take a shower with Jack in the house.
But unlike all the other times before, Jack’s crib is empty. He’s not here.
Maybe he woke up while I was in the shower. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Matteo might’ve taken him to the kitchen to find something to eat.
I check the kitchen first, then the living room, then my own bedroom, then the bathroom, then back to Jack’s room.
He’s nowhere to be found. I stare at the crib in disbelief as though I can make him materialize out of thin air.
Don’t panic, I tell myself. It’s kind of too late for that, though. My heart rate is, like, ten times faster than normal.
Shit.
Was I wrong to trust Matteo with Jack? Did he take my son away from me? Did he change his mind about waiting for me to be ready to go home with him?
Maybe I should call 911. I run to my bedroom and seize the phone I left on the nightstand.
What do I tell them? I think my new boyfriend, who also happens to be the father of my son and a mafia prince, has kidnapped my son? They’d tell me to quit making prank calls and hang up on me.
I stare at my phone screen.
Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions. Maybe Matteo has just taken Jack outside to play. Rushing to check the backyard, I make a call to Matteo. Busy tone.
Is he on the phone with someone? Or has he blocked my number, now that he doesn’t need me anymore?
It’s possible he took Jack to the park. Yesterday, I told him we do that almost every day. Maybe Jack woke up and wore Matteo down with his pleas to go outside.
I can’t believe Matteo would just take off like that without telling me. Now that he’s here, I’m willing to take small steps toward seeing him as an equal co-parent. But taking Jack away without any warning is just wrong. He wouldn’t do that, would he?
How much do I really know about Matteo?
Damn it. It’s entirely possible that Matteo has kidnapped Jack. He could be talking to his lawyer right this moment, fighting for full custody over Jack. The legal system probably doesn’t look too kindly on moms who fake their own deaths to ensure they get custody.
Perhaps Matteo is just giving me a taste of my own medicine.
“Matteo!” I yell out as I circle the house. I continue shouting as I head toward the front, craning my neck to find him.
Where’s my baby? Everything I do is for Jack. If I lose him, I don’t know what I’d do.
Matteo
Is that Grace’s voice calling me?
She emerges from the side of the house, looking like she’s about to cry.
I rush to her side, my heart thudding in my chest. “What happened?”
“Where’s Jack?” she asks, her voice shaking.
“He’s not inside? He was sleeping when I went out to make a call.” I spoke to some people at home who got me so angry I had to shout down the phone. I didn’t want to wake Jack up from his nap.
Grace shakes her head. Her lips tremble. “Where’s Jack?” she repeats.
“I don’t know, but we’ll find him. Wait here.” I guide Grace to the steps leading up the porch and tell her to take a seat while I go back inside and check every little hidden nook of the house I can find. And still, no Jack.
Fuck. That fucking old fucker.
“Come with me.” Putting my hand around Grace’s quaking shoulders, I open the car door for her and drive.
Connecting my phone to the car’s audio system, I redial the last number I called. “Hector, it’s me again.”
“Hey, boss. I was just about to call you back, but—”
“I don’t have time for small talk,” I cut him off. “You said Tom and Patrick are here. Do you know where they’re staying?”
“Yeah. This hotel downtown. I forgot the name.”
I groan. “Find out. Find out now, and call me back. Quick. This is urgent.”
I hang up.
“Where are we going?” Grace asks.
“My dad’s men are in town..”
When Grace speaks, her voice is filled with accusation. “Your dad knows about Jack?”
“Yeah. I’m so sorry. It was my fault. I said the wrong thing when he called last night.”
“Why did you do that?” Grace raises her voice. Her fists land on my arm, but it’s my heart that hurts. Her fury echoes in my rented car. “You told me you were keeping us a secret, and yet you told him. I shouldn’t have trusted you. I should’ve run away the first chance I had.”
“I’m as surprised as you are. And I don’t like this either.” I know my words offer her no consolation, but I have to try. I want her to understand I’d never betray her trust. “I had no idea he’d move this quickly.”
“So you knew he was going to do something?” Grace’s voice grows shrill.
“I was just starting to put the pieces together,” I explain as I turn onto the highway. “I called home just now to learn that my dad has been questioning my housekeeper about my orders for her to clean the bedrooms and stock the kitchen. I guess he found out I’d been preparing the house for your arrival and tracked me down.”
“So my baby is with your dad?” Fear drips from every syllable she utters.
“Jack can’t be that far.” As Grace begins to sniffle, I keep my eyes on the road. I need to focus on getting us to the assholes who have obviously kidnapped my son.
I shouldn’t have stepped outside the house to make those calls. I should’ve stayed right in Jack’s room and kept my eyes trained on him. Better yet, I should’ve tied Grace and Jack to my own body so they’d follow me wherever I go.
But it’s too late for regrets. Sentiments won’t get Jack back to me.
I race through the streets, heading downtown, trusting Hector to come through for me. True enough, when he calls me back, he gives me the name of the hotel.
In that hotel, I’ll find Tom and Patrick. And I’ll pummel them into a pulp if I have to. I’ve got to teach people a lesson.
Nobody takes my baby away from me. Not even my own father.
My fist pounds the door. In my mind, though, I’m actually punching my dad’s men in their ugly faces.
“Who’s there?” comes a response from inside.
“Should we say room service?” Grace whispers. I’d laugh if the fury surging through my body weren’t so overwhelming.
“Open up, assholes!” Under my breath, I mutter, “Motherfuckers. I’ll get this door open with or without their cooperation.”
Grace asks, “You have a lock pick?”
The dingy, puke-green walls of the hallway vibrate along with my pounding. A woman who had been moaning like a cat in heat goes silent.
I wouldn’t be surprised if prostitutes met their johns here. This looks like the kind of establishment that takes hourly bookings.
As a general rule, my dad provides a pretty generous travel budget. There’s absolutely no reason for these guys to slum it in a place like this unless they’re blowing the money on booze or drugs. Or both. And prostitutes.
The thought of my son spending time around those degenerates makes my blood boil. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
When I hear no response, I take a step back from the door. Judging by the hinge, it’s supposed to swing away from me. Perfect.
I didn’t want to do this because it might scare Jack, but they’ve left me no choice.
Driving my left heel into the ground, I kick the door with my other heel. The cheap, hollow wood begins to splinter.
“Fuck,” comes a curse from the inside. The same voice as before. I thought there were two men sent into town?
I keep working on the door, focusing on the part close to where the lock is mounted.
“Matteo, someone’s coming,” Grace warns in an anxious tone.
Footsteps rush down the
hallway. “Hey!” Glancing to the side, I find a man wearing a stained, white wife-beater, pointing his index finger at me.
Ignoring him, I take out my aggression on the door. There’s plenty more where that came from; enough to turn my dad’s men into a bloody mess.
The door gives way with a satisfying crack, swinging open and thudding against the wall.
Tom stands right under an overhead light, his bald head reflecting the yellow light. He raises both hands in the air. “I was just about to open the door for you.”
I don’t care what he was about to do. Scanning the room, my stomach drops. I slam the bathroom door wide open. Jack’s not here.
“Hey! Man, you can’t do that. You’ll have to pay,” says a voice from behind me. Probably some guy who works at the hotel.
“Where is he?” I march toward Tom, who steps backward, his eyes fixed on me. Raising my voice, I ask again, “I swear I’m going to kill you if you don’t tell me. Where the fuck is he?”
“He’s not here, man.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as the back of his thigh bumps into a chair. He glances behind him, but it’s too late. I’m too close.
Grabbing him by the collar of his yellowed, button-down shirt, I slam him against the wall. Instantly, the hotel guy shuts up. There’s only Tom’s whimpers and my threats.
“I know he’s not here. I have eyes. Tell me where he is.” I don’t even bother asking Tom if they’ve taken Jack. The answer is obvious.
“The airport. At the airport,” he stammers, his eyes flickering with fear. “We were told to bring him home right away.”
Fuck. They move fast. “What flight?”
He makes a nervous sound. “Uh, um, I think, uh, I don’t know. Northeast. I think.”
I pull my fist back and stare him in the eye. He knows I won’t hesitate to hurt him. I’d be glad for the opportunity to let off some steam. “Tell me.”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t the one who bought the tickets,” he blurts out, his voice shaking.
With a loud growl, I punch him in the gut. As he doubles over in pain, I grab his hair. “Think harder, asshole.”
