by Cara Dee
That wasn’t helpful at all. Who said I wasn’t ready?
Remembering there was something buried in bubble wrap in the box, I picked it up and unfolded it carefully. Oh God. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. That bastard. He’d bought us a cake topper, a groom physically dragging the bride along by her veil. I had to cover my mouth, and my eyes welled up rapidly.
Chapter 22
Emilia Porter
When Grace pulled up in her SUV and I saw Kellan stepping out of the vehicle, I gripped my knife tighter and stalked over to the kitchen window in the main house. Helping Ian chop vegetables had given me the perfect tool to adopt a few of my own questionable methods.
“That motherless shit,” I seethed.
Grace had no doubt warned him. While Alec and Nessa jumped out of the car in a great mood, Kellan was rubbing the back of his neck and looking around himself.
Since the truth had come out, I’d learned his name wasn’t even Caldwell. It was Kellan Ford, and he was dead meat.
“I love him as if he were my own,” Grace had told me, “and I’d tan his hide as if he were my own too.”
“I think I’ll take that, hon.” Ian came up behind me and loosened my hold on the knife. “Now, go get him.”
“I can’t.” I mentally rooted my feet into place. “I wouldn’t be able to control myself, and the kids shouldn’t see that.”
Ian chuckled warmly. “Alec competes in martial arts, and Nessa’s favorite pastime is target practice.”
I needed something like that. I’d grown accustomed to running once a day, but it wasn’t enough. Maybe I could get two preteens to help me.
By now, Grace was almost at the house. Alec and Nessa were lugging their bags to Patrick’s house. The construction crew was packing up for the day, and Kellan was waiting for something. He stood by the cars and smoked a cigarette, and it sucked how small of a wardrobe change it took to make him look every bit a Son. His fake, typical government-type suit had been replaced by tailored suit pants, a dark blue dress shirt, friggin’ suspenders, and forearms covered in ink.
I hoped he didn’t want kids.
Stalking out of the house, I passed Grace first, who offered a knowing smirk and a, “Have fun, dearie.”
Too late to do anything about the fact that I was barefoot. I could inflict some damage anyway.
“Tush! Yer second husband is here!” Alec popped his head out the door of Patrick’s house.
“Not now, kid.” I narrowed my eyes at Kellan as he spotted me.
He showed his palms in caution and stubbed out his smoke. “Emilia, before you go to town on me, know that I was only doing my job.”
“And I’m here to give you the reward for being the employee of the month, you son of a bitch.” Blind rage exploded within me, and I took off in a sprint. It sent a rush of adrenaline through me.
“No need to bring my mother into this,” he replied, frowning. Piece of garbage treated this like it was a joke. “Hey, let’s talk about—okay, you’re really not slowing down.”
I flew into him a second later and went apeshit. It was my only strategy. Kellan tumbled to the ground with a painful grunt, and I toppled over him all while slapping the ever-loving crap out of him.
“How could you!” I shouted.
“I was—goddammit, Emilia—I was following orders!” He flinched and jerked, doing his best to dodge my punches, but he wasn’t fighting back.
“Yay, get him!” Nessa had evidently joined us. I didn’t see anyone but Kellan and the memories of me trusting him, me putting my faith and hope in him. He’d been one of the good guys.
“Aim for the throat, Tush!” Alec hollered.
“Whose side are you on, you feckless little brats?” Kellan growled.
“Hers!”
Heaving a breath, I planted my knee on his crotch and slammed my palm up his chin.
“Ouch, motherf—” Another growl left him, and he shoved me off of him to cup his crotch. “My fucking balls,” he groaned. “I fink I bit my tongue.”
“I fink you should say you’re sorry!” I yelled.
“Okay, that’s enough!” He put a swift ending to my thrashing and rolled on top of me. A small rock was digging into my spine, and I squirmed and shrieked like a freaking banshee. “Sweet Jesus, I’mma be deaf after this. Knock it off!” With a tight grab on my jaw, he leaned down, our chests heaving with rapid, shallow breaths, and he glared at me. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Emilia. I would do it again because it’s my job, and that’s how it is. But I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry. Now, if I let go of you, are you gonna hit me again?”
“Try me,” I snarled.
He grinned, out of breath, and a bit of blood trickled down from a cut in his lip. “Welcome to the family, dollface.” He pissed me off further by giving me a loud kiss on my forehead, then moving away fast as hell.
I managed to kick him in the shin as he stood up. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Depends who you’re asking.” He grimaced in pain and leaned down to rub his leg. “That one hurt.”
“Eat a bag of dicks.” I threw an arm over my face and swallowed dryly. My heart was still racing, yet the adrenaline was leaving me.
“Not the best insult to throw at someone who’s queer,” he chuckled.
“Just great.” I scrubbed my hands over my face and took a deep breath.
Kellan was smiling down at me and extending a hand. “Friends?”
This fucking family, I swear.
“Are you nervous about getting hitched, love? I’d be shittin’ bricks if I were you.”
Alec’s vocabulary and accent never failed to make me chuckle. Every my and you became me and ye, and love was luv.
“You’re twelve,” I pointed out. “If you were getting married, it would be a felony.”
“Aye, ’cause I’m supposed to wait until you ditch the boss for me.” He gave me a wink.
I shook my head in amusement and threw some popcorn at him.
When dinner was over up at the main house, I had been ready to retreat and be alone. Alec didn’t let me, and he insisted on keeping me company for a movie or two. We were still on the first one, and I couldn’t say I was paying attention.
My resistance had crumbled. I just wanted Finnegan here.
There were bursts of anger whenever I thought of Kellan’s “job,” but missing Finnegan put me down more.
There was no hope for me.
“Who’re you texting?” I asked. “Girlfriend?”
“Nah. Girls are weird. I’m talking to Finn.”
It didn’t help that I was reminded of him every two minutes.
My phone lay dead on the coffee table.
“What’s he doing?” I asked carefully. Was I ready to read the messages Finnegan had sent?
“Not much,” Alec said. “He’s watching telenovelas and yelling ay, dios mio and cabron to the couple having bad sex next door.”
I laughed behind my hand, only to get confused because there was no couple living next door. There was a Mrs. Cardigan, a sweet old lady who supplied Finnegan with his damn butterscotch candies.
“The tosser’s miserable, Tush.” Alec placed the phone to his ear, and it hit me that he was calling Finnegan. Shit, shit, shit. How did I look—oh, for chrissakes. He couldn’t see me. “Oi, boss. How bored are ye?” He chuckled at something, then turned it on speaker.
“…finished maybe…two boxes of Twinkies?”
I put a hand over my heart. Hearing his voice was painful.
Alec smirked. “Boss…?”
“Fine, three,” Finnegan bitched. In the background, I heard a bang. “I fucking swear. Hold on, cub. Estoy embarazada! Eres el padre! Mentiras, cabron!”
To muffle my laughter, I shoved a pillow against my face. Oh my God, where was he? The walls at home weren’t even thin.
Finnegan groaned. “I can’t take this much longer. Life sucks without her.” He kicked something, judging by the sound of it.
&n
bsp; And I was done. I was punishing both of us for something I was too weak to resist anyway.
“I’m more concerned about what you just yelled, Finn,” Alec snickered. “Are you learning Spanish or just parroting it?”
“Sometimes you don’t need to know the meaning to deliver a strong message,” Finnegan replied. “Bad shit went down after Teresa said it, and for the record, she didn’t fall. She was pushed.” He paused. “I think she’s pregnant.”
With a shake of my head and tears of both laughter and heartache threatening to spill over, I left the couch to get dressed. I had my foot on the first step when I remembered something.
“Alec,” I whispered. “Ask where he is.”
At the same time, Finnegan spoke up again, much more somber now. “How’s Emilia doing?”
Alec eyed me, deliberating. “Gotta go, boss.”
“What the hell?” I threw up my hands. “I have to know where he is if I’m gonna go see him.”
“He’s at the motel, so let’s go!”
“Wait, what? He’s here?” I was in disbelief, and maybe that was dumb. Of course he was here. He was here. Less than twenty minutes away. “I’m getting dressed. And I adore you, Alec, but you’re not coming with me.”
That stopped him in his tracks, and he looked positively devastated. “But…I wanted to see the reunion, Tush.”
A reunion that would no doubt turn R-rated pretty quickly. No thanks.
Five minutes later, I was driving out of the gates in Finnegan’s Aston. My stomach was a butterfly-y mess, and I probably looked like a fool. It’d started out so well, with the thought, “Hey, look your best when you tell him he’s forgiven.” I’d put on nicer underwear, a pair of tight jeans he liked because of my butt, and I’d donned some of the jewelry he’d given me. Then I’d accidentally taken his deodorant, effectively dousing me in the scent of Finnegan. My patience had run out faster than I’d run out the door.
Nothing said class like nice jewelry and a hoodie.
I sped up on the stretch of nothingness that took me from the O’Shea property to the highway, feeling the engine’s power under me.
It was time to accept. Time to adapt to the new playbook. Maybe, if I worked hard, I could change the game with time. For now, I was going to be different because they were different. The O’Sheas weren’t normal. They weren’t normal, regular, boring people, and—
Whoa. Boring?
I shook my head quickly, bewildered.
Where did that come from?
Nearing the end of the road, I squinted at something that reflected in the headlights. “What the…?” There were two cars blocking the road. I had no choice but to slow down. Two black SUVs.
I checked the rearview, only to do a double take. Three men on four-wheelers appeared behind me. Coming from the forest…? I mean, they’d had to. We were surrounded by it. Shit. My stomach dropped, and I had the queasiest feeling that something wasn’t right. Blindly searching the passenger’s seat for my phone, I watched a man step out of one of the cars in front of me, and fuck, fuck, fuck, I’d forgotten my phone.
Finnegan had an app in his car with its own contact number; I was supposed to be able to both call and text to and from it, except I didn’t know how it worked. The display lit up in its night mode, and I clicked on the touch screen, opening the app—motherfucker! Password restricted.
I took a breath, forcing myself to stay calm. It was probably nothing.
I made sure the doors were locked.
Then I remembered my necklace. Thank God. One thing that didn’t suck right now. Better safe than chopped up in the woods, I figured, and felt around the little padlock charm around my neck. I found the button to the panic alarm and pressed it repeatedly.
The man whose face I couldn’t see clearly was about twenty feet away when the display lit up again, this time with a call from Finnegan’s cell.
I pressed answer and—
“Thank fuck! You’re not wrapped around a tree. What’s—”
“End of the road near the compound, before the highway.” The words gusted out of me as I stared at the approaching man. I didn’t have much time. “Two SUVs blocked the road. I slowed down, and three ATVs came up behind me. Tell me what the fuck to do.” Panic set in, and I white-knuckled the wheel. “A man’s walking over.”
There was a second of silence before I heard a door slam and the telltale sound of a car being unlocked. “Whatever you do, do not roll down the window. You hear me?” His voice was like the first signs of a storm, a low rumble on the horizon where the sky was black. “There’s a button under the door handle. Press that, and it’ll open a valve. It’ll be enough to communicate. There’s a gun in the glove—”
“I don’t know how to use a fucking gun,” I hissed.
The man was almost here. His hair was black and gleaming. Ghostly pale skin. He wore a smile and carried a cane.
Finnegan spoke again, but I was out of time. I ended the call and pressed my panic alarm a few more times. Hopefully, he’d take that to mean hurry the hell up!
Right, that other button. My hand shook, and the man rapped the end of his thin cane on the window. There, under the handle, was a button. I pushed it, and it gave off a faint mechanical whirr.
“I’m not rolling down my window,” I said.
He chuckled lightly and bent down to peer into the car. Some hair fell in front of his eyes, and he brushed it away with a flick of his fingers. He looked young, around my age.
“You must be the little Emilia I’ve heard so much about.” He had a thick Italian accent and a weirdly high-pitched voice. “Stupid you are not, but you are alone.”
I gripped the wheel again. It was the only thing I could do to keep myself from freaking out. I held it as hard as I could and kept a foot on the gas.
“Who are you and what do you want?” I asked.
His smile widened, showing off his too-white teeth.
“My apologies, bella. My name is irrelevant, but I work for the Avellino family in Napoli. I am here to ask you if you have yet met John Murray.”
I didn’t answer. Stalling, mind spinning, too focused on making sure I breathed.
“Will you not answer me, ragazza?” he crooned.
I cocked an eyebrow. “I didn’t hear a question.”
He let out a laugh and straightened up to say something to his friends. I didn’t understand a word of it, reminding me once again that I had to get better. Days, if not weeks, before Sarah put on an engagement ring, she’d started a list of topics and skills she wanted to learn. Languages, to name one. They were for her own benefit, for her future, though I was more thinking I needed skill sets to cope with this new fucking life of mine.
The man bent down again. His fingers tapped along the roof of the car. “Such wit, such beauty. So I ask, have you met John Murray yet?”
Shouldn’t Finnegan be here by now?
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I told him.
“On the contrary.” He grinned. “You see, John Murray is family! He is my boss’s beloved brother.”
I blanched. This man, who was clearly Italian, claimed that John Murray was…Italian? I didn’t understand. Not one bit. Yet, something stirred in my memory. What was it? My eyebrows knitted together. I’d read something that’d once made me think of Italy, and it was related to the O’Sheas. Or Murrays.
At the roar of an engine, there was suddenly a flurry of activity. The ATVs retreated and drove into the woods, there was someone yelling in Italian, and the man next to me looked mildly irritated.
“Until we meet again, Emilia.”
I was gonna live?
I blew out a breath and watched them all drive away, and a beat later, two motorcycles pulled up. It was Shan and Kellan. My brain kind of went blank. Ian appeared as well, from a car. Grace’s car. This meant I was safe, right? Where was Finnegan? I needed him.
Shan knocked on the window while Kellan rounded the car, and I saw his gun. He had a fr
eaking gun. Like the one in the glove box? The one I hadn’t known existed?
My fingers were trembling again, contradicting the utter calm that spread in my head, and I opened the door for Shan. This mobster guy who would be my father-in-law in a few weeks.
“It’s safe now, hon.” He squatted down and squeezed my hand. That sly fucker. He was pressing two fingers to the inside of my wrist too. Trust me, my pulse worked. “Are you okay?”
“Probably not because I’m not crying my eyes out,” I said.
“You might be in shock.”
It didn’t feel that way.
“Where’s Finnegan?” I asked.
“On his way.” Shan stood up and extended a hand. “Let’s get you back to the compound. I want to know what happened.”
“I’m good to drive,” I insisted.
“Make up your minds.” Kellan came back. “It’s impossible to secure the perimeters when I don’t know where the fuck they went.”
Well, I wasn’t sticking around, that was for sure. With anxiety waking me up, I nudged Shan out of the way and closed the door.
Chapter 23
Emilia Porter
How long was it going to take before my meltdown claimed me? Breaking down was just something I did. I was a stupid, naïve little girl who couldn’t fucking cope, so why wasn’t the anxiety bubbling over? It was very there. It made my fingers itch and shake, and the pressure on my chest fired flashbacks at me as I spoke. However, my emotions didn’t drown me. My head was clear and level. The panic stayed back.
It was freaking me out.
I paced the lawn outside Finnegan’s and Patrick’s houses, and I had an audience. Shan, Kellan, and Ian listened to my story of what’d happened. Their reactions to learning the man was Italian included cursing and Shan sending a text to someone.
“You sure that’s the name you heard?” Kellan asked. “Avellino.”
“I’m sure. Does anyone have a cigarette?”
