by Bianca Cole
It leaves a window of about three minutes as he goes to fetch him and has a cigarette simultaneously.
I have three minutes to dash out that door and make it to the cover of the trees near the front of Milo’s home. I can make it out of the holes in the broken fencing at the front of his home. It should go without a hitch, and from there, I need to rely on public transport to get me to the airport.
I check my watch and see that it’s five minutes to eleven. Milo isn’t discreet about where he keeps the cash. There’s a safe in our closet. I managed to see him input the code when we were both in there together.
I have five-thousand dollars, which should be enough to get me to Sicily, I hope. My passport is packed in my rucksack. There’s no way that Milo will catch me before I can hop on a plane and get away from him forever.
I lean against the wall, waiting patiently for the guard to leave his post. Like clockwork, he leaves on the stroke of eleven o’clock. I smile as I glance around, making sure no one is around, before making my exit.
My escape is going to be easier than I ever imagined. This entire time I’ve thought there was no way out and resigned to my fate, and yet the answer to freedom has been staring me in the face the entire time.
I slip out of the front door and check there are no guards around to catch me. After a few seconds, I’m certain it’s clear. With my hood up and my black coat wrapped tightly around me, I sprint for the cover of the trees.
My heart is pounding so fast, and hard it feels like it might beat right out of my chest. Once I make it to the trees, I move more slowly against the back fence. When we drove in here yesterday afternoon, I noticed a few holes in the panels big enough for me to squeeze through.
I come to the first one and shrug my backpack off first, placing it to one side. It’s going to be a tight squeeze, but I should get through. After carefully contorting myself using my rusty gymnastics skills from high school, I manage to get through. I grab my backpack from the other side and shrug it back onto my shoulders before quickly checking that no one saw me.
It’s clear of any guards, and I slowly walk down the sidewalk with my hood up, making sure I don’t arouse suspicion by walking too fast. I’m so close to getting away I can almost taste it.
My heart skips a beat when I see a black town car drive past. It doesn’t slow until it gets to the gates.
Out of intrigue, I turn and glance to see that the back is empty. Milo isn’t in the car.
I can’t understand why my stomach sinks that I don’t get one last glance at my husband. A man who has been nothing but cruel to me since the day we met. It’s pathetic how much I long for him to feel the way I do.
Adjusting the backpack on my back, I continue to march in the direction of the bus station. It may have been easier to call a cab, but I’ve turned my phone off ever since I left the building. Milo isn’t stupid, and I know he would have ways of tracking me through my cell phone. The best choice is to take the less likely route to avoid getting caught.
When I get to the bus stop, the bus is already there waiting. I can hardly believe my luck as I pay for my fare and sit at the back of the bus, looking out of the window.
A couple of rough-looking guys get on after me, sitting closer than I’m comfortable with.
“This is going to be one fun trip, ain’t it, lad?” One of them says, glancing back at me briefly.
My stomach twists as I recognize their accents. They’re Irish, and I know the man who attempted to blow me to pieces in Milo’s dining room was Irish. It’s stupid to paint them all with the same brush. These guys probably have nothing to do with Malachy McCarthy, Milo’s enemy I’ve heard far too much about lately.
I hug my jacket tighter around me and keep my focus on the sidewalk, rushing past the window. My heart is hammering at a thousand miles an hour.
It’s a forty-minute bus ride to the airport, and although the Irish are still on the bus, they’ve barely looked at me since. I’m thankful, though, when I get off the bus and head for the terminal building ahead.
All that relief escapes me when I hear a voice behind me. “Where are you going to then, lass?”
The Irish guy that had glanced at me on the bus is standing too close to me. I turn around and find him and his two friends looming over me threateningly.
I shake my head. “I don’t want any trouble. Please don–”
One of the other guys interrupts me. “Unfortunately, you have trouble because of your husband.”
My muscles tense at the mention of Milo. “I think you’ve got the wrong person. I’m not married.”
The guy at the front laughs. “Sorry, lass, you can’t play that game with us. We watched you creep out of his home. You’re Aida Mazzeo, and you’re coming with us.” He reaches for me, and I start backward before breaking into a sprint away from them.
The terminal building is only two-hundred meters away. If I can get inside, then people won’t stand by while a woman is being assaulted. I pour all my strength and energy into reaching the building.
I can hear their footsteps thudding on the concrete behind me, getting closer and closer.
“You can’t fucking run from us, lass,” one of them shouts.
I grind my teeth together as my calves burn. It’s been a long while since I’ve run that fucking fast. When I make it to the terminal building entrance, I’m surprised they haven’t already caught me.
A woman gasps in surprise as I almost knock her over, running into the building. I glance around the lobby, which is packed with people, wondering where to go to find out about getting to Sicily. A sign for the information desk catches my eye, and I rush through the crowd toward it.
Once almost at the desk, I glance back to check for the men that chased me into here. Thankfully, I don’t see any of them. “Hello, can I help you miss?”
I nod and pull out my purse. “Yes, I want to find out how to get to Sicily from here.”
The man’s eyes widen. “We don’t have any direct flights to Sicily.” He types on his computer for a moment. “Your best option bet is to take the flight to Rome. Then from Rome, I’m sure you can make it to Sicily.”
I sigh a breath of relief, thankful that there is a direct flight from Boston to Italy at all. The quicker I get out of this fucking country, the better. “That would be perfect. Can I buy a ticket from you?”
The guy shakes his head. “No, you need to buy it from the Alitalia desk.” He points over at another counter. “There’s a flight in three hours to Rome.”
I smile. “Great, thank you for your help.”
He nods. “No problem.”
I turn around and collide with someone. My stomach sinks as I look up at the man that had chased me from the bus. I feel woozy and realize that he’s drugged me.
Reaching forward, I try to fight against him. Instead, it allows him to grab hold of me and yank me further away from the desk. My jaw feels heavy as I try to speak, but all my words come out slurred as if I’m drunk. Whatever drug he’s administered doesn’t knock me out, but it makes me feel like I’m no longer in control of my body. It feels like I’m a doll that he can do whatever he wants with.
“Come on, lass, let’s get you home to Malachy.”
My stomach churns at the mention of the man who tried to kill me. I can’t believe that I could have been on my way back to my home country in three hours. Instead, I’m being dragged into a feud between two megalomaniacs who don’t care about anyone but themselves. Malachy is bound to be as fucked up as my husband is.
24
Milo
“Sir, what is the plan?” Piero asks, breaking me from my daze.
My six lieutenants stare at me, waiting for an answer. Aida has become a distraction rather than an outlet for my desire. It’s a distraction I don’t need when trying to get my men ready for war with the Irish.
Malachy won’t see sense. After an attempt to reconcile our differences, it appears that murdering his cousin made this an impossibility. Ther
e’s no ground to move on either side, and the man I haven’t yet killed seems to be unimportant to him. He even said, kill the fucking bastard. I don’t give a shit.
It means we’re at a stalemate. The only option is war, and it’s going to get bloody. “There’s nothing left to do but go to war,” I reply.
All of my men nod in agreement. “Yes, but do we intend to retaliate on Malachy’s attempt to murder your wife?”
I wronged Malachy in killing one of his family members. His men weren’t acting under his orders when they stole my shipping container of cocaine, so it’s not his responsibility. He struck back by trying to take my wife from me. “We must respond with an equally aggressive attack, but who matters to Malachy McCarthy?”
Silence falls over the boardroom as Malachy is more private than I am. He doesn’t let anyone from the outside know who he’s close to. None of my men knew that man we captured was his cousin. Otherwise, we may have thought twice before killing him.
“We don’t know anything about the guy. Shall we torture it out of our friend?” Piero asks.
I tilt my head, considering torturing our captive as an option. The man he’s talking about is strong—too strong to give up information that sensitive. He’s as loyal as they come. “It would be futile to waste time on him.” I wave my hand. “We’ll keep him as a possible bargaining chip later on, but that man won’t betray Malachy.”
Angelo is the next to speak, “What do you propose, sir?”
I have been thinking about how to get back at Malachy. The only option is to take something I know he loves. It’s not a person, though. His 1967 L88 Corvette Convertible is his pride and joy. If I can’t take away someone he cares about, I’ll get the next best thing. “The corvette. Blow it up.”
Orfeo nods, smirking. “Fucking good idea, boss.”
I’m not too fond of Orfeo. He’s a hothead who likes blowing things up a little too much, but he was the best I had to take over from Sandro after he died. Out of all my lieutenants, he is the only one I don’t fully trust. “Get it done. We will see how he reacts but ensure all your men are briefed before we act.” I stand buttoning my suit jacket. “Everyone needs to be on alert to the danger Malachy poses.”
All my men stand too. “Yes, sir,” they respond in unison.
I run a hand through my hair, letting out a shaky breath. Malachy’s attack has me rattled, which is a first for me. He tried to take my wife, which shouldn’t matter, but it matters more than I can comprehend.
Aida has managed to mesmerize me. In Boston public gardens, there was a moment between us—a moment that frightened me away. Piero clears his throat from behind me. “Are you happy for me to leave Orfeo in charge of the Corvette?” he asks, now that we’re alone.
I nod. “It’s probably the only thing I can trust Orfeo to do, blow something up.”
Piero laughs at that. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
He pats me on the shoulder before leaving me alone in my boardroom. There’s a lot at stake if we lose this war to Malachy. Wars between criminal gangs always end with one or the other bowing out and giving over a part of their empire as a truce. Although, there have been wars that continue for years in other cities with no way of finding common ground.
All I can do is hope that this won’t be a long war. We have more power than the Irish in this city, but they are renowned for being stubborn bastards. If this is a long-term war, we’ll be looking over our shoulders for a long time. Too many casualties come from war, and it almost always gets personal. I always prided myself on having nothing to lose, but now I have everything to lose.
My angel—Aida.
The moment James pulls the car into the drive, I know something is wrong. All the guards are assembled at the front of the house. Olivia is gesturing at them angrily.
“What the fuck has happened?” I mutter.
James shakes his head. “I don’t know, sir. Would you like me to find out before you enter the house?”
I shake my head. “No, let me out here.”
He comes to a stop right in front of the crowd of staff. They’re so busy shouting at each other they don’t even notice me.
“What the fuck is going on here?” I ask, raising my voice loud enough to stop everyone in their tracks.
Everyone turns to look at me with wide, panic-stricken eyes. Something is wrong. Olivia is the one to approach me. “I have some bad news, sir.” She swallows hard. “Aida isn’t in her room, and we can’t find her anywhere in the house.”
“What?” I question calmly, wondering if I heard that right.
Olivia glances at one of my guards, and he steps forward. “It was my fault, sir. We believe she may have left the house when I went to change posts on my watch.”
White-hot panic slams into me at first. “How the fuck did Aida get out when I have ten guards on patrol at one time?” I growl.
The guard shakes his head in response. “We’ve searched the grounds but haven’t found her yet. Do you want us to widen the search outside the grounds?”
Idiot.
My panic quickly morphs into a rage. I turn away from the guard for a brief moment, pulling free the knot of my tie. “Cazzo,” I growl, turning back and punching the guard in the face.
The rest of the household staff gasp. The crack of the guard’s nose breaking is a satisfying sound. My rage has a life of its own as I grab hold of his collar. “You piece of shit. You have one job to guard my home and keep my wife safe.” I punch him in the face again, hard enough to make him bleed. “I should kill you for this.”
“Sir, wait,” Piero says from behind me, rushing up to the scene. He sets a firm hand on my shoulder. “Breathe, sir. Let’s go inside.”
I spin around, ready to attack Piero.
He stands in front of me with his shoulders squared, ready to receive the force of my rage. Piero is fearless as he stares me in the eyes. “If you need to hit someone, then hit me.” He shrugs. “It won’t help find your wife, though.”
As always, my capo is my voice of reason. I inhale a long, slow breath to calm myself down. I turn to face my staff. “I want her found, or there will be hell to pay. Do you hear me?”
I’m met with everyone nodding frantically in response. I clap my hands. “Well, get on with it then,” I growl.
Everyone rushes away from me, except for the guard that fucked up. He admitted it was his fault, but I’ve never lost control like that in front of my staff. Everyone knows who I am and what I’m capable of, but they also always witness a man in control.
When they told me that Aida was gone, I snapped. First, I wasn’t here when my enemy delivered a bomb into her hands, and now she’s escaped.
Piero clears his throat. “Let’s get inside and make a plan to find your wife, sir.”
I nod, stepping around the broken guard on the floor. “Yes.” I turn my attention to Olivia. “Olivia, can you get someone to sort him out.” I nod toward the guard whose name I don’t know.
“Right away, sir.”
I walk swiftly into my home, trying to control the rage and panic mixing inside of me. A wife wasn’t supposed to be a weapon that my enemies can use against me. Aida was supposed to be nothing more than a means to an end. She gave me a way to get my hands on her father’s Sicilian empire once he dies and provide me with an heir to that empire.
Instead, she’s become the single most important thing to me in this world. I can’t lose her no matter how cruel she thinks I am. No matter how much she hates me for forcing her to stay, I won’t let her run. I’ll follow her to the ends of the earth. She’s mine and always will be.
Piero follows me into my office, where he shuts the door. “Boss, you need to get a handle of your emotions before they eat you alive.”
I release a shaky breath, trying to find some sense of control inside of myself. “I can’t lose Aida,” I reply.
Piero clears his throat. “I take it that your wife has become important to you since you married.”
&nbs
p; I spin around to face my second in command. “Not a word of this to anyone, do you understand?” I say, glaring at him. There’s no way I want anyone other than him to know the true extent of my feelings for the woman I’m wed to.
It looks like it took losing her to admit that to myself even. All I’ve done is hurt her. The way she looked at me on the bridge in Boston garden’s cut me to the core, but I coated my heart in steel. I didn’t let her in. I couldn’t. The last thing I want is to feel the pain I felt when my father murdered my mother.
I’m a fucking fool since pushing her away has only put her in danger. We’re at war with the Irish, and Aida has run away. She’s alone in Boston with no clue about this city.
“Your secret is safe with me, sir.”
I nod in reply. “They had better find Aida. It’s not safe for her on the streets with the war between the McCarthy clan about to start.”
Piero’s brow furrows. “Do you think we should put a hold on blowing up the Corvette until we recover her?”
I clench my jaw, knowing that giving that order would look weak. If I delay my attack because my wife has gone missing, I’ll look like I’ve lost the plot. It’s not an option. If we’re going to war, I need my men to be able to trust my judgment. “No, we go ahead with the plan as agreed.”
All I can do is hope that Aida keeps as far away as possible from any of the McCarthy clan. Malachy wouldn’t be merciful if he got his hands on her. After all, he tried to blow her to pieces in my own fucking home. I can’t even think about what he’d do if he could get his hands on her.
25
Aida
The soothing sound of water cresting filters through the air. For a moment, I’m lying on the beach in Sicily, listening to the waves crashing against the shore gently.
When I open my eyes, the reality couldn’t be farther from the beach in Sicily. I’m tied to an old wooden chair in the center of a warehouse full to the brim with cocaine. I know what tons of cocaine looks like since my father takes shipments regularly in Sicily. He supplies most of the cocaine consumed in Italy and a huge amount of Europe.
