by Sadie Jacks
Willow smiled. “Thank goodness.” Her voice was a little raw from over three straight hours of talking. She raised a hand to cover her yawn. “I’m so sorry, that was rude.”
Wright waved it away. “No, it was rude to ask you to do this at the end of the business day. But I do thank you for doing it right now. I’m going to write up some notes for myself, and then go home to my wife and just hold her.” He stood up, reached across the desk. “Thank you for your bravery, your strength, and your moral code that brought you to report these things the first time around. New Trenadie is a richer city for having you in it.”
Willow stood, as did I, as she took his hand. “I’d hope I wouldn’t be the only one to make the same decisions, but thank you.”
Wright turned to me, hand out.
I leaned forward, shook it. “We’re available tomorrow. Let’s say after twelve noon?” I smiled. “If it’s an emergency, you can call before that. But please make sure the sky is falling before you dial either of our numbers.”
We all chuckled as I led Willow from the office. We took the stairs down the single flight to the ground floor. Cupcake might have been joking about too many elevators. I just couldn’t blame her for it. Way too many elevators the last couple of weeks.
I held the door open for her as we passed out into the night air. Autumn was just getting started, and her nip was a bit fierce. I wrapped my arms around Willow. Neither of us had thought to bring jackets.
With one eye on her, I kept watch over our surroundings. Too many things had happened in too short a time for me to ever take security for granted again. I noted the four silent shadows of the Amatucci soldiers who followed us.
Instead of being butthurt that they thought I couldn’t protect Willow by myself, I welcomed their help. She was more important than my pride. Hands down. No contest.
I got us to the car in short order. Settling her in the front seat, I walked around and slid behind the wheel. I even gave our shadows a couple minutes to get into their own vehicles.
“I’m so surprised, hero.”
I smirked. “About?”
“You being nice to the soldiers. You’re living proof that an old dog can learn new tricks.” She reached over, patted my leg.
I snorted, grabbed her fingers. “I’m not old. And I’ve been on the verge of losing you too many times over the last three weeks to ever be cavalier about extra protection for the rest of our lives.” I planted a kiss in her palm.
She was quiet.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” I asked softly as we passed the halfway point to home.
“Three weeks. That’s not a lot of time. We’ve already talked about marriage.” Her voice was soft.
I could feel my belly start to twist. “And?”
“And it’s only been three weeks, hero. Are we moving too fast?”
“No.” I made it a short hard statement. “No. Neither of us are fickle or flighty. We’ve been through the worst life has to offer. We know our own minds and hearts. If you want to take longer before we get married, that’s fine. But we will be getting married.” I wanted—needed—that knowledge out there. For her to hear it. I wasn’t going to change my mind. Not about this. Not about her. Not about us.
We were forever.
We were always.
She squeezed my fingers. “But three weeks? I’m sure some of your business negotiations take months, if not years, to work out. Are you sure you want to tie yourself to me for the rest of your natural life on the basis of three weeks of acquaintance?”
I snarled, pressed down the gas pedal. I needed to look into her eyes, let her see into mine. “Yes. For a multitude of reasons. The biggest one: I’m not willing to let you go. Ever. Everything else? We can work on that. Talk it out. Fight about it. Scream. Yell. Anything you want. But leaving you? Or letting you leave me?” I shook my head. I turned to look at her as we slid to a stop at a red light. “Not happening.” I let go of her hand and slid my hand behind her neck. Pulling her towards me, I ravaged her mouth.
We were both breathing hard when the horn sounded from behind us. “Ever,” I said softly.
She nodded, her eyelids low, her gaze hot. “You’re my choice, Ryker. Now until forever, you’re the one I choose for me. Selfishly. Brazenly. Wholly. You are mine.”
My belly settled. I nodded. “Right back at you, cupcake.” I drove into the underground garage of my building.
Tonight, I wanted nothing more than to chill with my forever woman in my arms. Just be with her. Hold her against me. Rest in the knowledge that we were good. Strong. And together.
“One last elevator ride for the day, cupcake.” I opened the car door, pulled her up into my arms. “Then we’ll kick the rest of your clothes to the side, get into our jammies, and watch a movie we both fall asleep to within the first half hour.”
She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, smacked a kiss to my cheek. “Heaven.”
I smiled as I carried her across the garage to my private elevator. “Action? Romance? Horror? What’s your flavor?”
She tipped her head to the side. “Action?”
I nodded. “Sure. Although what action movie do you know of that’s also sappy?” I hit the button for the penthouse floor. Shuffled her around so I could lay my palm against the biometric plate.
She shrugged. “I’m not a huge romance movie fan. And besides, most of the Marvel movies can be quite poignant. Like the death scene in Infinity War: End Game?” She clutched at her chest dramatically. “Gets me right in the feels when Iron Man takes the gauntlet and says, ‘I am Iron Man,’ right before he snaps his fingers and dies.”
I chuckled. “Well, thanks for ruining that one for me.”
She gasped, eyes wide as she stared up at me. “Seriously?”
I nodded. “I’ve been a bit busy. Haven’t gotten around to getting that one watched yet.”
She heaved a sigh. “Well, dang it, hero!” She slapped my shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me to shut up?” Her eyes lit up. “Oo, or kiss me to make me stop talking?” She puckered her lips.
I swooped in, took the offering.
The doors slid open.
“Sweet fuck, you two are always sucking face!” Rafe said.
I had Willow down on her feet and behind my back before his words fully registered. My gun was out and pointed at him.
He raised his eyebrows and his hands. “Damn, bro. Ease up.”
Adrenaline surged through my system in waves. “What the fuck are you doing up here?”
Mas stood up in the living room. My mom was sitting with him and the rest of the Amatucci family. “We have come to finish our discussion from earlier,” Mas said once he was close enough.
He eyed Willow up and down. “Good, sorella. I’m glad I don’t have to beat you.”
I swung the gun, aimed it at the deadliest family member in the penthouse. “Excuse me?”
Mas chuckled. “I told her I would paddle her ass so hard she wouldn’t sit for a month if she allowed herself to be hurt. She is in good condition.” He turned back to the living room, uncaring that a loaded, cocked, and readied firearm was pointed at his back.
He waved us forward.
Willow came up, slid her hands over my arm with the gun. “Come on. Let’s get this done, then I’m stealing you for at least twenty hours.”
I uncocked the gun, put it back in my inner pants holster. “Twenty hours?”
She nodded. “Girls night tomorrow, remember?”
I groaned. “Can’t you postpone?”
She laughed as she wrapped her arm around my back. “Nope. You go spend time with my brothers, I’ll spend time with yours and my sisters, and we’ll all be the better for it. Normal things. Mundane things.” She patted my gun. “That was hot as fuck, by the way. I didn’t even know you had it on you.”
I admit to being hot right before we get to have a family meeting. My girl loved to torture me in small ways. “I started keeping one in each of the cars.”
/>
“But when?”
I shrugged. “I might have had PC security install them while we were doing the recovery op for Corrie.”
She sighed. Tipped her head back and looked up at me. “So. Fucking. Hot.”
I groaned again. “Not now, woman. Your parents are here.” I jutted my chin at the mafia boss and her husband.
She pinched my butt before taking a seat next to Tali.
I huffed as I looked around my living area. Fucking host of this family meeting and no-fucking-where to sit.
Fuck my life.
Chapter 17 – Willow
I smiled at Daphne.
She smiled back, nodded. “I’d like to speak to you privately once we both have some free time. Is that okay?”
I nodded. “Yes, whenever you’re ready, I’ll make time.”
She smiled again before turning to address the whole room. “First, sorry to my son and Willow for commandeering your home. Second, what I’m about to tell you must never be spoken of outside of these four walls or I could lose my job.”
All the Amatuccis smiled and nodded.
“We know how to keep secrets, Momma Penn,” Momma said.
Daphne jolted. “Sheridan. Mrs. Sheridan.”
“She didn’t mea—” I began.
Momma waved me off. “I am sorry, Momma Sheridan. I did not mean to cause you pain.”
Daphne chuckled awkwardly. “I haven’t used Ryker’s surname since my divorce was final. You just startled me.” She waved that away.
“Next order of business, I need to know if Antonia de Silva is dead. The progression of the rest of this meeting hinges on that answer.”
“She is dead,” Mas answered.
Daphne leaned forward, her gaze direct. “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand you. Could you please repeat that?”
The rest of the Amatucci family shuffled and squirmed in their seats as Momma opened her mouth.
Mas nodded. He waited for everyone to quiet down. We were all accustomed to Mas’ damaged voice and didn’t draw extra attention to it. A strike on both sides of my family. This was turning out to be a shit show.
“Antonia de Silva is dead,” Mas repeated, straining his voice to a slightly louder volume. He rubbed at his throat.
Daphne blinked. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought you were simply whispering, not that your vocal cords had been damaged.” Red rode her cheeks.
Momma growled low in her throat.
Both matriarchs looked at each other. After a long taut silence they smiled. Momma even chuckled. “Let us dispense with the formalities, yes?”
Daphne’s shoulders relaxed as she blew out a breath. “You’re all so intimidating. I didn’t want to say anything inflammatory and ended up doing just that. I’m so sorry.”
Momma laughed again. “And us with you. Let us simply acknowledge we are fierce, strong women with no time or inclination for bullshit and move on. We will speak plainly and not dance around direct language.”
Daphne laughed. “That sounds wonderful. I can see now where Willow gets her directness.”
Momma straightened her spine, smiled. “Si.” She waved Daphne to continue.
Daphne nodded. “Right.” She licked her lips. The first time I’d ever seen her give into a nervous gesture. “I work in family court.” She smiled. “I’m sure you all know that.”
Nico smiled, nodded. “Yes, and to help ease your current burden, allow me to tell you that Antonia de Silva and her entire organization were-slash-are complicit in multiple crimes. With her death, any information you share no longer falls under attorney-client privilege.”
Daphne blew out a breath. “I’ll still step carefully as that particular news has not yet reached my office.” She turned to Mas. “In my dealings with Ms. De Silva, I became aware of a minor female child.”
Mas shot to his feet, advanced on Daphne. “Where? Where is my daughter?”
Daphne shrank back.
Ryker stepped forward, careful not to put hands on the shortest Amatucci brother. “I believe she was getting around to telling you. Sit down and stop intimidating her and she might finish her statement.”
Mas’ lip curled up but he nodded and returned to his seat. “Please, go on.”
Daphne blinked a couple times. “I have an Italian birth certificate that lists one Massimo Andretti as the father. Not Amatucci.”
Mas shrugged that off. “I have…paperwork to verify that is my name.”
Daphne’s chuckle was hoarse. “She also provided me with the death certificate of one Massimo Andretti. Do you have it available right now?”
He shook his head. “No. Nia told me, after I shot her, that my daughter’s name is Amara de Silva. Is this the name of the minor female child?”
Daphne nodded. Her brow wrinkled. “If she told you the name, why did she come to me to transfer custody?”
Mas shook his head.
Nico stepped in. “Let me see if I understand: Antonia de Silva came to you as a member of the New York State family court system.”
Daphne nodded. “Yes. She was seeking legal options for transferring custody for her daughter, Amara de Silva.”
Mas’ fingers curled into a fist. “My daughter.”
Daphne looked at him for a long moment. “If you can provide me proof that you are also Massimo Andretti, then yes.”
Mas stood up, nodded. He pointed at his brother. “Rafe, you go to my house. You know where my stuff is. Bring it back here. Now.”
Rafe bristled but did as he was ordered. He jogged across the room to the elevators.
Mas looked back at Daphne. “Please continue.”
Daphne looked at Ryker.
Looked at me. I nodded. “I trust them with my life and Ryker’s. You trusted him with Corrie’s.”
Daphne’s eyes welled. “Very true.” She nodded. “Antonia was seeking to transfer custody of Amara. The only problem is, no one seems to know Amara’s location.”
Nico held up a hand, waited for the Amatucci family to quiet down. “What does that mean?”
Daphne licked her lips again. “Exactly what I said. According to Antonia, her…organization has been searching for Amara for the last year. She was in the process of transferring custody to a trusted friend?” Daphne shrugged. “We hadn’t gotten down to that part of it yet. I met with her a grand total of three times. Her file is less than ten pages long. But she kept saying that Massimo would never find her. If he found her, he would kill Antonia for keeping him from his daughter.”
“So Antonia had not only lost her daughter physically, but was trying to keep the father from knowing the daughter at all? She even produced a false death certificate to make it legal,” Nico said in a tight voice.
Daphne nodded. “Yes. When I heard Nik call you Mas today and that you were all so sure Antonia de Silva was behind the kidnapping, I took a leap that you were, in fact, the Massimo she kept ranting about.”
Mas stood up again. This time his demeanor was calm. He walked over to Daphne, knelt beside her chair. He leaned forward, pressed his lips to her cheek. “Thank you.” He laid his head on her knee for a brief moment.
Daphne’s hands stilled in the air over his bent head. She laid them against his hair. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you find her. You saved my baby today. I will help you save yours.”
Mas leaned back, nodded. “Grazie, signora.” He rose to his feet and went back to his chair.
“If you can prove the death certificate is fake, custody will revert automatically to the father. Especially if Antonia went out of her way to make sure Massimo was unaware of his daughter. There would be supervised visits and an evaluation of suitability to have her live with you, but that shouldn’t be too difficult.” Her lips quirked up. “Assuming you have a steady job that doesn’t involve regular danger.”
Mas snorted. “I could take a more managerial position.” He looked to his boss and mother. “I would take a more managerial position.”
Momma nodded. “Si, ragazz
o. Babies are treasured not used.”
Mas’ whole frame wilted. As if he’d expected to be turned down.
“Do you have any leads on Amara’s whereabouts now?” Nico asked Daphne.
Daphne shook her head. “No. Antonia only wanted me to have the paperwork drawn up and ready to go before a judge once she was found.” She reached over, pulled a folder from her bag. “Here it is. And if anyone at the office discovers I showed it to you, I lose my job and I’ll be disbarred.”
Momma spoke up. “We will not let any harm come to you, Momma Sheridan. We protect our family and friends.”
Daphne nodded. “Thank you for that. Thank you for helping my daughter today.” Tears gathered on her lashes. “I can’t thank you enough. If there is ever anything I can do, you have only to reach out. If it’s within my power to give, it will be yours.”
Turo chuckled. “Be careful with your promises, Mrs. Sheridan. We take them quite seriously. If you can help us find Mas’ daughter, we will consider all to be even.”
“She accepts,” Ryker said as Daphne opened her mouth again.
The Amatuccis laughed.
Nico reached forward for the file. “If I may?”
Daphne handed it over. “Like I said, it’s very thin. I have the resignation of parental rights for Antonia de Silva. Signed posthumously in absentia for one Massimo Andretti.”
“What if we could establish paternity?” I asked.
Everyone turned to look at me.
Shit. I hadn’t expected to become the center of attention.
“Explain, sorella,” Mas said.
I swallowed. “Well, if we could run DNA…stuff on Massimo and Amara, that could wipe out all of the fiasco with Andretti, correct?”
“But the child is missing, figlia,” Momma reminded me gently.
I shook my head. “Perhaps, but you can’t tell me Antonia didn’t keep any of Amara’s stuff. A lock of baby hair. Cord blood. Something.” I looked at Daphne. “That would work, right?”
She nodded. “Yes, that could be used to establish paternity. It would make any document null and void from Antonia as she wouldn’t be the surviving parent. But we would need to find genetic material of Amara and send it out for comparison.”
