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“He never showed in Boston last night.” Shannon panted. I could hear her shoes clapping on marble floor. She was pacing at home. “Tom called and asked if I was with him.”
Fuck. That had been over twelve hours ago. Something was wrong. Something was very fucking wrong. I spun around, turning the stove burners off.
“Who’s with you?” I asked, making sure she wasn’t alone while she waited for word.
“Just Guillermo,” she replied, her anxiety worsening at the sound of mine.
Guillermo was their personal chef. Where was my younger brother? “Kieran?”
“Scouring the streets.”
“Stay calm,” I told her, although I felt anything but as I jogged into the bedroom.
Emma was just getting out of the shower, her hair still soaking wet and a plush towel wrapped around her torso. I reached into the closet, snatched the first dress I felt then tossed it to her.
“We’ll be there tomorrow,” I informed Shannon, ending the call. I hoped she would take my advice. It wasn’t good for the baby to feel such stress, but it was inevitable given the circumstances.
When Emma saw my grim expression, her eyes widened. She slipped the dress over her head, yanking it down to her thighs as she stepped into a pair of sandals.
“We’re leaving,” I stated, throwing her phone, laptop and a few other necessary items into a backpack. I’d have the rest of our belongings shipped to us.
Thinking, as I had, that it was about the baby, Emma’s nerves bled into her tone. “Charlie’s not due yet.”
I swung the backpack over my shoulder, grabbed Emma’s hand and all but dragged her out of the bungalow. She struggled to keep up, her untied halter dress sliding off her shoulders. I bent down, scooped her into my arms, and carried her the rest of the way to the car. My brother had already been missing twelve hours and we wouldn’t land in New York for another twelve. I was pressed for time.
“Get a flight plan set to La Guardia,” I ordered the pilot, cell phone pressed to my ear as I buckled Emma into the G-Class. “We need to be in the air in an hour.”
The pilot acquiesced without hesitation. I slammed Emma’s door and rounded the front of the vehicle, throwing the bag into the backseat. The tires kicked up gravel as we sped onto the small street, well hidden from Santorini’s higher-traffic tourist areas. I dialed another number and my younger brother answered over Bluetooth on the second ring.
“How far out?” Kieran asked, his monotone voice echoing throughout the interior of the vehicle. It sent a renewed jolt of panic through my bones. I hadn’t heard his tone like that in years. Out of the three of us, Kieran was the least uptight.
“Twelve hours.” I swerved past an old pickup truck, the bed of which was filled to the brim with potted plants destined for a local vineyard. Emma grabbed the side of the door to steady herself. “Call a meeting.”
“With who?”
“Everyone. Meet at the northern safe house.”
“Done,” Kieran said, ending the call before I had the chance.
“What is it?” Emma’s voice was faint. She knew something bigger was going on. This wasn’t how I would react to the news of a baby coming.
“It’s Connor,” I gritted out, my jaw twitching as I admitted it aloud. “Someone got to him.”
Chapter Two
Emma
We were aboard the O’Connells’ private jet, putting space between us and the aqua sea, in just over an hour.
I didn’t know how he’d gotten a flight plan and clearance in that small amount of time, but I’d stopped being shocked by Jack’s capabilities long ago. The people who worked with him, and for him, knew better than to fail an order.
My stomach was in knots. The O’Connell brothers—Connor, Jack and Kieran—were the three-headed demon that governed the Irish mob in New York. They were close and, as such, trusted no one more than each other. They’d suffered together under the wrath of their father Frank. Sharing such a violent and abusive childhood had bonded them. With Jack not knowing where his sibling was, my heart ached for him, even if he hid his emotions behind a meticulously controlled mask.
On the other hand, Shannon would be wrought with worry. I wished I could offer her comfort, but it was impossible to make a phone call aboard the small aircraft. We would be dark for the next half-day, just as Connor was, but everyone was abreast of our whereabouts. No one knew where the face of the O’Connell family was.
Jack’s gaze burned my profile as I looked out of the window, the sea now a solid expanse of blue beneath us. We passed above a few clouds, their white puffs like spun candy. Despite the stress of the situation, I was painfully aware that I wasn’t wearing panties. I’d barely had enough time to put the sundress on.
By the heat of his stare, Jack was alerted to my missing undergarments as well.
