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“You couldn’t text?”
I groaned, plopping into Achille’s chair. “It’s been a hectic twenty-four-hours.”
“When I came back from the bathroom, you were gone. You weren’t answering your phone. The cafe owner said they dragged you off. I was terrified.”
“Oh, honey. I bet you were. I’m so sorry for scarin’ you like that.”
“What happened?”
I gripped the edge of the desk, choosing my words carefully. “A group of guys started harassing an old man. So I went outside to stop them, and they grabbed me. Shoved me into a car.”
She gasped. “Are you okay?”
“Aside from a few bruises, yeah. We crashed a couple blocks down. I got out and ran.”
She was silent for a while. “They let you escape?”
“I guess I’m lucky.”
I chewed on my lip. I couldn’t tell her my fiancé gunned down three gangsters and captured another, but she probably suspected he was responsible for their deaths. Headlines this morning hadn’t been subtle. Deadly gang shooting in North End leaves three dead.
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t get hurt. I can’t believe you were kidnapped.”
“It was terrifying. I’ve never been so scared.”
“I can’t imagine. But you’re safe, and that’s what matters,” Becky soothed.
“I don’t feel safe.”
“Who can in this city? Travis says the DA is too soft, and I agree. The streets are a war zone. Every other day—shootings, drug busts, you name it. And the people who are supposed to protect us aren’t doing enough.” Becky sighed. “So, you’re fine?”
“My head’s spinning. It feels like I’m livin’ someone else’s life, you know? I mean, moving into his house. Marryin’ Achille. Now this?”
“Are you having second thoughts?”
I paused. “No, it’s just…I’m so far from home. Sometimes, I wake up wonderin’ how I ended up here. It’s like I’m caught in a current, being pulled deeper and deeper.”
“What’s it like at Costa’s place?”
“Better than I thought it’d be. He’s a good man, he’s sweet with Jack.”
“Have you asked him about Elise?”
“No,” I whispered, staring at the door. “Not yet. I’m afraid to bring her up.”
“You have to. You’re overlooking something.”
“What makes you say that?”
She hesitated. “Well, it’s just…your sister. She was trying so hard to make it here. You said she waited tables.”
“What about it?”
“A waitress’s salary can’t pay for a two-bedroom apartment in Boston. Ever wonder how she managed all those expenses with one job? This city isn’t cheap.”
I had wondered.
A chill traced my spine. “You think she lied to me?”
