Page 48 of Savage Don

“I’ll send them over to the lab, get them checked out for DNA and the sorts,” I tell him, hardly able to hold back my smile. The nonsense coming from my mouth is palpable.

“To the lab, are you fucking kidding me?”

“It’s one of the benefits of buying out your choice of federal agents,” I shrug, knowing full well that Domenico doesn’t have those kinds of connections. “It gives you all kinds of useful tools at your disposal.”

Before he can process the insult, I’m already moving away.

He shouts something after me, but I don’t listen. I’m in a hurry to get back to the girl who smells like vanilla and eucalyptus.

It doesn’t take us long to push our way back down to the foyer. But before I can get to the door and push my way out of this place, it opens, and an all-too familiar face walks in.

Immediately, I’m stopped in my tracks.

My heart drops and a sharp knot tightens in my gut. It’s a reaction I’m used to. It’s how my body always reacts when I see her.

Francesca’s step-mom.

I knew there was a chance she’d be here. Still, I took that risk. No matter how little I wanted to see her again. Ever since that awful day, all those years ago, I’ve been doing my best to avoid this woman.

But she always finds a way back into my life. Like a curse that refuses to be lifted. It doesn’t matter that she’s married to one of my underlings, her presence still sends a chill skating up my spine.

Sonia.

She’s blocking off the doorway.

10

Francesca

The frozen meats in the fridge are better than they have any right to be—especially since this is an Irish household.

Despite the lack of Italian flavor, the cold cuts make for a delicious sandwich. It’s almost good enough to ease my hangover and let me sit back and really think.

Not that I’m sure I want to.

I’ve gotten myself into a real mess, and I’m not sure there’s any real way out of it.

That doesn’t mean I don’t try to make myself comfortable, though. I might as well make the most of this forced bit of ‘freedom’ while I have it. Who knows how long it will last?

Chugging some more water, I shuffle over to the kitchen window and stare out onto the seemingly endless stretch of back lawn. The sun has gone down, and the world is dark, but little dots of lamplight wander up and down the property, patrolling for any signs of danger.

Guards.

There’s more out front. I saw them with my own eyes. And while I didn’t test them on their purpose, I couldn’t help but wonder if they were being used more to keep me in, or others out.

Not that it matters.

I’m not going anywhere. For at least the next few days, this is my hideout. It’s almost a calming thought, to commit to such a thing–even if the idea that I’ll be spending those days with Ray sends a mixed shiver running down my spine.

The fear and the dread swirl around with lust and desire. The concoction churns my gut and clenches my toes, and I can’t help but hug myself at the fresh memory of what Ray put me through in the shower.

It was so intense.

And so fucking hot.

I didn’t have the guts to put my sticky old clothes back on, so, ever since Ray left, I’ve been limping around on these sore legs of mine, just barely covered up by a towel that I found in the bathroom.

It’s made me too naked for my own good.