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Yes, I want him, maybe even more than I ever did before. I’m no longer a girl wearing rose-colored glasses and telling myself lies of happily ever after.
I’m a grown woman, quickly falling in love once more with a man I’ve been tied to nearly all of my adult life. Being with him could literally be fatal for both of us.
This is a bad, bad idea.Chapter 8~Carmine~I had no idea that my grandmother was a hoarder. Admittedly, I didn’t spend a lot of time in her home as an adult. As children, my brothers and I, along with Elena, spent weeks here in the summer, playing and exploring the big house on the cliffs. Nothing was off-limits to us.
Our grandmother doted on us the way any normal grandparent does.
The only difference was, ours was the matriarch of a mafia empire.
No big deal.
Cannonballs in the pool. Ice cream in the gazebo. Treasure hunts in the attic that spans the entire house, the space filled with antiques and trunks full of old things.
We loved being here together, where we could do as we pleased and be indulged by a loving grandmother.
I miss her already. I was at her bedside when she died, the only one in the room when she whispered her secret to me.
“Elena,” she said, making me sigh.
“She’s not here, Grams.”
“Helped her,” she said and then coughed. “Helped her get away.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Is she alive, Grams?”
“Hidden,” she confirmed. “Find her before your father. Keep her safe.”
And when I was carrying her casket at the church and looked up and saw the two different-colored eyes staring back at me, I knew. I knew it was Elena. She could wear any disguise in the world, and I’d still know her.
She was like a sister to me.
Of course, I had to tell my father that she’s alive. If he found out I’d kept something that huge from him…well, I wouldn’t like to know what the punishment for that might be.
But I played stupid about the rest of it. Grams knew that Elena was in danger, and I would find her and do everything in my power to keep her safe.
Now, to figure out where the fuck she is.
I’ve had a pit in my stomach for days. Rocco was right in the elevator. There would be a punishment for her staying away from the family so long. For disregarding her place in the hierarchy.
The thought of it makes me sick.
I slam a desk drawer shut in disgust.
“I’ve been through here,” I mumble, wiping my hand down my mouth. I’ve been over every inch of Grams’ office.
There’s nothing here.
On a hunch, I run my hand under the pen drawer and find a button. When I push it, an invisible drawer on the side springs free.
“Son of a bitch.”
I look over my shoulder, even though I know for a fact I’m here alone. It’s two in the morning. Rocco left several hours ago.
The drawer is deep and filled to the brim. I feel like a kid again, hunting for treasures in the attic as I start pulling things out and setting them on the desk before me.
A flash drive. That goes directly into my pocket. I’ll look at it later from the safety and privacy of my own home.
A notebook full of nothing but numbers. No notes to explain what they mean, just rows and rows of digits. Could they be phone numbers? Bank accounts? I have no fucking clue.
I set it aside.
There’s some jewelry, birth and death certificates. It seems Grams liked this hidden desk drawer for important things rather than an actual safe.
Which was empty, by the way.
A scrap of paper at the bottom of the drawer catches my eye.
I sit back and hold it up in the light.
Bingo.
I found her.Chapter 9~Archer~“How was your day?”
I can’t stop staring at her. We’re in her little cottage, and she’s gathering her things, a light sweater and her purse, almost ready to go out on our date. She’s in a barely-there yellow sundress, perfect for the warm, late-summer evening. Her dark hair is loose and falls in waves down her back.
Southern Oregon is in the midst of an Indian summer. Or so I’ve been told at least six times today from various locals around town.
“Busy, but really good,” she says with a smile. “We finally hired an extra person at the refuge, so I get tomorrow off. It’ll be the first day off I’ve had in months, at least one that wasn’t because of a funeral.”
“Spend it with me,” I say immediately and smile down at her when her eyes jump up to mine. “Pack an overnight bag and spend the night at my place tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll goof off together.”
“I should get some things done. I have laundry and bills to pay. I was thinking about—”
“Please.”
She sighs as if she’s waging war inside herself, and then she turns without a word and walks upstairs to her bedroom.
