“I genuinely thought someone had taken her.”
His lips touch the top of my head.
“If someone ever tries,bella, I would stop at nothing to get her back.”
I believe him.
That’s the frightening part.
And, right now, the comforting one.
Chapter Eighteen
Maverick
Rory and Livy were waiting for us when we got home yesterday. Amelia seems to have forgotten all about the incident, but I haven’t.
The fact that Rory thought he had the right to take Olivia from school without telling her mother still doesn’t sit right with me.
Yes, I know he has known her practically her entire life. I know Amelia trusts him, and he’s been there for Olivia since she was little. But that doesn’t automatically give him the right to step in and make decisions regarding Olivia as if he’s her parent.
She’s not his daughter.
He doesn’t get to change her plans, remove her from school, and simply assume Amelia will be fine with it afterward. I don’t give a damn how harmless his intentions were. For several terrifying minutes, Amelia believed her daughter had been taken.
That alone should have been enough for him to realize he’d crossed a line.
I need to have a good, long conversation with the man, but it’s going to have to be put on the back burner for now.
Right now, I have several very angry men pacing inside my office…and a new threat to deal with.
“Explain it to me again,” I say, pouring myself a glass of whisky.
It’s barely afternoon, but I’ve already decided today calls for it.
I need a vacation.
Preferably somewhere warm and quiet, with my two pretty ladies at my side and no one trying to threaten, rob, betray, or murder anyone for at least a full week.
At this point, that might be asking too much.
“We received a call this morning from some man in Ohio claiming he had important information for the person in charge of the Moretti family,” Foster explains.
“If he did,” I slowly swirl the amber liquid around my glass, “why didn’t he simply reach out to me? I may run a not-so-legal empire, but contacting my people has never been particularly difficult.”
“I believe the technical term is criminal organization,” Skip offers from the other side of the room.
I look over at him.
“What?” he says. “You said ‘not-so-legal empire’ like you occasionally forget to file the correct paperwork.”
Spike snorts from where he’s pacing in front of the windows.
“Continue,” I tell Foster.
“The man didn’t have a direct number for you. He called one of the businesses connected to the family and apparently kept demanding to speak to the man in charge.”
“Which business?”
