“That’s up to you,” Luciano replied.
“I’m being paid a lot of money for this job,” she said. “I was told not to ask questions, no chit chat, just drive. I can do that if you put the damn gun away.”
Gabriel glanced at Luciano, who nodded once. His brother returned the weapon to its holster, and the men ducked into the vehicle. The driver said nothing en route to Heathrow. At Departures, Luciano hugged his brother goodbye, waited until he disappeared into the main terminal.
Minutes later, Luciano was seated in his jet, the pilots waiting for clearance to taxi. He retrieved his bags, got comfortable in a leather chair, and stared out the window. While his heart should have felt heavy, it didn’t.
That’s because I don’t have a heart. Not anymore.
If the Bomb Maker was already in the US, how many steps ahead of law enforcement was he?
On the flight back, he texted his cousin, Carrera Santini, a senior exec at the FBI and Sinclair Develin, the man known for being Washington, DC’s Fixer.
We need to talk
Seconds passed, then a response from Carrera.
Come to the house for dinner Monday
Followed by a response from Sin.
In Miami. Back Monday afternoon. Talk then.
Monday couldn’t come soon enough for Luciano. In the meantime, he’d occupy his thoughts with something much more arousing.
Simone Redding.
SIMONE
Sunday late afternoon,Simone was working at her kitchen table when the doorbell rang. She checked the app.
No way.
She swung open her front door to the largest bouquet she’d ever seen.
“Simone Redding?” asked the courier.
“You got her.” After taking the bouquet, she returned to the kitchen and set it on the table.
There’s no way it’s from him.
As she plucked out the card, she admitted that getting flowers from Luciano Santini wouldn’t be the end of the world. It’s not like her boss would find out. As far as Simone knew, she wasn’t sure what her new boss knew or didn’t know, but that was all going to get cleared up on Monday.
She read the card…
Next time, ladies first
…and warmth spread from her chest up to her neck while her lips tugged up in a smile.
There was no signature, but she didn’t need to call the florist.
The bouquet was lavish. Leaning close, she inhaled a heavily-scented pink rose, then a yellow one with bright orange tips. Her eyes fluttered closed and she breathed them in again.
So beautiful.
The five Birds of Paradise alone were stunning, but paired with the dozen roses, the baby’s breath, and the greenery, made for a breathtaking arrangement.
He knows how to get my attention.
