“Who is Con?” I ask, leaning forward in my chair.
“Mateo Conti.” Dom runs a hand through his dark hair, tension radiating from him. “Amara knows something about Con. I overheard her talking to Milly about it.”
I stand up, needing to move. “What is it?”
“I’d prefer to keep it to myself,” Dom says, his jaw tightening.
“Enough to kill someone for?” I press, pacing across my small kitchen.
Dom’s eyes track my movement. “Where Mateo Conti is concerned, looking at him wrong is cause to be killed.”
“Loose cannon,” I mutter, stopping by the window to look out at my modest backyard.
Dom nods, turning the same way, his reflection visible in the glass. “And it makes sense.”
The weight of everything—Amara’s pregnancy, the attempt on her life, this new connection—settles heavily on my shoulders. “I think I need a whiskey,” I say, moving to a cabinet and pulling out a bottle of Macallan and two tumblers. I pour us each two fingers and hand one to Dom.
“What do we do now?” I ask, taking a sip and welcoming the burn.
Dom accepts the glass but doesn’t drink. His eyes are cold, calculating. “You do nothing. I’ll deal with it.”
I take another sip of whiskey, the burn in my throat nothing compared to the fire in my chest. Amara and Dom. The image of them together twists something inside me, but I force myself to focus on the bigger picture.
“But how does the mayor fit into this?” I ask, setting my glass down harder than intended.
Dom shrugs, his face unreadable. “I don’t know. Something isn’t adding up. Once I get some intel on the car, I’ll know more.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the counter. “Do you want me to talk to my brother?”
“No, Caleb, I think we have everything we need from him.” Dom’s voice is firm, brooking no argument. “It’s best that I deal with this directly from now on. If Mateo is involved, I have to tread carefully. He still might try to kill her.Which means the less the police know, the better.”
I study his face, the hard lines around his mouth, the icy determination in his eyes. I’ve known Dom long enough to recognize what that look means.
“You’re going to kill the person, even if it’s this Con guy?”
Dom doesn’t hesitate. “Even if it is Con.”
I nod slowly, not entirely comfortable with this, but understanding his position. If someone tried to hurt Poppy, I’d likely feel the same way. And with Amara carrying his child...
Hell, I’d kill for Amara too.
“Can I see Amara today?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
Dom’s eyes meet mine and he’s silent for a moment, weighing something in his mind. Finally, he nods.
“You can. But leave it until after five. She sent me a message to say Milly is taking her to the beach and shopping.”
“Again? Poppy said she’s hardly seen Amara this week because she's spending so much time with Milly.”
Dom smiles. “It’s nice to see Amara smile this past week.”
33
Amara
The wind whips throughmy hair as Milly pushes her convertible faster along the coastal road.
Shopping bags rustle in the back seat from our latest afternoon spree. For the first time since waking up in that hospital bed, I feel something close to normal.
