Page 17 of Married to the Enemy

“I’ll be there,” Raffe promised, grateful that he’d bothered to wear a clean T-shirt to his own wedding. Then, almost offhandedly, he added, “I got married this morning.”

The silence on the other end stretched, and he could almost feel her disbelief… and then, faintly, something like hope. “That will help,” she finally said, her voice quieter now, as if afraid to lean too heavily on the fragile rope of optimism. “I’ve already put the paperwork through for your emergency foster care approval.”

“Good.” He rubbed at the tightness in his forehead, trying to balance the thousand problems knotted together in his life. His undercover case. His new “wife.” And Freddy—the one problem he actually wanted to solve. Freddy, who deserved so much more than the hand life had dealt him.

“I’m on my way to the courthouse. Send me the courtroom details,” he said firmly, “and let the judge know there’s another option on the table. He doesn’t have to send Freddy back to that…house.”

Jenny hesitated, then asked, “Should I let him know what you do for a living?”

“Definitely not. There can’t be any record of me on the Minneapolis books.” He didn’t add the truth—that his role on the organized crime task force was deep undercover. If that came out, it would blow everything. “I’ll be there.”

“I’m on my way too,” Jenny said. “I’ll have a quiet word with the judge before the hearing.”

“Thanks.” His voice softened. “And, if you can, assure Freddy that I’m there. He needs to know someone’s fighting for him.”

“You know I will,” she replied, her words brightening just enough to remind him of the steel spine that had kept her from burning out long ago.

He knew the heavy burden she carried. Every case was a heartbreak, a choice between two or three bad options. Freddy wasn’t even the worst story on her caseload, but he was the kind that gnawed at you—the bright ones, the hopeful ones, the kids who still believed life could get better if someone just gave a damn.

And damn it, Raffe did.

Chapter 10

“He’s not following us anymore,” Mia announced, her voice carrying both relief and disappointment as she handed the box of chicken to her nonna.

“Follow him,” Evangeline ordered immediately, hugging the food close like a treasure. The heat seeped through the cardboard, warming her thin body. “After what you’ve told me about him, whatever’s going on in that man’s life, you need to know his secrets.” She lifted the lid and plucked out a crispy drumstick, her eyes glinting as she added with a snort, “We learned that the hard way, didn’t we?”

Mia pressed a finger to her lips, torn between common sense and the instinct drilled into her since birth. She should let Raffe go. He was a stranger. Granted, he was a stranger that she’d married. A stranger who clearly wasn’t the destitute wreck she’d thought he was. As Raffe’s rusted old truck growled out of the parking lot and back onto the road, Mia’s hesitation evaporated.

Her nonna was right.

She had to know.

He wasn’t a homeless man—not with that posture, and definitely not with that confidence in his stride. He was too tall, too strong, too… commanding. And she couldn’t live with more lies. Her whole life had been filled with secrets—her father’s, her family’s, even her own. Not this time. If she needed to annul the marriage, she’d do it. Then she’d get her grandmother on the next plane to Europe, and they’d disappear so her father and the corrupt courts could never find them.

“You’re right,” Mia said at last, determination filling her voice. She shifted into gear and eased into traffic, far more carefully than her “husband” had.

They’d noticed him following her before—his truck creeping behind her sedan almost as soon as she’d left the courthouse. She’d felt the weight of his eyes, even through the windshield. But now he’d changed direction, circling back. And that sudden turn…

“Why is he heading back toward the courthouse?” Mia murmured, narrowing her eyes as she watched the pickup merge into the turn lane.

Beside her, Evangeline tore into another piece of chicken, grease slicking her too-thin fingers. She dabbed delicately at her mouth with a napkin, looking more alive than she had in weeks. “Dunno,” she said, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of the chase. “But let’s find out.” She leaned toward her granddaughter, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “You married the man this morning, and now he’s heading back into the heart of the city again? Secrets, mia cara. Men always have them. Better we learn them first.”

Apparently, fried chicken wasn’t the only thing that brought her grandmother back to life—mischief did too.

Mia couldn’t help but grin as her nonna’s old spark returned.

They trailed him back into the city, watching as his truck swung into the courthouse lot again. When Mia parked, Evangeline was already muttering under her breath, swinging her legs toward the door. “Get me that damn wheelchair.”

“Nonna, you—”

“I don’t really need it,” Evangeline interrupted with a mischievous glint. “But I can’t walk fast enough to catch up with him, and I’m not gonna miss this. Besides”—she grinned wickedly—“it will get us through security faster. No one argues with an old lady in a wheelchair.”

Mia burst out laughing, delighted by her grandmother’s cunning. She hauled the heavy wheelchair out of the trunk, folding it open with practiced efficiency. Evangeline lowered herself into it like a queen taking her throne.

Then they were off. Mia nearly jogged, pushing her grandmother across the lot, weaving between cars to keep Raffe in sight.

They caught him just as he got caught stuck in the courthouse security line, cell phone pressed to his ear, his voice low and intense. Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed them. Perfect.