Page 117 of Blood Vows

Marco glanced at her. “Yeah, she’s alive for now.”

Valentina frowned at him. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said about me.”

The man ignored her. “Bring her to the estate.”

“No.” Valentina looked at Marco, and the man on the other end of the call went silent.

“What did you just say?” he asked.

“I’m not bringing her anywhere predictable, Luca,” Marco said. She had only met Luca Camorra once, but he seemed like the type of man that no one said no to.

“It’s secure,” Luca insisted.

“So was the safehouse,” Marco countered.

Luca’s voice hardened. “You think we have a leak?” he asked.

Marco’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. “I know we have a leak.” Valentina’s stomach twisted. Someone inside the Camorra family, someone who knew where she was, also knew enough to send armed men after her before Marco could even question her.

Luca said, “Where are you going?”

“I’m not telling you over the phone,” Marco said.

There was a pause, and Valentina was sure that Luca was about to chew Marco out for disobeying him again, but he didn’t. “Good, call when you land somewhere safe.” Marco disconnected the call.

Valentina stared at him. “You didn’t tell the head of your family where you’re taking me.”

“No, I didn’t,” he said.

“Should I be concerned?” she asked.

“Yes.” Marco glanced over at her. “But not about me.” That should not have been reassuring, but it was. Valentina looked out the window. Queens slid past in flashes of streetlights and closed storefronts. She had no idea where they were going, no idea who had tried to take her earlier, no idea who had just shot up a Camorra safehouse, and no idea why the encryption on her father’s ledger belonged to Marco. That thought hit harder now that there were no bullets distracting her.

Valentina pressed her hands into her lap. Her father had been dead for six years. She had spent six years sorting through the pieces he left behind--bank statements, old contracts, boxes she couldn’t bring herself to throw away, and a safe-deposit box she hadn’t even known existed until an attorney contacted her three weeks ago. And inside sat a ledger and a thumb drive that didn’t belong to her father. Except apparently, they did—or someone wanted her to believe they did.

Marco looked over at her. “You’re awfully quiet.”

She frowned. “I’m thinking.”

“Should I be worried now?” he asked. She gave him a look, and he almost smiled again.

Valentina turned toward him. “Did you know my father?”

Marco’s amusement disappeared. “No.”

“You hesitated when I asked you that before,” she reminded.

“I was considering the possibility that I had met him, and just didn’t remember,” Marco said.

“And did you remember anything?” she asked.

“No,” he breathed. “I didn’t.”

“My father’s name was Gabriel Russo,” she said. Marco’s fingers tightened on the wheel, and she noticed his reaction. It was tiny, but real. “You know the name, don’t you?” she asked.

“I’ve heard it,” he admitted.

Her heart kicked. “Where?”