Page 65 of Daddies of the Underworld

I tightened my grip on the bag and turned toward home, my thoughts making their usual trek around which direction I should drive. I had a used car that I rarely bothered to take out of the parking lot, but I did so often enough to keep it serviceable and running. It would get us through several states at least.

Milwaukee was too close. St. Louis had buses and motels cheap enough if I didn’t mind questionable carpet and the strong possibility of bed bugs. I’d found that out two years ago.

Indianapolis might work for a week or two.

Maybe it was time to abandon the big cities and hit the country. A person could disappear in the wilds of Montana too.

I could get us out tonight if I had to. That might be better. Let Sofia sleep through the night while I drove. Fewer questions that way.

A dark car rolled past the corner, and I slowed. Not the same car from yesterday. Different make and plates, though I couldn’t read them well through the dirty slush. It kept going, and I let out a relieved breath. Normal women did not mentally plan three different escape routes while carrying peanut butter.

Then again, normal women didn’t have to run from three powerful men who had made her feel safe and then terrified for her life all in the same day.

I crossed the street and doubled back through the laundromat, pretending to check the change machine.

By the time I reached our building, my fingers ached from the grocery bag and my nerves sparked a constant frenzy. Sofia was across the hall with Mrs. Whitaker, cutting paper snowflakes and probably getting enough lemon drops that she’d ruin her supper. I let it slide this time. Sofia only spent an hour every few weeks with the older woman, and never the same day of the week or same time. I’d almost taken Sofia with me, but the crawling sensation had gotten so bad I’d started scratching.

She was safer here, behind Mrs. Whitaker’s locked door. She’d sent Sofia home exactly five minutes after I unlocked my door. We’d agreed on that, no questions asked.

The door stuck, and I shoved it with my shoulder, catching the bag before the bottom tore. Home sweet questionable building code violation.

I climbed the steps, counting to pass the time until they spit me out on my floor. With seconds, I’d put my key in the lock. I checked that the tiny strip of tape was undisturbed and there were no marks around the keyhole. Once I’d verified, I twisted, nudging the door open with my hip and stepping through, closing the door behind me.

“Hello, Nina.” A strong hand slid behind my head, pressing the door shut.

The grocery bag dropped from my hand. Bread hit the floor, then the apples. They rolled, one of them spinning end over glossy red end until it bumped against a polished black shoe.

Italian leather. My throat went dry as I tracked the foot up to a pair of black trousers, then a dark coat. No. I squeezed my eyes shut. “No. You’re not really here. This is a dream.”

“Do you dream about us often?” Luca’s voice was in my ear, his arm behind my head. “I swear on my own life we are not here to hurt you. Please don’t run away.”

It was the broken sound in his voice that snapped me out of my stupor. My eyes flew open, and I took one gulping breath, my hand going to my pocket where I kept the knife.

Matteo Moretti was standing in my living room. Dante stood near the window, hands by his sides and body coiled tense as a spring. God he was gaunt. I’d never thought to use that word to describe any of them, but it fit Matteo as well. No, not quite. Matteo looked hollow. Like his heart had been scooped out and left to shrivel. I backed into the door and held the knife in front of me. “How did you get in?”

“Your lock is shit.” Dante’s voice ground out with the same harshness as a train going over the tracks. I’d only lasted a week in the house where I heard the train every night. It had reminded me too much of them.

Matteo eyed the knife. “We are not here to hurt you.”

“Then why are you here?” My voice went shrill, and I winced. “You can’t be here. Sofia is coming home.” Literally any second. I banked on them thinking Sofia was a roommate.

“We know.” Luca nudged me in the back, and you need to move away from the door. “We need to talk.”

“No.” I kept saying that, even though I had a million questions of my own hammering for release.

Matteo took a step forward, that calm control I’d always admired on full display. “Yes. You are going to tell us why you ran away. Why you took our daughter with you.”

“Fuck.” Dante dragged a hand down his face.

Luca guided me further into the room. “This isn’t how we planned things. But if everyone can remain calm, we’ll figure it out.”

“Calm? You want me to remain calm?” I pointed the knife at Matteo. “How about you tell me why the fuck you snuck into my apartment. Tell me how you found me in the first place. And tell me what the hell you want with Sofia?” A chilling thought numbed my body. “If you’re here to take her away from me, you’ll have to kill me first.”

“No one is dying.” Matteo said it with such vehemence his face reddened.

I’d never seen that much emotion from him in my life. It was enough to stop me from advancing on him with the knife pointed at his heart. It wouldn’t do much damage. Hell, he’d probably knock it from my grasp before I made two more steps. I’d tried to keep working on my self-defense, but YouTube videos could only teach me so much. I swallowed hard and worked to regain my sense of fear instead of letting the way they looked at me convince me they truly meant no harm. “You don’t know what it means to keep someone safe.”

Matteo took a step toward me, right into the tip of the knife. It pinched the material of his coat but didn’t penetrate. Even so, he met and held my gaze. “We know you kept her hidden. You kept her from us. We would know why. What made you leave us, Nina?”