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“Why not?” Valentina shot back.
When her father raised an eye brow at her tone, she backpedaled quickly.
“It’s just that Uncle Pauli and I have gotten into a routine,” Valentina explained quickly.
And boy had they.
Valentina mentally shook her head and thought back to the chain of events that had landed her in this predicament in the first place. In the initial stages of her recovery, Valentina had been fearful to even leave the house. Once she had worked through that terror, her father had been adamant about her not getting behind the wheel of a car. Despite her many, many,manypleas and reassurances, her father had remained steadfast in his resolve. Valentina knew that if she was ever going to lead even a semi-normal life again she would have to consent to a driver.
At least for a while.
So, Gianni had entrusted Valentina into Pauli’s hands.
It was an arrangement that had made them both completely miserable.
And had lasted about two weeks.
Pauli had paced and growled liked a caged tiger, waiting around for her while she made dough rise in the early hours of the morning, and Valentina had resented being carted around like a baby. Finally, after countless hours of shared misery, they came to a mutually beneficial and secret agreement. With a firm promise that she would pull the car over at the slightest inclination of any warning signs of panic, they hatched a plan. Pauli would pick Valentina up bright and early in the morning as usual. Then the two partners in crime would proceed merrily off to the nearest Off-Track Betting establishment where Valentina would drop Pauli off . There he’d enjoyed a leisurely day while placing bets, poring over racing forms, and otherwise indulging in his fondest passion. On her part, Valentina would drive on to the bakery. Once she fulfilled her commitment there, she would have the rest of the day to enjoy her independence while sitting behind the wheel of a classic, powder blue 1969 Cadillac Deville.
The idea that the arrangement might come to a screeching halt left Valentina cold.
“Wehavegotten into a routine, haven’t we Uncle Pauli?” Valentina called on him for support.
When Pauli did not meet her eye but instead mumbled something unintelligible, Valentina’s heart took a deep dive. Her concern was more for Uncle Pauli than for herself, because if they had been found out, it would not go well for her but it would be much worse for Pauli.
“Pauli will be accompanying me to Italy. Surely, no matter how important thisroutineis, you would not want to deny your uncle the pleasure of visiting his family,” Gianni said dryly.
“Oh.” Valentina was immediately flooded with relief. “No, of course not!”
Valentina thought fast. With her father, Audrina, and Pauli gone, that would put Anthony in charge of security and leave the crew short two men. They would not have the manpower to chauffeur her around, and she knew that her father would not expect her to stay at home all the time.
Finally!
In the back of her mind, Valentina had been marking off the weeks and months on her internal calendar. No matter how much her pulse still raced at times or how often the panicked heartbeats rose to her throat, she had worked hard to appear composed, strong, and in control.
It seemed now that all her hard work had paid off, because despite the minor setback of a few days ago, she would finally be sprung free from the constant vigilance.
Sweet,sweetfreedom was within her grasp.
And it was a good thing too, because Valentina had things to do.
It was just past midnight when a surprised Hal found himself knocking on Prosper Worthington’s door. It was a rare occasion that a member of the club was called to the Worthington personal residence. Unless it was life or death, the boss’s house was off limits to the club. As Hal understood it, that was Pinky’s one and only hard and fast rule when she had married Prosper. She had passed an edict that their home be respected and kept as a sanctuary for the two of them and their immediate family. Prosper had done his best to keep to that deal.
Hal knew that the so-calledhouse banhad been lifted many times over the years, but it was also clear that it happened only under the most special of circumstances, and to address the most private of matters.
So, for Hal to find himself called to the residence, was odd to say the least. Especially at this time of night. But despite the strange circumstances of time and place, of course Hal didn’t hesitate and had asked no questions when called in. Wearing the patch meant you were available to the club 24/7. The boss wasn’t a dick about it either and never abused that ask—which made this summons all the more curious in Hal’s eyes.
Prosper’s house was an imposing structure that situated itself on the side of a ledge-covered hill. While the design of the dwelling appeared deceptively simple with sleek lines and steep angles, the home was made of steel and stone construction. With its thick gleaming windows —made bullet proof and raised high by design—it was an impenetrable fortress disguised as an upscale home. Hal knew all of this because in the corps he had been a member of a Marine Special Forces unit called MARSOC. Within that unit, he had been the expert in TS (Tech Surveillance) and security. After the shootout at the compound, Hal had been called upon by the club to use his knowledge for updating the security at the compound and to do some work at Prosper’s private residence as well.
“Hey Sweetie, come on in.” Pinky greeted Hal with a kiss on the cheek. “They’re in the office. I was just about to bring in a tray of cookies and coffee. There’s beer in the bar fridge. Is that okay or do you want something else?”
Hal raised an eyebrow at the wordthey.
Pinky cast a furtive look at the closed door and whispered, “Gianni Abruzzi has been here for over an hour.”
“Thanks for the heads up, sweetheart.” Hal gave her a conspiratorial grin.
Pinky sure was something. Get on her right side and there was nothing she wouldn’t do for you— get on her wrong side and she was done with you. Which meant pretty much thatyouwere done—dead to the club. But to be fair, only a real asshole would cross that line. Pinky had a huge heart, a welcoming smile, and now in her early fifties, she was still as pretty as a summer morning. She was also the perfect old lady— middle of the damn night, and here she was all gussied up and serving coffee and cookies like it was a Sunday afternoon social.
