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CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
Leo
“Mommy, Daddy, look, I’m doing it!”
I smile as little Rosie cycles up and down the lane in front of the house. The sunlight catches her black hair, making it glisten. People always say she has my hair or the hair I had before it began to turn silver. She has her mother’s eyes, though. She has Emma’s beautiful eyes. My heart swells with love as she keeps peddling.
“Careful,” I call over. “Just to the end of the street.”
I look over at my Emma, sitting in a summer dress under the parasol. She’s got one hand resting on her bump, her wedding and engagement rings shining up at me. Her smile is wide and genuine and beautiful. It tells me we made it against all the odds.
We did it.
“Can you believe this started with a kidnapping?” she whispers, smiling.
Then no, something terrible. The smile keeps spreading across her face, an evil expansion, wider and wider, and now teeth are sprouting from her mouth. They’re sharp and somehow mean, like a vampire.
“I’m nothing to you,” she says. “The kids are nothing. You wouldn’t leave us if we meant a single damn thing.”
I can’t look away. Even when I try to turn my head, I’m forced to stare at her expanding mouth with all those teeth. A claw rests on her pregnant belly now, not her beautiful hand. What if she digs those suddenly long fingernails in?
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Then wake up,” she says, “or there won’t be a wedding. There won’t be a Rosie. There won’t be any more babies. There won’t be anything.”
“But Rosa,” I whisper. “She’ll never forgive us.”
Emma stares, eyes turning red, mouth expanding wider and fiercer.
“She has to. She doesn’t have a choice. If you had to choose, Leo, you’d choose me. We both know it, and I’d choose you. We’re meant for each other. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.”
* * *
I peel my eyes open, wincing at the brightness.
“Shut the curtain,” Dario says. “Sorry, Leo. They’re cleaning the club. Lights on.”
Emma, I almost say.
“Rosa, Emma,” I say instead, remembering my daughter.
“They’re safe,” Dario replies.
I sigh, then sit up with an effort. We’re in the Edonismo office. I’m lying on the pull-out cot where I’ve slept more times than I care to think about, handling business when I’d prefer to be with my family and Rosa.
Dario sits beside me, forearms resting on his knees, staring at the floor. Behind him, a few of our men linger. Dario glances at them and nods. That’s all it takes. The men quickly leave the room. My little brother runs his hand through his hair, sighing darkly.
“What happened?” I ask.
“How much do you remember?”
“Getting the call from you. Learning the Bratva were making a move on the house. Riding out and then nothing.”
That’s not exactly true. A strange memory is clinging to me, something I can’t make sense of, Emma with red eyes and jagged teeth. Something else bright and hopeful makes my heart soar: wheels, a bike, a daughter, another daughter. The dream slams into me, lighting me up. Suddenly, I wish I was back there.
“You got shot with a high-caliber weapon. Goddamn miracle you didn’t break any ribs when it slammed into your bulletproof vest. When you hit the car, you fell to the ground and hit your head.”
“Where are the girls?” I ask.
