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ChapterTwenty-Eight
LORENZO
My mouth is dry, my chest heavy and tight. Last night at the piano was a huge mistake. I shouldn’t have played for Mia, but she has me under some kind of spell. She’s gotten too close. I feel her beneath my skin, creeping through my veins and forcing her way into my heart. That’s what I said to her in Italian. How much I need her. How I can’t go a single minute without thinking of her. And when she asked me what I said—how could I tell her the truth? Whatever’s between us must come to an end before it goes any further than it already has. Before I lose what’s left of my goddamn mind.
And then she called me Sir this morning. The word burned me, seared my soul. So many emotions boiled up inside of me, not all of them unpleasant.
No matter how good it felt or how natural the word sounded falling from her lips, I can’t be that for her. And I was clear with her about that, yet she pushed me on it anyway. What the fuck did she expect me to do?
My neck and shoulders ache with tension. I slept on the sofa again last night, too stubborn and possibly too afraid to go upstairs because then I would have had to pass her room, and I might not have had the strength to walk on by. Maybe I would have let her curl up on my chest and fallen asleep right next to her.
My phone rings and I focus on the screen, thankful for the distraction. I sure hope Lionel has something useful for me—something that might take my mind off the siren down the hall.
Answering the call, I wait for some good news.
“I still can’t get access to them records, Lorenzo,” Lionel says with a sigh. “I even tried my old buddy at the bureau.”
“You called me to tell me you have nothing?” I snap, taking the opportunity to direct my frustration at him.
“I called to tell you I’m out of options. And if my contact at the bureau can’t help, this mess involves someone high up with deep pockets and a lot of strings to pull.”
“Fuck!” The intel on Brad isn’t essential to me, but I still want to know what the fuck I’m dealing with. I hate not being able to get the information that’s certainly out there but out of my reach. It’s not a situation I encounter often.
“I know this isn’t how things usually play out for you,” Lionel says as though reading my mind, “but this is the United States government. It’s gonna take someone with a lot more firepower than me to get what you need. Maybe that girl not being found is a good thing, huh? Who knows what hell she went through that put her where she is?”
Looking up at the ceiling, I consider his words. Dammit, he’s not wrong. No good can come from dredging up the past for her. But I don’t fucking care. It might make me more of an asshole than even I thought, but Mia’s safety is tantamount. “I have no interest in making her life difficult, Li, but I want to know what that sick fuck is hiding.”
“I hear ya, I do. But my hands are tied. I do have some good news for ya, though. Your guy left the country.”
“To go where?”
“Got himself a one-way ticket to Panama. Had a buddy of mine keep tabs on him and his passport pinged last night.”
The knot in my shoulder throbs, and I tilt my head to stretch it out. “Doesn’t mean he won’t be back.”
“Well, I’ll let ya know when he comes back.”
As we end the call, I mentally sift through my list of contacts, wondering who has the necessary pull to get their hands on those sealed records. If I utilize any of the obvious choices, I’ll have to explain to Dante what I’ve been doing. I guess that’s not such a big deal now that he knows about Mia and me.
I’m setting my phone back on my desk when Dante walks into the room, and the look on his face makes me wish I wasn’t here. How many more problems want to fuck up my day?
“What is it?” I ask him with a sigh.
“Did you know Mia wants to leave?”
A wave of fresh guilt tinged with intense rage washes over me, stealing the breath from my lungs. I sit up straighter in my chair and take a second to compose myself, hoping my younger brother doesn’t see how much his news affects me. “She what?”
His eyes narrow with suspicion as he takes a seat opposite me. “She said it’s time to move on. Asked for a new ID to start fresh.”
My hands ball into fists by my sides, and I grind my teeth so hard I figure they’re about to turn into dust.
“I figured you must know something about it, seeing as how you and she are so”—he arches an eyebrow—“close.”
“I knew nothing about it,” I admit through gritted teeth.
“You want me to tell her I can’t do it?”
Closing my eyes, I will myself to calm down. The blood rushing in my ears is so fucking loud that I can’t hear my thoughts. Through my panic, Dante’s words hit me, and I’m overwhelmed with love for my brother. He really would do that for me; he’d keep her prisoner here if I asked him to, no matter how much it might piss off his wife.
