AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Or killed.
And I can’t afford to let slip anything about who I was or where I’m from. Because being dragged back to face Rio Agosti would likely kill me, body and soul.
I’ve betrayed the man I love. My husband. A monster.
But he’s coming for me; I feel it in my bones.
And even if I somehow survive the deadly punishment that I know he will mete out for my betrayal, I willnotallow my child to be brought up in that way of life.
I willdiebefore I hand over my baby to my husband.
* * *
My furnished one-bedapartment in Clark-Fulton is small and about as basic as it gets, but at least the space is clean, and the building occupants are quiet most of the time. The rent is cheap, and the landlord was willing to take advance payment for three months ahead. So, I know I have stability for a little while.
Stability, and a safe place where Rio has little chance of finding me.
Though my husband’s connections are extensive, I can’t imagine there’d be anything in this neighborhood that would warrant his attention and, if I keep my head down and don’t engage with other people, I should be safe enough. I hope.
The Feds are another matter. They’re probably looking for me too, not to arrest me but to use me to bring down Rio. I refuse to help them do that.
I may have run from him. I may be terrified of the consequences if he finds me. But he stole my heart, and I will never give him up in that way.
I used the fake ID that Carlos Rossi arranged for me to find this apartment and register at the nearby ob-gyn clinic only a couple of bus stops away. But everything else is on a cash-only basis, and I never leave home without my wig and contact lenses in place.
About a week ago, I saw someone hanging around as I came out of the apartment building, and he set my senses on alert. The guy didn’t look like one of my husband’s goons. He wasn’t suited up, and he didn’t have that hard, emotionless expression that I got used to back in Boston.
But there was something about him… The way he was simply loitering on the opposite side of the street with no purpose that I could discern. The speed with which he turned and began to walk away after I briefly met his gaze. But he didn’t look back, and once he disappeared around the corner, my spidey senses began to calm.
Just a random dude. Nothing to worry about. I haven’t seen him since, and I am beginning to feel slightly more settled, despite the aching loneliness.
I suppose I should feel guilty that I took the money and ID documents Carlos Rossi gave me to set up in Augusta. He said he had an apartment ready and a crew on the ground who were going to assist in establishing my new life there. Surprisingly, I don’t feel too much guilt.
Rossi may not have been the one pulling the trigger that day in Rio’s club when all those people died, but Anders, the man who led the attack, was Rossi’s right hand—hisconsiglierethey call it in that world.
Just like Danelli is Rio’s second. And as much as Rossi protested that he knew nothing about the attack on Rio, part of me doesn’t believe him. Danelli would never be able to do anything without Rio knowing about it.
So, Rossi is either a liar, or his hold on his family is loosening. And my understanding from the brief time I lived in that world is that either or both of those options are intensely dangerous.
Whether liar or weakling, Rossi’s hands are tainted with blood as much as any of them.
I want none of it. And one day, when my new life is fully established and I find a job, I intend to pay Rossi back. Anonymously, of course. But I do not want to be beholden to Rossi, any more than I do to Rio.
I’m doing this for my baby. A new life. A new start. Away from the long shadow of Mafia life—and death.
And even though I cry myself to sleep every night, craving Rio’s touch, his strength, his energy, no one else ever needs to know about that.
The next time I attend the obstetrics clinic, Nita is there in the waiting area. This time, she grins and pats the seat next to her as I enter. “Come sit with me, Aria. Let’s chat.”
My heart leaps. Other than a couple of neighbors who wave but don’t stop to speak, and the kid at the local grocery store where I get my food, I haven’t spoken with anyone since the last time I was here two weeks ago. The thought ofchatting, as Nita calls it, is both energizing and nerve-racking.
Don’t trust anyone. Don’t share anything that may get back to Rio.
Tentatively, I take the seat beside her. “Thanks, Nita. How are you feeling?”
I rub my expanding belly. I’m only just heading into my final trimester. Nita looks like she’s nearing the end of her pregnancy and shifts in her chair as if trying and failing to find a comfortable position.
I expect that will be me in another month or two.
