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Thanks, Felicity, for nothing, I think, swiping at my brow.
“Well, that was totally awks,” Angel says when I’m done, and I force out a laugh in response.
“It was a bit. And let me tell you, Angel, if youweretwenty-one, we would definitely be calling Penn back to her duty and handing off Emilia. I could do with a drink. I haven’t had one since I found out I was pregnant, but I could sure use one thanks to that damn woman.”
The rest of our outing is uneventful, but the initial joy in the excursion has fizzled out, for all of us, I think, based on the glum faces of the team, and we only make it as far as the Paul Revere House before Angel and I decide we’ve finally had enough, and Lee calls in the car to pick us up and head home.
I wonder which one of them will make it to Rio first to tell him about today’s run-in. My money is on Lee.
During the ride home, I have time to wonder what Rio’s response will be, and whether he’ll fling me straight back down into the dungeon and we’ll have to start rebuilding trust all over again.
I meant what I said to the agent. I’m determined not to betray my husband again, at least not knowingly. But in this world of deceit, fear, and violence, I can never fully promise anything because the playing field is never level, and it tilts and bucks on a daily basis.
I stroke Emilia’s soft dark hair as she sits placidly beside me in her car seat. She has fallen asleep, as she often does in the car, her dark lashes caressing her pink cheeks with the simple beauty of an innocent child. She is my only true constant. And I know, deep down, that if my daughter is ever under direct threat, by anyone, all bets will be off.
23
“The argument of danger only applies to those who live in relative safety.”
Graham Greene
Rio
It is barely duskwhen I return home from the club. The sun is lowering toward the horizon, and shadows lengthen over the estate as my car navigates the long driveway to the entrance of the main building.
One wouldn’t know, looking out on the landscaped gardens surrounding the building, and the neat expanse of grass that slopes away down toward the river, that there is a network of rooms beneath the estate. My father had them built as a safety net many years ago, but they hadn’t been brought into play until the attack by Anders’s men.
My sister greets me at the front door and accompanies me down to my underground office, walking jauntily beside me and clearly wanting to share something important.
She waits until I pour a whiskey from the side table and then sit behind my desk before she perches on the edge of the visitor’s chaise. She then proceeds to explain what happened during her outing with Bianca today.
My first instinct on hearing that agent’s name is to pull out my gun from its holstered place beneath my desk and shoot something.
How dare the Feds try a second time to entice my wife to betray me?
The need for violent action is almost overwhelming, but I manage to contain my rage and breathe calmly while my sister continues to talk. She seems unaware of how close I’ve just come to losing control, and for that, I’m grateful. She has been away at boarding school for much of her life, and as such has been sheltered from a lot of the violence that permeates our world.
But if Bianca ever says yes once again to helping the Feds, I will not be responsible for my actions. No matter who is sitting there watching me.
But she hasn’t, I remind myself over and over. Angel has just confirmed that my wife sent the agent on her way. Bianca didn’t say yes. She said no.
As soon as Angel leaves, I call in Danelli. He has been following up the various Antonios we had identified as possible saboteurs, and I need to know what he’s found out. There was another attack on one of our warehouses earlier today, and if I don’t regain the upper hand soon, I may as well put a bullet in my own head. Or hand the gun to my nearest rival and stand mute while they finish me off. The whole situation is out of control, and my reputation is hanging by a thread.
I’m beginning to wonder if we’ve been given the wrong information. What if Rossi is playing us all? What if he’s planted the notion of an Antonio, and it is someone else altogether? My skin is buzzing with the knowledge that something is off. I just can’t pinpoint what it is.
But first, I need to confirm my sister’s story. Angelica is still young and always believes the best of people. I need a more experienced viewpoint.
“You have spoken with the team who accompanied my wife on her outing today?”
“I had the Alpha team on them today. And yes, I have spoken with Leon.” His face remains calm, which begins to quiet my own inner beast. Clearly, there is nothing alarming to report. “I have requested Leon put the details into an email report for you, but there is nothing to be concerned about. The woman, Felicity, wanted to talk alone with your wife, but Bianca wouldn’t allow it. And from Leon’s summary, your wife made it crystal clear that the Feds won’t get any cooperation from her moving forward.”
“Good.” Thethingdeep inside me—the darkness that always threatens to rise when it senses danger—relaxes back into a state of watchfulness.
Bianca did well today. She will no doubt call me out for being patronizing when I tell her later, but I am proud of the woman she has become.
I lift my whiskey and take a sip, enjoying the smoky flavor for a moment before I change the subject. “Now. Antonio. The one at the wharf, and any others you’ve managed to find. What of them?”
“A dead end, Boss,” he confirms.
