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“No. I have to stand my ground here. Alongside my brother and the friends I’m in business with.”
Nodding, I bite my lip. “And that could mean what? That you’ll get shot? Or worse?”
He holds out his hand, and I set mine in it. His fingers close around my hand.
“Liam, please tell me the truth. Not knowing things makes them even scarier.”
“You don’t need details. Just know I’m going to do whatever it takes to protect you.” I shrug. “If there’s a war, I intend to win. And no matter what happens, you don’t need to worry. Your future is covered. I’ve made arrangements. If anything happens to me, everything I have goes to you and the kids. Aiden or Luke will help you relocate to wherever you want. And they’ll be there for you and the kids whenever you need something.”
Tears well up in my eyes and spill over my lashes.
“Shit.” He pulls off the highway and turns onto a side street. The security truck that’s following pulls up behind us.
Liam walks around the car and opens the door. When I climb out, he pulls me against him and holds on to me. “Come on, sweetheart, don’t cry. You’re going to make Aiden think something’s wrong with the baby.”
I bury my face in his shirt, inhaling the clean masculine smell of his soap, and let myself cry for a minute.
“Baby doll,” he says in a low voice. “You’re making me feel bad for telling you.”
I kiss his neck. “I love you, and if we lost you, I don’t think I could stand it.”
“Hey,” he whispers, kissing my forehead and rubbing my back. “The estate planning is just a contingency plan. Like having car insurance I never use.” He hugs me tighter. “With you, I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I plan to see our kids grow up and have their own kids. Playing a long game is one of my strengths, so in my head, I’m working on my seventy-year plan. You and me, together for seven decades, how does that sound?”
“Perfect. Promise me,” I whisper against his throat.
“I promise.”
CHAPTER21
LIAM
Even the most meticulous planning can’t account for the unpredictability of human behavior. And in a world of killers and gangsters, putting too much faith in friends can be as dangerous as facing an enemy.
Water laps over the rocks as I’m walked to the end of a dock with my hands cuffed behind me. My left eye is nearly swollen shut. Not a hundred percent to plan, this.
One of Joe Sullivan’s lieutenants, a man I’ve worked with on several occasions, walks me down the long pier. We don’t speak. There’s nothing left to say. Next to him is one of the Di Luccio foot soldiers, young and brash. And violent and vicious. He has a taste for meth and pretty young girls, and when he made threats I’d be happy to kill him for, I couldn’t resist saying so. Hence, the black eye.
Fog rolls in from the ocean, swirling in misty clouds that cut off the horizon. The moon, full and white, fights to illuminate the waterfront. The boat at the end of the pier comes slowly into view, bobbing on dark water. My muscles contract in anticipation.
Am I about to face Donato Di Luccio? He’s been in hiding, locked down someplace outside Boston while in secret talks with Joe Sullivan. I frown. I wanted the Di Luccio family cut out of all Irish Mafia operations. Joe pointed out they still controlled valuable assets. He wanted to know what I would offer to compensate the Sullivans for cutting out the Di Luccios. That’s just business. I knew what he wanted. The same thing he’s always wanted. For me to come into the Sullivan family fold as someone who pledges unconditional loyalty to him. My answer to that was again,no.
Donato appears from the fog on an old thirty-footer. His jet black hair gleams like it's been waxed, and his Roman nose casts a long shadow like an evil caricature.
“Joe and I are old men now,” Donato says as the boat floats to the dock. “The children and grandchildren we have now are all we’ll have to the end of our lives. He’s got a beloved daughter. And a grandson he would kill for. He understands what you’ve taken from me.”
The smell of salt and fish saturates the air. The water is black as pitch, revealing no shadows despite the spotlight that’s now shining on the dock, on me.
“It helps that you’ve got deep pockets that you emptied for him. That must hurt,” I say.
“Not as much as your face. And you can blame that on yourself, too, Liam. When you kill off a man’s heirs, what does he have to use his money for other than revenge?”
That menacing thought raises hair on my arms.
“I didn’t start this. First, all the lies. Then Francesca swore she’d kill Olivia. Shooting me… all right. But Liv’s innocent, which Frankie knew.”
“Frankie had a fiery Italian temper in all its glory, and you snuffed it out.”
“Couldn’t be helped. Young or old, every man has a right to protect the woman he wants forever.”
