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Mine.
And now her father wanted me dead.
“Falcon,” Hawk’s voice snapped me back to reality. “What the hell happened? You need to tell me, now.”
But by the way, he looked at me—he already knew.
My mind raced, desperate to formulate a plan that would protect both Sophie and our unborn child. I couldn’t confess the truth to anybody—not yet. “I’ll handle it,” I muttered, evading his question.
“Falcon—” Hawk began, but I cut him off.
“Trust me.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue, echoing Fausto’s earlier false assurances. But this time, there was no deceit, only fierce determination. “I’ll handle it.”
I ended the call, my thoughts racing and my body pulsing with an overwhelming need to see her, touch her, and ensure her safety.
Damn the consequences.
She was mine, and now that she carried my child, there was no force in this world that would keep me from her.
“Whatever it takes,” I vowed, my resolve hardening. “I’m coming for you.”
And taking what was mine.
Mine.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE
“Ineed your help; can you meet me in an hour?”
The jet I’d chartered in Verona had just touched down seconds ago at JFK airport, and before we’d even left the taxiway, I had—despite the late hour—my childhood friend Vincenzo Salvini on the phone.
“Gabriele Falcone?” Vince’s voice, scratchy from sleep, reverberated through the line as if he’d smoked a pack of cigarettes before going to bed.
“Yes.”
“Dove sei?” His voice suddenly had an edge—fully alert.
“JFK,” I said. But my head was already making a mental to-do list of all that I needed to do.
“What? Why?”
“Meet me in an hour, and I’ll tell you.”
“Va bene!”
I ended the call, quenching the urgency that drove me borderline crazy.
With almost mechanical precision, I organized transportation and made sure the pilot and jet stood on standby to bring us back tomorrow.
One step after the other.
Taking charge of the practical things while I tried not to think about Sophie.
Pregnant.
The cloak of secrecy seemed fitting for a man who was about to enter the lair of the Irish Mafia in Boston.
My departure in Verona had been so sudden—a split-second decision, I didn’t have time to organize anything beforehand. Didn’t even tell my brothers where I was going.
