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“Coffee would have been better,” Evan said, but he took the cup his sister pushed into his hand.
“You want caffeine, grab one of the energy drinks in the fridge.” She handed me a cup, and I accepted it with a tight smile. Concern darkened her beautiful face. “Are you hungry? Other than a few berries at First Bass, when was the last time you had something?”
“My stomach is a mess right now. The tea is enough, I promise.”
Sammy’s fingers were white around her own mug. “How long have you been feeling sick?”
I took a sip of my tea so I didn’t have to answer her. But the heat hurt my split lip, and I couldn’t help but whine at the sting. Hayat blew out a heavy breath, taking the mug from me and shoving the ice pack back into my hand. “She’s barely eaten all week.”
“She’s lost weight since she’s been home. I don’t think she’s gone for a run at all,” Ali informed her as she stirred honey into a mug. She took a drink to test the sweetness before passing it to Sixx.
Sending her a look that told her to mind her own business, I readjusted the cold compress.
Picking up the now-empty tray, Hayat turned toward the kitchen. “I’m going to heat up some soup.”
“And cheese quesadillas?” Evan called after her hopefully.
“Sure,” she muttered, sounding as tired as I felt.
Sammy picked up her phone, reading a new text. “The doctor will be here in a few minutes. Do you want to go up to your room for the exam?”
I glanced at Sixx, who had hand towels wrapped around his knuckles. Blood was starting to seep through the terry cloth. “Once Sixx has his hands cleaned up, I will consider letting the doctor examine me.”
“Abi,” she growled.
“Sammy,” I returned.
“Holy shit! She’s Samara Vitucci,” Bentley shouted as he rushed into the living room, holding out his phone like it was his turn for show-and-tell.
“Who?” Evan, Ali, and Sixx chorused in bewilderment.
“Samara Vitucci,” he repeated. “She’s Ryan Vitucci’s sister.”
He shoved his phone in my face, showing me a glamorous family photo. Cristiano, in an all-black suit, sat in a high-backed chair. Sammy, in a red dress, a rope of diamonds around her neck, sat on the right arm of the chair. A beautiful older woman, who had the same stunning blue eyes as Sammy stood on the left side of the chair, also dressed in red. There was a cool, lethal, yet regal aura to her that came through, even in a picture. It was easy to see that she was Sammy’s mother.
But what had my throat tightening with emotion was the man directly behind the chair. His short, dark hair. Those intense brown eyes. The way the expensive black suit fit so perfectly to his body.
Vaughn.
Not Vaughn.
Ryan.
At first glance, the resemblance between the two was startling. But when I blinked away the burn of tears, I easily saw the differences. My Vaughn was thicker in the shoulders. His eyes didn’t have the haunted glow to them Ryan’s did. Ryan’s nose wasn’t perfectly imperfect, but straighter, unmarred. Boring. I loved Vaughn’s nose. The shape of his lips and how one side of the upper V was ever so slightly higher than the other. The shape of his eyes. The sooty color of his thick lashes.
My heart clenched, a familiar ache ripping me apart inside.
Fuck, I missed him so much.
Bentley took the phone away. I met Sammy’s gaze and tensed, uncertain how she was going to react to whatever my idiot cousin might do next.
“Dude, we’re lost. Just tell us what that is and why you’re practically vibrating with excitement right now,” Evan told him.
“Vitucci is the biggest crime family in the country. They run everything,” Bentley explained, turning his phone so he could flip over the screen. “And I mean everything. There’s something here about them being responsible for the biggest coke pipeline. More than the cartel. Which that Lunatic guy that I saw tonight is supposedly a part of.”
Ali choked on her tea.
“Holy shit,” Evan wheezed.
