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“Hey, man, sorry. I figured you’d be busy.” Bently chuckled. “Was gonna leave a message. Just got an update. The man who attacked Charli was Angelo Ezzo.”
Whatever else Bently said went unheard as all the blood drained from Finn’s face. Flashes assaulted him—memories returning without the smoke to distort them. Angelo. The man from The Pearl Necklace. Stewart’s boss. He was the one who’d threatened his family . . . Charli!
The car jostled, fishtailing as Finn snapped out of it, steering away from the ditch. A plume of snow rained down on the windshield as thick branches cracked the glass. The seat belt pinched his waist as the car careened sideways before skidding to a stop.
“What was that? Are you okay?” Bently demanded.
“Charli’s in danger,” Finn said, slipping the car into reverse, only to hear the telltale sound of a wheel spinning without traction. “Fuck!” Panic seized his breath as he unbuckled, grabbing his phone. He pushed the weight of the door open and escaped.
“What—”
“Stewart works for Angelo. He— Listen, I’m almost home, but I have a bad feeling. Please, send help.” Finn ended the call and dialed Charli as he ran as fast as his limbs would take him. The cold wind did nothing to his already numb body. Adrenaline fueled his sprint as the phone rang and rang with no answer before her voicemail picked up.
Am I too late?
I never should have left her.
“Ahhhh!” he screamed, expelling precious air as tears of fear and rage and hopelessness blurred his vision. If only I could have remembered. I let that piece of shit in my house. I put her in danger.
The lights of his home came into view. Nothing looked amiss. But the anxious unease that twisted his belly into a thousand intricate knots and the tiny hairs standing on end all over his body told him different. No, he knew it in his soul—his wife was in danger. She needed him to protect her. And he would, even if it was the last thing he ever did.
“I’m coming, baby.”
Finn jogged up to the front door. Common sense told him to wait for Bently or search the windows first to assess the situation. But none of that could stop his hand reaching for the door handle or stepping in blindly. His wife and his son were in danger. Creeping inside, he quickly entering the code before the alarm sounded and sending out an SOS. He tucked himself against the wall as his ears perked up, his vision darting around the space. Muffled voices came from upstairs.
Finn surveyed the area before making his way to the kitchen, silently grabbing a knife and slipping it up his sleeve before padding quietly up the stairs. Instincts kicked in, most likely from his Army training.
The bedroom door was cracked open, and the sight before him sucked the air from his lungs. His stomach lurched, knees wobbling and threatening to give out.
Stewart smiled at him, holding a gun to his wife’s head. Charli’s tear-filled gaze flashed with relief only a moment before the fear returned.
“Nice to see ya, buddy,” Stew said.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Finn’s voice was low and deadly.
Stew straightened, pulling Charli off the bed and beside him. She winced as he pulled her hair tighter. “Cleaning up the mess my former general made so I can prove to the actual boss I’m ready for a promotion. It’s just business, Finnegan. Nothing personal.”
“Get your hands off her!” he roared.
Stew chuckled. “I told you this woman would be your ultimate downfall. Thought maybe with the whole memory problem we could make everything right.” Stew sighed. “But as usual, you fell for her pussy. What happened to bros over hoes, huh?”
Finn grit his teeth and clenched his fists, the weight of the knife against his arm only a small comfort. It would do him no good with that gun against his wife’s head. Finn needed to draw Stewart’s attention and rage towards him.
“Cops are on their way. Why don’t you put the gun down now, and I’ll only beat you to a pulp instead of killing you for putting your hands on my wife?” Finn threatened.
Charli squeaked, her eyes motioning to her side as her hand rested against the top drawer of the nightstand.
The gun.
Stewart smirked, his beady eyes narrowing. “Or I can put a bullet through the both of you and tell them how I walked in after a call from my delusional friend who killed his wife before taking his own life. After that head injury, things just weren’t right with you.”
The gun swung towards Finn. Staring down the barrel should have brought him overwhelming fear, but relief was the only thing that washed over him. Finn looked to Charli, trying to memorize the soft curves of her terrified face. There was no way they could both make it out of this alive. He’d wondered why he would survive just to have his memories stolen from him. Maybe this was why. Maybe he came back just so she and his son could live.
“You should have taken the deal and smuggled in the drugs for distribution in the bar. Angelo never would have had to use her to send a message. We could have shared laughs, extra cash lining our pockets, and celebrated with a lap dance at The Pearl Necklace. Instead, you’ve forced my hand,” Stew snarled.
“Why do they want anything to do with me?” Finn asked, keeping the attention on himself.
“They’re expanding up the seacoast from Boston. Your bar happens to be a key distribution center for the area and a great way to launder money. You could have made a killing. We could have been rich together. But no, you had to be all high and mighty as usual. Nobody turns down the Carelli family.” Stew’s laugh was dark and evil.
