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He whirls around, snarling when the door behind us begins to open. “Boss?” the guard asks. “Sorry, somebody out here said you’re expecting him?”
“Sure, have them come in.” Rocco stands, buttoning his charcoal suit jacket. “He’s right on schedule. We’re going to go over the finer points of the plan.”
I turn my head more out of reflex than anything else. When somebody comes into a room, you look at them. Even when it’s becoming increasingly clear you’re in the final moments of your life, your body does things the way it would if everything were normal.
However, there is absolutely nothing normal about the presence of the man who enters Rocco’s study and offers a sad grin when our eyes meet.
This is Rocco’s inside man?
“Craig?” I whisper in horror before the world tilts, and my knees give out.
22
LUCA
As soon as she begins to fall, I lunge, catching her and holding her close, almost cradling her against me. They want to kill her.
She isn’t worried about that now. “My partner,” she whispers, staring at the tall, sandy-haired guy like she’s seen a ghost. “He’s my partner.”
“Sorry, kid.” He manages to sound sorrowful as he slides his hands into his coat pockets. “I tried to tell you to stay away from the club, didn’t I? You should’ve listened.”
Her mouth moves soundlessly for a few seconds before her eyes narrow to slits, and a guttural cry tears its way out of her chest. “You bastard! You fucking prick! All this fucking time, you were working for them? Pretending we were going to build a case?”
“Having kids isn’t cheap.” That’s as much as he’ll say, and there’s nothing but frank honesty behind his statement. He’s not trying to defend himself. He’s stating the facts as he sees them.
My father clears his throat. “Enough. Let’s get back to business.” His booming voice silences everyone into obedience.
I help Emilia back to her feet and make sure she’s steady, though I can’t imagine how she’s managing it. She has strength beyond what she revealed back at the cabin. The woman is made of steel. “Let’s talk next steps,” Papa continues. “Craig here saw to it that Luca’s car was towed from the safe house. He was careful to wipe the place for any prints.”
“I lifted prints from the bodies and placed them around the cabin,” Craig explains. “A few here and there, as if they wore gloves most of the time. Enough to establish their presence.”
Papa folds his hands on the desk. “So, this is the story. Vitali had Detective Washington kidnapped and taken to the house. There’s no legal record of it belonging to our family. The crew kept her there until Craig tracked her location and, during a shootout, killed her captors and rescued her.”
He lifts his shoulders in a parody of a shrug. “Unfortunately, Emilia was killed in the crossfire when she attempted to flee. She bled all over the place in front of the cabin.”
“The doctor treated my wound,” she blurts out, hoping it makes a difference. Her voice trembles, but she wears a mask of determination to be brave to the very end. It’s like she’s pulled the loose thread that will make the entire plan fall to pieces. My heart squeezes at her courage as an unyielding anger grips my throat.
Papa might as well yawn. He’s that unbothered by her comment, choosing to glare at Dante instead.
“We can work around that,” Dante insists.
Rage leaves me shaking and biting my tongue. Dante would love nothing more than for me to fall apart and drive the final nail into Emilia’s coffin. But I won’t let that happen. Once I can trust myself, I mutter, “You have everything figured out.” I look around again, seeking sympathy. It’s clear Niccolo is on my side, and even Francesco looks as if he wishes he wasn’t here. One of them might speak up for Emilia, but that would be too much to ask. “What about me? What about what she means to me?” I argue, grasping at what I can.
A brief flash of something like concern washes across Papa’s lined face, but it blows away quickly. “We’ll work that out too. Time heals everything.”
I watch in shock as he gestures for Cesco to take her. This can’t be happening. My own family would not betray me this way. My father would not ignore what I need. “Don’t you fucking touch her,” I warn, snarling at my cousin once he begins his approach.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Papa asks in a menacing tone.
I launch in front of her, shaking my head at my cousin. “You’re not taking her. Nobody is. Get the fuck away.”
“Look at yourself,” Dante counters, waving an arm toward us. “Look at what she’s already done to you. She’s a fucking liability, and you know it. Even if she wasn’t a cop, which she is, she has fucked with your head.”
Panic has begun bubbling in my gut, and now it’s flooding my chest. Soon, it will fill my throat until I can’t speak, so the words pour out of me in a rush. “She didn’t know the fallout of what she saw at the club. I drew her into our family, and she shouldn’t have to die for that. That shits on me, and I’m not going to let you kill her.” I look at my father, who is silently absorbing this. “Papa. If you want her, you’ll have to go through me first because I fucking love her.” Her soft gasp rings out in my ears and makes me wish I had told her first.
Alone, in private, as she deserves.
Yet another regret.
