by Sienna Blake
He grimaced. “When you put it that way, it doesn’t sound very smart.”
I rolled my eyes. “Understatement of the century.”
“Okay, I was an idiot.”
“About so many things.”
He tugged me closer so I was sprawled over his body, his warm, hard body under the length of mine causing the lick of desire to rush through me. I could feel him stirring against my hip. “It probably won’t be the last time I act like a fool.”
“Are you telling me that I better get used to it?”
“How long are you planning to stick around?”
I shrugged. “Just for always or so.”
His fingers tightened around me. “Always?”
“Always.” I brushed my nose against his as we made a cave with our breaths and sighed happily as the world was shut out for just a little longer. “I don’t want to live without you. I tried but I can’t. I’m done trying,” I said, repeating words he once said to me.
He let out a low growl and kissed me with an intensity that told me he wanted “always” too. Before I could deepen the kiss, he pulled back and gave me a sad smile. “It’s a beautiful dream. But it’s just a dream, Jules. You’re still a detective. I’m still a Tyrell.”
“What if it didn’t have to be?”
He flinched. “What do you mean?”
“Remember when you asked me if I wanted to run away to Paris with you?”
He licked his lips. And nodded.
“Does that offer still stand?”
His eyes widened. He opened his mouth, then closed it. For once, Roman Tyrell was speechless.
Was he trying to figure out a way to let me down gently? I sniffed. “It’s not that hard a question, Roman.”
He shook his head, still looking dazed. “That offer was never retracted. But Jules, your career, your father…” All the reasons why I told him I couldn’t leave Verona.
“My career is over. I just lied to the chief of police about witnessing a shooting. And,” I tried not to let the bitterness show in my voice, but I failed, “it turns out that my father is not the man I thought he was.”
Roman tucked me against his chest, his hand stroking my hair. I found myself softening against his solid, hard warmth. “I’m sorry. It’s hard when fathers fail us.”
He hadn’t answered my question. I pulled back to look at him. “So…?”
“It would mean a life on the run. It would mean leaving everything behind.”
“It would mean being with you. Really being with you. Walking down the street together, holding hands, kissing in public.”
“You’d never be able to come back, to see your father or Nora again.”
I paused. My heart squeezed. “Nora will understand.”
“And your father?”
I gritted my teeth. “He won’t. But that’s not my problem.”
Roman shifted under me, his features pensive. “I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I know what I’m getting myself into,” I said firmly. I had never been so sure of anything in my life. Paris, with Roman. Hell, I’d go anywhere as long as he was with me.
A small, slow smile crawled across his face. “Okay.”
Our mouths crashed together. In my heart, there was this warm feeling of certainty that I had come home.
“Wait.” He pulled back as my greedy hands wandered down his body. “We have a lot to plan.”
“Later,” I said, pushing him onto his back and sliding down on his length.
* * *
I could have stayed with Roman all day. Father Laurence had told us we wouldn’t be disturbed there. Later, once we were long gone, we would have more than enough time for lazy days in bed.
We agreed to leave Verona together after Mercutio’s funeral that afternoon at another church. We’d take out all the cash we had access to, then leave in my car, ditching it for another once we were out of town. Then we’d hole up in a motel in a nearby town while Roman’s contact worked on getting us fake passports so we could leave the country without being detected. The rest we’d figure out as we went.
I watched Roman slipping on his dark t-shirt, apprehension coiling in my belly. Now that we’d decided to do this, I didn’t want him to leave my sight. What if his father found him? What if my father caught him? “Do you want me to come with you?”
“No. It’s too dangerous for us to risk being seen together.”
I chewed my lip, my stomach doing flips despite his reassurances. “I’ll go crazy just sitting here waiting for you. I’ll go home, get clothes, say goodbye to Nora.”
He caught sight of my face as he slipped on his shoes. He grabbed the back of my head and pulled me against him. “Don’t worry,” he mumbled against my hair, “I won’t let anyone see me.” He kissed me long and deep.
I gripped his shirt, not ready to let him out of my sight. “Promise me you’ll come back?”
“I promise.”
19
____________
Roman
I watched Mercutio’s funeral from afar, cowering behind an old oak tree. It was held at the small Catholic church that Nonna went to every Sunday, the Church of St. Michael. She used to make Mercutio and me go with her when we were boys. As we got older it became harder for us to sit still long enough for her to wrangle us into our Sunday best.
The small chapel on the grounds was unassuming, a simple rectangular design with a copper bell hanging from the bell tower. The tombstones here were like small, simple, mismatched teeth across a threadbare lawn, Mercutio’s grave sitting open and fresh like a cavity.
I should be the one in the ground. What kind of person did it make me to take happiness from being alive when he was dead? What kind of person did it make me to take shelter in the arms of the woman I loved when the ones he loved paled with his loss? I would return to Julianna and Nonna would return to an empty house.
There was a cluster of mourners around his gravesite. Nonna was among them, her soft, trembling body shaking with grief. She cried as the priest spoke. She wailed as the coffin was lowered into the cold ground.
I wanted to go to her. To wrap my arms around her shaking shoulders. I wanted to howl alongside her and beat my fists at the ground. I wanted to throw my wretched self at her feet and beg for her forgiveness, forgiveness I didn’t deserve.
But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to cause her any more pain than I already had. I stayed where I was, letting this hurricane wreck the insides of me.
If only I could turn back time, Nonna. I’d have gladly taken that bullet meant for me. He shouldn’t have tried to save me, damn him, but he was just too good a man to let me die. He was too good for this world so the angels took him. He belonged with them now.
When it was all over Nonna collapsed in her exhausted state, moaning, held up by her friends and neighbors that I’d met over the years. The crowd dispersed, one by one, like black chess pieces off a board. Then there was no one left except Mercutio, lying alone in the cold, cold dirt.
I remained frozen in my hiding spot.
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a figure walking towards the grave from between the headstones. A man in a gray suit with a cane in one hand. I squinted through the light, misty rain that had begun to fall. I knew that walk, that swagger.
That was Mercutio’s father. Tito Brevio.
Goldfish.
I was told once by my father that the Chinese have the same character for crisis and opportunity. I don’t think I’d truly understood why until now. My grief fell below the surface as this opportunity rose like an oil slick. I would find out who Goldfish was working for. I was no longer helpless and aimless. I grabbed this reprieve from sorrow and ran with it.
I snuck up behind him, ducking from gravestone to gravestone as silently as I could, as Goldfish came to stand at the base of Mercutio’s grave.
“Ah, son,” I heard Goldfish say, his deep voice weighed down by what sounded like pity. “
You were such a good boy. Such a good boy. You still ended up here.”
I grabbed Tito’s shoulder and swung the man around. His cane came for me. I ducked aside, grabbed his wrist and spun him around with his arm twisted around his back. He let out a small wail and dropped his cane into the damp grass.
“Mr. Brevio,” I said in a low voice. “It’s been a long time.”
Goldfish flinched. He looked over his shoulder at me, his graying eyebrows drawing together when he recognized me. “Roman Tyrell,” he spat out my name like it was bitter. “What do you want?”
“I just want to talk.”
“Yeah? Well I don’t talk well when I’m being held against my will.”
I leaned in to Tito’s ear. “Try to run and I’ll blow your kneecaps off.”
“I don’t doubt it, son.”
I let go of him and he scrambled to get some distance from me. He cleared his throat, composing himself as he brushed down his suit and straightened his silver tie. “I heard you were back.”
I picked up his fallen cane. He held out his hand for it.
I flicked the head of the cane. A blade came out of the end. I raised an eyebrow at him. “I think I’ll hang on to this until you’ve answered my question.” I flicked his weapon closed and gripped it in my left hand.
Goldfish gave the cane one more yearnful glance before focusing on me. “What question would that be?”
“Who hired you to kidnap Julianna Capulet?”
“That lovely young detective?” He raised an eyebrow. “Someone tried to kidnap her, did they?”
“Don’t play dumb with me.”
“Even if I did know, why do you care what happens to Detective Capulet?” There was a glint in his eye as he spoke. He knew something.
“That’s none of your business. Now answer the question.” I pulled the pistol from inside my jacket and pointed it at him. “Or they’ll be digging a second grave next to Mercutio’s.”
He eyed me over, his eyes stopping briefly at the gun. “You’re asking a dangerous thing, boy.”
“I’m not a boy anymore.”
Goldfish let out a puff of air. “No, you are not. You grew up into a man. Just like your father,” he added with a cruel twist to his lips.
“I’m nothing like him.”
Goldfish’s lip twitched. His gaze felt as heavy as a fallen pillar. “Of course not.” He glanced down at the freshly covered grave, a mound of dirt and a new headstone marking the final resting place of his son and my best friend. He let out a sigh. “He grew up too. He grew up into a good man.”
“The best,” I agreed, swallowing around an acorn in my throat.
“And yet…here he lies. Gone too soon.”
I studied Goldfish’s face, an older version of Mercutio’s, and felt a stab of sadness. Merc would never grow old enough to look like his father did now.
“I was never a good father to him,” Goldfish said, so quietly I barely heard it.
“No, you weren’t.”
His eyes snapped up to meet mine, a tension to his jaw. “I did the best I could for him, which was to stay away. It was more than you did.” His words were barbed, but the wounds I had already inflicted on myself were so raw that nothing more could be said to hurt me. “You want to know who ordered the capture of your little girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
“Consider this a funeral gift. Because Mercutio would have wanted it.”
“Who?”
“Ask your father.”
My father. The shock snapped at me and yet it didn’t. It already echoed something I knew deep down but was too afraid to admit. “You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie?”
“Because you’ve never liked me. Because you’re covering for the person you’re really working for.”
“You want proof?”
Did I? I nodded, slowly.
“$7,275, Nemo’s Furniture Removals, the thirtieth of August.”
“What’s that supposed to be?”
“It’s how much the contract was, who it was paid to and the date it was paid. Find the corresponding payment on your father’s bank statement, you have your proof. Now,” he held out a hand, “may I have my cane back?” I threw the cane to him and he caught it. “I’ll tell you one more thing before I go, shall I?”
I nodded.
“The contract is still open.” He saluted me with his cane, then turned to walk away. “Happy fishing.”
The contract is still open.
My blood turned to ice. They were still after Julianna.
We had to get out of here, tonight.
20
____________
Julianna
I slipped out of my apartment building as dusk was approaching. I’d spent longer there than I had planned. Nora wouldn’t let me go, squeezing my neck like she was a child, sniffling into my collar. I pushed away a pang of sadness for the life I would be leaving behind.
The thought of Roman soothed the ache. He was my life now. He was more than I ever expected for myself. I could always sneak back to visit her.
A few leaves flew past me, whipping my hair up. Now to just find a cab. It was peak hour and an available cab would be hard to find. Perhaps if I walked it would be quicker.
A taxi turned the corner towards me. That was lucky. I hailed it and jumped inside the warm interior. It seemed fresh out of the box, unmarked leather seats and the plastic divider behind the driver had hardly a scratch on it. From the back seat, I only had a view of the cabbie’s dark hair, a dark blue cap pulled low.
“Waverley Cathedral, please.”
The cab driver nodded and pulled away from the curb. I watched the city that I grew up in slide past my window, recognizing the familiar streets and shops with a nostalgic pang. Soon, everything would be new: new city, new streets, new life. I found myself missing my mother. She would have understood. She knew what it was to love deeply. She would have urged me to go, she would have accepted Roman. I know she would have. Not like my father. A seed of bitterness rooted in my stomach. He would never understand. He would never accept Roman and me.
The taxi took a wrong turn into a deserted alleyway. I frowned. Where was he going? I knocked on the plastic divider. “Excuse me? This isn’t the way to Waverley Cathedral.”
The mechanical locks on the doors clicked like a gunshot. A voice crackled through the small speakers on the side of the cab. “Afraid we’re not going there, Miss Capulet.”
My blood froze in my veins.
A low hiss grew into a loud one as a white smoke filled the back of the cab, stinging my eyes. I held my breath and struggled with the door. This wasn’t working. I spun to my side and kicked at the glass. Break, damn you, break. I could hear the cab driver laughing through the crackle. I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. I gulped in sweet medicinal-smelling air. My head spun. Black spots flickered in front of my eyes. I couldn’t pass out. I wouldn’t. I just had to break this window…
My legs grew weak. The edges of my vision closed in.
I just had to—
Everything went black.
21
____________
Roman
Julianna still wasn’t here. I paced the small room at Waverley Cathedral, grabbing my hair. It was almost nine p.m. She still hadn’t arrived back. She was supposed to be here hours ago. I tried calling her several times, my fingers stabbing the keys on my new burner phone, but her cell phone had been turned off. I was about to go insane. My heart tore itself to pieces with helpless worry. Something had gone wrong. Terribly wrong. What was the bet my father had something to do with this.
I couldn’t wait here any longer.
Outside Julianna’s apartment, I sat in the black sedan I’d stolen. It was supposed to have been our getaway car, the back packed with a few clothes, enough food and bottled water for our drive out of here.
Her apartment was dark. Too dark. Not a soul stirred inside. Still, I had to be sure. I slipped out of the car and
locked it behind me. In the side alley, I took a run up and leapt for the bottom rung of the fire escape. I caught it, pulling myself up, before making my way up the rickety ladders to her apartment. I peered through her bedroom window into the gloom – she wasn’t home. No one was.
I slid around the building, jumping from ledge to ledge until I got to the single window at the end of the corridor on Julianna’s floor. I found the window unlocked, thank God. I pushed it open and slid inside. It was getting late but I didn’t care. I knocked on Nora’s door, my fist reverberating through the wood. My anxiousness caused me to hammer on it too hard.
I heard a call from inside, “Hang on a damn second.”
Hurry up, Nora. There were no seconds to lose.
Nora opened her door, her robe tied around her waist. Her features went from surprise into a frown. “Roman, what are you doing here?”
“Did you see Julianna?”
“Yes, but she left a few hours ago. To meet you.”
Shit. The blood drained from my limbs. Cold fear took root in my gut. “She never made it.”
Shit shit shit.
Somewhere between here and Waverley Cathedral, Julianna had disappeared.
22
____________
Roman
In the silence of my car, I pulled out my phone and rang a number that I had memorized. A contact I only called in emergencies. A number that I always deleted from the phone memory after I used it.
“I thought I told you never to call me again,” a female’s voice said through the phone, no humor to her tone.
“It’s an emergency,” I said through gritted teeth.
“It always is with you.”
“Goddammit, D, I don’t have time to chit-chat.”
She tsked. “Alright already. Calm your farm.”
I shoved down the frustrated curt response about to lash off the tip of my tongue. Control yourself, Roman. Yelling at D was not going to get Jules back. “I need you to check something in the Tyrell accounts.”