by Anna Zaires
“The Sullivans own half of this town. Prostitution, drugs, weapons—you name it, they have their fingers in it. Patrick Sullivan heads up the family, and he’s got just about every local politician and police chief in his pocket.”
“Ah.” It makes sense now. I haven’t had dealings with the Sullivan organization, but I’d made it my business to know potential clients in the US and elsewhere. Sullivan’s name must’ve come up in my research—which means we might indeed have a problem. “What does Patrick Sullivan have to do with this?”
“He has two sons,” Lucas says. “Or rather, he had two sons. Brian and Sean. Brian is currently marinating in lye at our rented warehouse, and Sean is the owner of the white SUV.”
“I see.” So the fuckers who attacked Rosa and my wife are connected. More than connected, in fact—which explains their idiotic arrogance in assaulting two women at a public club. With their daddy running this town, they must be used to being the biggest sharks in the pool.
“Also,” Lucas continues, “the kid we’ve got strung up in that warehouse is their seventeen-year-old cousin, Sullivan’s nephew. His name is Jimmy. Apparently, he and the two brothers are close. Or were close, I should say.”
My eyes narrow in sudden suspicion. “Do they have any idea who we are? Could they have singled out Rosa to get at me?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Lucas’s face tightens. “The Sullivan brothers have a nasty history with women. Date-rape drugs, sexual assault, gang bangs of sorority girls—the list goes on and on. If it weren’t for their father, they’d be rotting in prison right now.”
“I see.” My mouth twists. “Well, by the time we’re done with them, they’ll wish they were.”
Lucas nods grimly. “Should I organize a strike team?”
“No,” I say. “Not yet.” I turn and walk over to stand by the window, gazing out into the dark, tree-lined yard. It’s four in the morning, and the only light visible through the trees comes from the half-moon hanging in the sky.
This community is a quiet, peaceful place, but it won’t stay that way for long. Once Sullivan figures out who killed his sons and nephew, these neat, landscaped streets will run red with blood.
“I want Nora and her parents taken to the estate before we do anything,” I say, turning back to face Lucas. “Sean Sullivan will have to wait. For now, we’ll focus on the nephew.”
“All right.” Lucas inclines his head. “I’ll begin making the arrangements.”
He walks out of the room, and I turn to look out the window again.
Despite the half-moon, all I see out there is the darkness.
Chapter 29
Nora
“Nora, honey. . .” A familiar gentle touch pulls me out of my restless slumber. Forcing my heavy eyelids open, I stare uncomprehendingly at my mom, who’s sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking my hair. My head aches so much that it takes me a few moments to process her presence in our bedroom—and notice her red-rimmed, swollen eyes.
“Mom?” Holding the blanket, I sit up, suppressing a groan at the pain caused by the movement. My back feels stiff and sore, and my lower abdomen is cramping dully. “What are you doing here?”
“Julian called us this morning,” she says, her voice shaking. “He said you and Rosa were attacked at a club last night.”
“Oh.” A flash of anger wakes me fully. How dare Julian worry my parents like this? I would’ve come up with something less frightening to tell them, some gentler way to explain the loss of the baby.
The loss of the baby.
The agony is so sharp and sudden that I can’t hold it in. A raw, jagged sob bursts out of my throat, bringing with it a flood of burning tears. Shaking, I clamp my hand over my mouth, but it’s too late. The pain wells up and spills out, the tears like acid on my skin. I can feel my mom’s arms around me, hear her crying, and I know I have to stop, but I can’t. It’s too much, the grief, the knowledge that I did this.
Suddenly, it’s no longer my mom who holds me. Instead, I’m bundled in the blanket on Julian’s lap, his strong arms wrapped around me as he cradles me against him, rocking me like a child. I can hear my dad’s voice, the timbre low and soothing, and I know Dad is consoling Mom, trying to calm her in her pain. At some point, he and Julian must’ve come into the room, but I don’t know how or when it happened.
Eventually, Julian carries me to the shower. It’s there, away from my parents’ eyes, that I’m finally able to regain control. “I’m sorry,” I whisper as Julian towels me off and dresses me in a thick, terrycloth robe. “I’m so sorry. Where’s Rosa? How is she?”
“She’s all right,” he says quietly. His eyes are bloodshot, making me suspect he didn’t sleep much last night. “Well, as all right as can be expected. She’s still in her room, but Lucas spoke to her and said she’s doing better. And you have nothing to be sorry for, baby. Nothing.”
I shake my head, the awful guilt seizing me again. “I need to go see her—”
“Wait, Nora.” He grabs my arm just as I’m about to rush back into the bedroom. “Before you do, there’s something you and I need to discuss with your parents.”
“My parents?”
He nods, looking down at me. “Yes. That’s why I called them here. We all need to talk.”
* * *
“The Sullivan crime family?” My dad’s voice rises incredulously. “You’re telling me that the men who attacked my daughter are part of the mob?”
“Yes,” Julian says, his face hard and expressionless. He’s sitting next to me on the couch, his left hand resting on my knee. “It’s something I discovered last night, after we returned from the hospital.”
“We need to go to the police right away.” My mom leans forward, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. “Those monsters need to pay for this. If you know who they are—”
“They’ll pay, Gabriela.” Julian’s gaze turns to steel. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“It’s because of you, isn’t it?” my dad says savagely, getting up in a sharp motion. “They came after you—”
“No,” I interrupt, shaking my head. I’m still reeling from what I just learned, but if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that for once, Julian’s business is not at fault. “It was random, Dad. They had no idea who Rosa and I were. They were just”—I shudder, remembering—“just doing it for fun.”
“Fun?” My dad stares at me, his features tense with anger as he sits down again. “Those assholes thought hurting two women would be fun?”
“Well, technically, they wanted only Rosa,” I say dully. “I just happened to intervene.”
Julian’s hand tightens on my knee as he glances in my direction. For the first time this morning, I see a flash of fury behind his emotionless facade. I have no doubt that he blames me for this—for using my birthday to manipulate him into going to that club, for trying to rescue Rosa on my own.
For losing our child . . . the one I didn’t even know I wanted until it was too late.
I have no idea what my punishment will be, but whatever it is, it’ll be more than deserved.
“We have to go to the police,” my mom says again. “We need to report—”
“No.” This time, it’s Julian who rises to his feet and begins to pace in front of the couch. “That wouldn’t be wise.”
“Why?” my dad asks sharply. “This is what civilized people do in this country. They go to the authorities—”
“The authorities are in Sullivan’s pocket.” Julian stops to give my dad a harsh look. “And even if they weren’t, we might as well send Sullivan an email saying who we are.”
“Right.” I jump to my feet, ignoring the pain in my sore muscles. Finally, my sluggish brain connects all the dots, and I realize why Julian brought my parents here. If the man Julian gutted last night is indeed the head mobster’s son, then my husband isn’t the only dangerous criminal out for vengeance. “Mom, Dad, we can’t do that.”
My mom looks startled.
“But, Nora—”
“It will be best if the two of you come visit us for a bit,” Julian says, walking over to stand next to me. “Just until we get this situation sorted out.”
“What?” My mom gapes at us. “What do you mean? Why? Oh.” She abruptly falls silent. “You did something to one of those men last night, didn’t you?” she says slowly, looking at Julian. “You don’t want them to know who we are because . . . because—”
“Because one of Sullivan’s sons is dead, yes.” Julian might as well be corroborating the weather report. “They’ll be looking for us, and when they figure out who we are, they’ll come after you and Tony.”
My mom visibly blanches, and my dad rises to his feet. “You’re saying the mob is after us?” His voice is filled with angry disbelief. “That they might attack us because . . . because you—”
“Killed one of Sullivan’s sons for trying to hurt Nora, yes.” Julian’s voice is the coldest I’ve ever heard it. “We can worry about casting blame later. For now, since I don’t want Nora grieving for her parents, I suggest you notify your employers of your upcoming vacation and start packing.”
“When are we leaving?” my mom asks, her face pale as she stands up as well. “And how long will this vacation be?”
“Gabs, you’re not seriously thinking—” my dad begins, but my mom places her hand on his arm.
“I am.” My mom’s voice is steady now, her gaze filled with resolve. “I don’t want this any more than you do, but you’ve heard about the Sullivans. They’re bad news, and if Julian says we’re in danger—”
“You trust this murderer?” My dad turns to glare at her. “You think we’ll be safer with him?”
“Than here with the mob seeking vengeance? Yes, I think we will be,” my mom retorts. “We don’t exactly have many options, do we?”
“We can go to the police or the FBI—”
“No, Tony, we can’t, not if what Julian says is true.”
“Well, obviously he would be against going to the police—”
As they argue, I feel my headache intensifying. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. “Mom, Dad, please.” I step forward, ignoring the pounding in my temples. “Just come with us for a while. It doesn’t have to be forever. Right, Julian?” I glance at my husband for confirmation.
Julian nods coolly. “Like I said, just until I get this situation straightened out. Hopefully no more than a month or two.”
“A month or two? How exactly will you straighten this out in just a month or two?” my mom asks while my dad stands there, vibrating with tense anger.
“Do you really want to know, Gabriela?” Julian asks softly, and my mom turns even paler.
“No, that’s okay.” She sounds slightly hoarse. Clearing her throat, she asks, “So what do we tell our work? How do we explain such a long vacation on short notice? I mean, it’s really more of a leave of absence—”
“You can tell them the truth: that your daughter suffered a miscarriage and needs you for the next few weeks.” Julian’s harsh words make me flinch. Noticing my reaction, he reaches for me, his fingers curving around my palm as he says to my mom in a softer tone, “Or you can come up with some other story. It’s really up to you.”
“Okay, we’ll do that,” my mom says quietly, looking at us, and when I glance at my dad, I see that the anger has left his face. Instead, he seems to be holding back tears. Catching my gaze, he steps toward me.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he says quietly, his deep voice filled with sorrow. “I didn’t have a chance to say it yet, but I’m so, so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you, Dad,” I whisper, and then I have to turn away so I don’t start crying again.
Immediately, Julian’s arms close around me, bringing me into his embrace. “Tony, Gabriela,” I hear him say softly. His hand rubs soothing circles on my back as I stand there, fighting tears, my face pressed against his chest. “I think it’s best if Nora rests for now. Why don’t the two of you discuss this, and we can talk some more later today? Ideally, I want you and Nora to fly out tomorrow, before Sullivan figures out who we are.”
“Of course,” my mom says quietly. “Come, Tony, we have a lot to do.” And before I can turn around, I hear their footsteps heading out of the room.
When they’re gone, Julian loosens his hold and pulls back to gaze at me. “Nora, baby—”
“I’m okay,” I interrupt, not wanting his pity. The guilt that I managed to push aside for the past hour is back, stronger than ever. “I’m going to go talk to Rosa now.”
Julian studies me for a moment and then steps back, letting me go. “All right, my pet,” he says softly. “Go ahead.”
Chapter 30
Julian
As I watch Nora exit the room, I’m cognizant of a thick, heavy pressure in my chest. She’s trying to hide her pain, to be strong, but I can tell that what happened is ripping her apart. Her breakdown this morning was just the tip of the iceberg, and the knowledge that I’m to blame for this—that I’m to blame for everything—adds to the violent rage churning in my gut.
This is all my fault. If I hadn’t been so fucking eager to please her, to make her happy by giving in to her every whim, none of this would’ve happened. I should’ve listened to my instincts and kept her on the estate, where nobody could’ve touched her. At the very least, I should’ve denied her request to go to that accursed club.
But I didn’t. I let myself get soft. I let my obsession with her cloud my judgment, and now she’s paying the price. If only I hadn’t let her go alone to that restroom, if only I’d chosen a different club . . . The poisonous regrets swirl in my brain until I feel like my head will explode.
I need to find an outlet for my fury, and I need to do so now.
Turning, I head for the front door.
“I brought the cousin here,” Lucas says as soon as I step out onto the driveway. “I figured you might not want to go all the way to Chicago today.”
“Excellent.” Lucas knows me too well. “Where is he?”
“In that van over there.” He points at a black van parked strategically behind the trees farthest from the neighbors.
Filled with dark anticipation, I walk toward it, with Lucas accompanying me. “Has he given us any info yet?” I ask.
“He gave us access codes to his cousin’s parking garage and building elevators,” Lucas says. “It wasn’t difficult to get him to talk. I figured I’d leave the rest of the interrogation to you, in case you wanted to speak to him in person.”
“That’s good thinking. I definitely do.” Approaching the van, I open the back doors and peer into the dark interior.
A skinny young man is lying on the floor, gagged. His ankles are tied to his wrists behind his back, contorting him into an unnatural position, and his face is bloodied and swollen. A strong scent of piss, fear, and sweat wafts toward me. Lucas and my guards did a solid job of working him over.
Ignoring the stench, I climb into the van and turn around. “Are the walls soundproof?” I ask Lucas, who remains on the ground.
He nods. “About ninety percent.”
“Good. That should suffice.” I close the doors behind me, locking me in with the boy—who immediately begins to writhe on the floor, making frantic noises behind the gag.
Pulling out my knife, I crouch next to him. His struggles intensify, panicked noises growing in volume. Ignoring the terrified look in his eyes, I grab his neck to hold him still and wedge the knife between the gag and his cheek, slicing through the piece of cloth. A trickle of blood runs down his cheek where the knife cut him, and I watch it, relishing the sight. I want more of his blood. I want to see this van covered with it.
As if sensing my thoughts, the teenager begins to blubber. “Please don’t do this, man,” he begs, sobbing. “I didn’t do nothing! I swear, I didn’t do nothing—”
“Shut up.” I stare at him, letting the anticipation build. “Do you know why you’re here?”
He shakes his hea
d. “No! No, I swear,” he babbles. “I don’t know nothing. I was in this club, and there was this girl, and I don’t know what happened ’cause I just woke up in this warehouse, and I didn’t do nothing—”
“You didn’t touch the girl in the yellow dress?” I cock my head to the side, twirling the knife between my fingers. I know exactly how cats feel when they play with mice; this kind of thing is fun.
The young man’s eyes widen. “What? No! Fuck, no! I swear, I didn’t have nothing to do with that! I told Sean it was a bad idea—”
“So you knew they were going to do it?”
Instantly realizing what he’s admitted to, the boy starts babbling again, tears and snot running down his battered face. “No! I mean, they don’t ever tell me nothing until they do it, so I didn’t know! I swear, I didn’t know until we were there, and they said to watch the door, and I told them it’s not fair, and they said I should just do it, and then this other girl came, and I told her to go away—”
“Shut up.” I press the sharp edge of the knife against his mouth. He falls silent instantly, his eyes white with fear. “All right,” I say softly, “now listen to me carefully. You’re going to tell me where your cousin Sean eats, sleeps, shits, fucks, and whatever else he does. I want a list of every place he might ever visit. Got it?”
He gives a tiny nod, and I move the knife away. Immediately, the boy starts spewing out names of restaurants, clubs, underground fighting gyms, hotels, and bars. I use my phone to record all that, and when he’s done, I smile at him. “Good job.”
His cracked lips quiver in a weak attempt at an answering smile. “So now you’re going to let me go, right? ’Cause I swear I didn’t have nothing to do with that.”
“Let you go?” I look down at the knife in my hand, as if considering his words. Then I look up and smile again. “Why? Because you betrayed your cousin?”
“But . . . but I told you everything!” His eyes are showing white again. “I don’t know nothing else!”