Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Anya

“ D o you mind watching Claire for a couple of hours this afternoon?” I ask Livy when we arrive at the club on Wednesday morning. “I have a check-up with the ob-gyn.”

And an appointment with Elena.

“Nicole?” Livy shrugs out of her furry green coat, flashing a charming smile at the bouncer who takes it. “Why don’t Claire and I come with you? I like that girl. Nicole is smart and sassy. Plus, I love the way she dresses.”

I turn toward the stairs, carrying Claire, who’s wrapped up in warm blankets and a woolly hat with a big tassel, in one arm and my handbag over the other. Dante has gone ahead with her stroller, the diaper bag, and my laptop.

“I, um, have to drop in somewhere on my way,” I say.

“Hold on.” Livy takes my arm, stopping me. “I know that tone. You’re hiding something.”

I glance around to ensure no one is within earshot. “I’m meeting with Elena before.”

“What?” She reels, letting me go. “Why?”

“To help Saverio.”

Her brow pinches. “He won’t like it.”

“That’s why he can’t know.”

She purses her lips. “I’ll come with you. Dante can watch Claire.”

“Livy,” I protest. “That’s not a good idea.”

“I’ll bring my gun. What if you need protection?”

That makes me smile. “We’re meeting alone.”

“Ha.” Her expression is condescending. “Do you trust her?”

“No, but she hates her husband, and from what I’ve seen, he feels more or less the same about her. She believes Saverio is going to target her when he takes revenge. She’s scared. Otherwise, Rachele wouldn’t have shown up at the hospital to plead Elena’s case. She’ll come alone.”

Livy crosses her arms. “I’ll hang around in the background just in case.”

I know that obstinate look on her face. She won’t budge.

“Fine,” I say with a sigh. “But stay out of sight.”

Sticking a thumb and a forefinger between her lips, she whistles. “Hey, Dante.”

He appears on the gallery, leaning over the rail. “What’s up, Liv?”

“I’m driving Anya to her ob-gyn checkup this afternoon,” she calls up to him. “You’re watching Claire.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dante salutes her before disappearing again.

Taking my arm, Livy pulls me toward the ladies’ room.

“So,” she says in a lowered voice. “What’s the plan?”

Elena sits at a table in the back of the coffee shop, wearing a camel-colored jacket and black blouse. Her dark hair is twisted into a bun at her nape. She looks polished and sophisticated except for her nails that are chewed so short they’re bleeding.

She looks up from the mug she frames between her hands when I approach.

A sneer contorts her lips even as she bounces her knee in a nervous reaction. “Rachele said you could talk your husband out of blowing me to pieces when he goes after Raphael.” She watches me with uncanny attention as I take a seat across from her. “Is that true? And don’t waste my time. I only have ten minutes.” She looks at the window. “Raphael’s men never leave me alone for longer.”

“Yes.” I remove my scarf but don’t bother with my coat. I’m not staying that long. “I have a proposition for you.”

“What do you want?” she asks with animosity, turning a cool gaze back to me.

A waiter comes up to take my order. I ask for a cup of green tea, waiting until he’s gone before I speak.

“Raphael recently received a shipment of arms.”

She watches me quietly.

“I want to know what was in those containers, and the information better be exact.” I add with meaning, “To the last bullet.”

Her lips part. She studies me for a moment, and then she utters a soft laugh. “You’re crazy if you think Raphael will tell me that.”

“I want to know how many guns and grenades he has in every arsenal he keeps across this country. Get me an inventory, and you’ll be safe when Saverio retaliates.”

She scoffs. “Saverio may not win this war. There’s a big chance he won’t.” She pulls the sugar pot closer and takes a packet of sweetener. “So your deal is no good to me.”

The statement makes me nauseous, but I don’t show her how her words affect me.

“What do you want?” I ask, trying to get a read on her.

The waiter returns with my tea.

When he’s left, she says, “I want to disappear. I want a new identity.”

I think about the fake passports in Saverio’s desk drawer. “That can be arranged.”

She tears open the packet and pours the contents into her mug. My gaze is drawn to the bruise on her wrist where her sleeve has moved up.

I reach over the table and place a hand on her arm. “Elena.”

She stiffens at my touch.

Concern squeezes my ribcage. I look pointedly at the purple mark that’s turning green around the edges. “Did he do that to you?”

She yanks her arm away and pulls down her sleeve to cover the bruise. “I want a guarantee that you can get me what I want.”

I sit back. “I can send you a photo of your new passport. As soon as you get me the inventory, I’ll deliver it in person.”

She nods, blinking back moisture that gathers in her eyes.

“Elena,” I say again. “If he’s hurting you?—”

“How am I supposed to get that kind of information?”

“Do you have the password for his computer?”

She makes a face. “What do you think?”

“Can you get access to his bank account?”

Her smile is wry. “He closed the account my father opened for me. I don’t have a credit card or a penny at my disposal. Raphael pays for whatever I need. It’s his way of controlling me.”

Wow. What a dick. “How about his banking details then—an account or wire transfer number?”

She picks up her spoon and stirs her tea. “He doesn’t share those details with me.”

I motion at her mug and point out gently, “The sweetener isn’t a good idea. It can be harmful for the baby.”

Distress flickers through her eyes. She darts a hand under the table and cups her stomach before catching herself and awkwardly placing her palm back on the tabletop.

I can’t stand by and let Raphael hurt her or the baby. “Elena, it’s obvious you need help and?—”

“I’ll do it,” she says with more force than necessary. Making an obvious effort to calm herself, she continues in a quieter tone, “I’ll find a way to get the information.”

I didn’t bargain on leaving here being worried about her, but I didn’t expect to find a woman who’s clearly abused. There’s a lot to be said about Saverio, but he’s always put my and my baby’s health first.

“If you’re going to put yourself at risk—” I start.

“I know someone…” She hesitates. “Someone who works for Raphael who I can trust.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you want the information or not?” she snaps.

“You know what? Forget about the information. I’ll get you that passport anyway.”

Her tone is cutting. “No.”

I give a start.

“A deal is a deal,” she continues. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s concern, not pity. There’s a difference.”

She grabs the elegant clutch bag that lies on the table. “You can’t call or email me. Raphael checks my phone and my emails.”

“Is that why you can’t arrange a fake identity yourself?”

“Even if I had the money, I don’t have the contacts.” She stares into her mug. “Not since Papa got sick.”

“How will you manage on your own?” At the frown that snaps her eyebrows together, I add, “Once you’re somewhere else?”

She gets up and pulls her back straight. “Rachele already has a plan. She’ll make sure I have enough cash to help me get on my feet.”

When she takes a bill from her bag and leaves it on the table, I say, “That’s okay. I’ll get it.”

Her smile is pitying, as if I’m the one she needs to feel sorry for. “Raphael will ask questions if someone paid for my tea.”

“I see,” I say, the disquiet inside me intensifying.

“I’ll call you from a burner phone when I have something. I’ll let you know to which number you can send proof of the passport.”

“I’ll need a set of passport photos.”

“I have electronic ones I had done to change my passport with my new surname after the wedding. I’ll text you the link and the password to access them.”

“Where will you get one? A burner phone, I mean.”

Slipping the bag under her arm, she clutches it against her side. “From the same someone who can get me a key to Raphael’s office.”

“If that plan puts you in any danger, the deal is off.”

She tilts her head. “The deal is on, stupid little girl. It’s too late to back out.”

I stand. “If something goes wrong, I’ll get you out.”

“I don’t need you to save me,” she says, looking down her nose at me. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m saving myself.”

With that, she walks from the shop.

I wait a good five minutes before I go over to the bar where Livy sits in a black trench coat with a black scarf around her hair and oversized sunglasses on her face.

She lowers the cappuccino she’s been sipping. “Will she come through?”

“Yes.” I frown. “I hope so.”

“Good.” She hops from her seat. “That was kind of boring. I was hoping for more action.”

“More action?”

“It’s a pity I never got to use my gun.”