Chapter 43

Chapter Forty-Three

Saverio

J ordan sits in an armchair in the lounge when Anya and I get downstairs. Livy follows with Claire in her arms.

With a nod, I dismiss the guard who’s keeping an eye on the detective.

Jordan stands when we approach, dragging a gaze over the sweatpants and long-sleeved T-shirts Anya and I threw on hastily. He’s observant enough to miss nothing. Luckily, Anya managed to hide the scrapes on her face behind a thick layer of foundation. Despite having shoved her bandaged feet into a pair of sneakers, she walks normally. She’s stretched her sleeves over her hands to hide her injured palms, looking more like an innocent, somewhat neglected teenager in baggy clothes than a woman who killed six men a few hours ago.

“Long night?” Jordan arches an eyebrow. “You look tired.”

“We celebrated my wife’s birthday.” I fix a cold gaze on him. “We didn’t get to bed until three this morning. So yes, we were having a sleep-in.”

“What can we do for you, Detective Jordan?” Anya asks, her voice level.

His smile is flat. “I have bad news. It’s about your mother.”

I set my cane aside, take Anya’s hand, and pull her down next to me on the sofa. “Did you find her?”

Livy sits down on the other side of me, cradling Claire against her chest.

Jordan takes his seat again. “A guest at the Palm Paradise Motel found her body this morning when he checked out.”

I squeeze Anya’s hand through the fabric of her T-shirt that covers it. Despite the comfortable temperature in the house, her fingertips that stick out from under the sleeve are cold.

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of such bad news,” Jordan says, not looking one iota sorry.

“How?” Anya asks with a vacant expression. When he frowns, she elaborates. “How did she die?”

“Knife wound.” Jordan leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “It was rather gruesome.” He lets that sink in before continuing. “When was the last time you saw her?”

Anya lifts her big, golden eyes to Jordan’s face. “Just after one this morning actually.”

Surprise washes over his features. “Where?”

“At the motel.”

Jordan takes his phone from his jacket pocket and swipes a finger over the screen.

After typing something, he says, “You better tell me everything.”

“My mom and I had a complicated relationship,” Anya starts, glancing at me before facing the detective again. “But I’m sure you already know that from the police report I filed when she went missing from the rehabilitation center.”

“Go on,” he prompts, watching us with cunning attention.

Anya tells him the story we agreed on last night, that Mary kidnapped Claire for ransom, and that we dropped off the money before leaving with our baby.

When she comes to the end of her tale, Jordan traces his bottom lip with a thumb.

Directing the question at Livy, he asks, “What’s your version of the events that took place?”

Livy meets his gaze head-on. “It was exactly like Anya said.”

“So.” Jordan smirks. “The three of you came home after leaving the money with Ms. Mary Brennan at the motel, and you’ve been here since. Can anyone vouch for that?”

“Most of the guests had already left by then,” I say. “But a few friends waited here for us. I can give you their names. Of course, the guards on my premises can testify that we haven’t left since returning with Claire. They can also verify the time we returned.”

He glances toward the patio. “I suppose you wouldn’t be able to give me footage from your security cameras to attest to the facts.”

“We switched them off for the party,” I say. “The system is programmed to send alert notifications when movement is detected, and with the number of feet we had on the property, it would’ve blown up the system.”

“No security?” he asks with mock-surprise. “For a man who was attacked at his wedding, I find it hard to believe that you’d throw a party without your normal security in place.”

“You don’t know what my normal security entails,” I point out. “Secondly, I never said we were unprotected. That’s why my bodyguards were on site.”

“Mm.” He darkens the screen of his phone. “Send me the names and contact details of those friends who stayed until three.”

“The babysitter we hired for last night will be able to validate what happened,” Livy adds. “Sav, you should give Detective Jordan her number.”

Good idea, seeing that Kevin dropped Rosemary off at her apartment soon after she regained consciousness. She can attest to the fact that Mary drugged her and that when she woke up, Claire was gone. As for what happened after, she wouldn’t know. She doesn’t know my wife risked her life to go after a dangerous killer. The text message I sent her at three this morning only said we’d found Claire.

Jordan nods but observes us with unhidden doubt. Phrasing it like an accusation, he says, “You didn’t report the kidnapping.”

“As I said, Detective Jordan,” Anya says, “I didn’t want to lay charges. This wasn’t the first time my mom did something so outrageous. It was a pattern with her, which is why I admitted her to the center from which she escaped.”

“Yes,” Jordan drawls. “I already spoke to the superintendent at the rehab.”

“Shall I go down to the morgue to identify the body?” Anya asks, unable to hide the tremor in her words.

“We identified her from the photo we have on file when you reported her missing,” he says. “But yes, that will be necessary. I advise all three of you to cancel any travel plans you might have made.”

“Are you accusing us of something?” I ask.

“Not yet,” he says, his mouth lifting in the corner. “I’ll be in touch if I need you to come down to the station.”

My reply is smooth. “I’ll inform my lawyer.”

His phone rings just as he stands. He presses the phone to his ear, and then his taunting expression slips. After listening for a while, he says with a bunching jaw, “Keep me in the loop.”

“More bad news?” I ask when he hangs up.

He narrows his eyes. “An explosion claimed several casualties this morning. The bodies have just been identified.” Pausing, he looks between us. “Raphael Morelli and one of his men were also found shot dead at the site, which happens to be not far from the motel.”

Livy sucks in a breath. I have to admire her acting skills.

Anya, on the other hand, is as white as a sheet of paper. She’s not faking her distress. “Could that be related to the kidnapping?”

I rub her back in soothing circles. “It seems too much of a coincidence.”

“Did the superintendent mention that Raphael Morelli visited my mother at the rehab center the day before she escaped?” Anya asks the detective. “I just found out recently myself.”

Jordan’s eyebrows climb up to his hairline. For the first time, his facade cracks, and a sliver of doubt creeps in. “No, he didn’t mention that.” Suspicion is thick in his voice. “How did you find out?”

“I visited Bertrand to see how he was doing. As you know, my mom stabbed him. It came up in our conversation.”

Jordan’s shoulders slump. He blows air through his nostrils. “I’ll let you know what we find out.”

My, “Thanks,” sounds genuine. I push to my feet and take my cane from the side of the sofa. “I’ll see you out.”

I walk the detective to his car not out of politeness but to make sure he leaves. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to snoop around. To be on the safe side, I instruct a guard to scan the house, the gardens, and the vehicles for bugs and listening devices. Who knows what Jordan may have dropped on his way in?

When I get back inside, a message comes through from my forensics contact. I scan over the laboratory data before reading his feedback. After sending a quick reply to thank him, I forward the results to Nicole. I’m more cryptic in my message to Rosemary, only saying the drug is harmless and that I’ll cover the bill for a full medical checkup. I tell her to expect a call from Jordan and that Mary Brennan was found dead. Then I go in search of the women to tell them the news.

Anya and Livy are in the kitchen. Anya is filling the kettle with water, and Livy is scrambling eggs. Claire sits in her highchair by the island counter, playing with a baby-safe rubber giraffe.

“I just got the results from the tests we ran on that cake,” I say.

Anya and Livy stop what they’re doing to look at me.

“Mary used a tasteless and odorless sleep remedy in a concentrated dosage. Rosemary may have a headache due to the dehydrating side effect of the drug, but she shouldn’t have any lasting symptoms.”

“That’s a relief,” Livy says, turning her attention back to the stove.

Anya switches on the kettle. “I’ve been thinking about it non-stop since this morning.” She leans on the counter and chews her lip as she seemingly reflects for a while before saying, “If my mom gave Claire the same drug, she would’ve had to give it to her via a bottle or an injection. I looked, but I didn’t see any needle marks on Claire’s body, which makes me think she opted for a bottle. As we didn’t find anything in Claire’s crib or in her room or anywhere else on the property for that matter, she must’ve taken it with her when she left.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, wanting to reassure her. “We’ll know when Nicole gets the blood test results.”

“Sav is right.” Livy nods over her shoulder. “We can’t change what happened. Let’s just focus on fixing it.”

I go over to Claire and brush a hand over her head. My palm drowns her tiny skull. My chest tightens at the thought of what could’ve happened if Anya hadn’t been as well prepared and brave as she’d been. The scenarios that run through my mind make me want to empty my gut. No wonder Anya can’t stomach it.

I watch her closely while she makes tea. Her cheeks still haven’t recovered their color. Dark circles mar her eyes. Livy, on the other hand, is suspiciously upbeat after the ordeal she’s been through. It makes me think she was born for this life.

I pop bread into the toaster and put place settings at the island counter. When the eggs are ready, I pull out a chair for Anya next to me. As soon as she’s put her butt in the seat, I sit down and drag the chair close enough to mine for our thighs to touch. I need the contact, but she needs it too.

She stares at her plate with a convulsive swallow when Livy heaps eggs onto her toast.

I put a hand on her knee, commanding her attention. “You have to eat, tesoro .”

“You don’t want your breastmilk to dry up,” Livy says gently.

“Yes.” Anya pushes the hair from her face. “I’m just not hungry.”

“Take a few bites,” I urge. “It’ll do you good. Your body needs the energy.”

She nods even though she doesn’t reach for her fork or knife.

I dig into the eggs, lifting a forkful to my mouth as I keep an attentive eye on my girl.

“Excuse me,” she mumbles, pushing back her chair.

She hops down and hurries from the room.

I exchange a look with Livy, concern eating into my gut. “She needs a doctor.”

“Maybe she needs a different kind of doctor.”

I put down my fork. “What do you mean?”

Livy raises a brow, waiting for me to get it. “She’s been through a traumatic experience.”

“You think she should talk to a psychologist.”

Livy shrugs. “It can’t do any harm.”

“Do you think that’s why she’s sick?”

“She blew up six men and killed the two surviving ones in cold blood.”

I clench my jaw. “I’m aware of that.”

“She thought she was going to die. She was ready to die.”

The sound of that alone makes me unravel.

“We could’ve lost Claire,” Livy continues. “We almost did.”

“I get it,” I bite out, unable to listen to more. I’m too close to losing my shit as she names those scenarios that drove like white-hot blades into my chest not minutes ago.

My knee throbs when I get off my chair, but I hardly register the pain. I have bigger worries. “I’ll discuss it with Nicole. Maybe she knows someone trustworthy.”

“That may be a good idea,” Livy says, her tone somber.

I motion at Claire. “Do you mind?” Unable to resist, I press a kiss on my angel’s crown and inhale the scent of her baby shampoo to remind myself that she’s here, that they’re all right. “I’m going to check on Anya.”

Livy’s blue eyes soften. “Be gentle with her.”

I limp my way toward the stairs but stop when I hear a noise coming from the guest bathroom.

Going over, I listen at the door. The sound of heaving sends me in a tailspin. I barely knock before yanking the door open. Anya kneels in front of the toilet, tears running over her ashen cheeks.

“That’s enough,” I say through clenched teeth, dropping the cane and rushing to her. “I’m calling Nicole.”

“I’m fine,” she says, her words meek.

“Goddammit, Anya.” I stop next to her. “You’re not fine.”

“It was the eggs.” She gives me a pitiful look that wreaks havoc with my heart. “I couldn’t stand the smell or the sight.”

Hooking my hands beneath her armpits, I hoist her to her feet. She’s small and light in my hold, reminding me how fragile she is.

“How about dry toast and black tea?” I turn her around and brush the damp hair from her forehead. “Do you think you’ll be able to stomach a few bites?”

“I’ll try.”

“Come on, my love.” I lift her into my arms. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

Her protest is weak. “I can walk.”

“I’ve got you,” I say, heading for the hallway.

She wraps her arms around my neck and holds on. “Your knee.”

“My knee is fine,” I lie.

She rests her cheek against my chest where my heart beats with frantic thuds. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Opting for humor, I say, “I’ll get my wheelchair. I can sit in it with you on my lap and wheel us around the house.”

Her laugh is weary. “That’s not funny.”

I take the elevator and carry her to the bedroom. When I’ve made her comfortable in bed, I tear myself from her side to go make that toast and to call Nicole while I do it.

Livy stands in the hallway with Claire in her arms when I exit the bedroom and pull the door shut behind me.

“How is she?” she asks in a lowered voice, a pleat marring her brow.

Spearing my fingers through my hair, I admit, “I don’t know.” Fuck. “Not well.” I glance behind me at the closed door. “She can’t keep anything down.”

“It could be PTS.” Livy bounces Claire on her hip. “I’ll go make a ginger infusion. That should settle the nausea.”

“I was on my way to make black tea and dry toast. I’ll call Nicole while I’m at it.”

“I’ll take care of the food. You call Nicole.”

Already heading to the landing, I shoot her a grateful smile. “I appreciate it.”

In my study, I use one of the burner phones to dial Nicole’s number. I pace in front of my desk as I wait for the call to connect.

“How are you doing?” I ask when she answers.

“Honestly? I’ve been better. How’s everyone on that side?”

“It’s Anya. She’s not keeping any food or liquids down.”

“That’s not good.” Nicole sounds worried. “It could be the shock.”

“Can you give her something?”

“I could give her an Ondansetron injection to stop the vomiting. I use it in severe cases of morning sickness during pregnancy. The real threat is dehydration. Give me a few minutes to grab what I need from my consultation room. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

I scrub a hand over my face. “Thanks, Cole.”

“While I have you on the phone, the results of Claire’s blood tests just came in. Everything looks fine. The drug in her system is a mild sedative that’s safe for babies of her age.”

My shoulders sag with relief. “Thank fuck.”

“My thought exactly.”

“Thanks for running the tests. I owe you.” Big time. “And just so you’re aware, a certain Detective Jordan will be in touch. He dropped by this morning to ask some questions.”

“I take it they found the body.”

My tone is grim. “Yes.”

She exhales audibly. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

I disconnect and crunch the phone under my heel before throwing the sim card into the portable burner. Once I’ve fried it, I go back to the room to tell Anya the good news about Claire.

The sight that greets me stops me dead on the threshold. An open suitcase half filled with clothes lies on the bed. Anya straightens from putting a pile of sweaters on top. Her sad, sympathetic smile sets my heart pumping.

“Anya.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own. “What are you doing?”

She simply stands there, looking at me with tears glistening in her golden eyes.

I go over with long strides, stopping short of her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

She cups the scarred side of my face. “You were right. You told me so many times, but I didn’t want to listen.”

“No,” I say through gritted teeth, balling my fingers into fists.

She drops her hand to her side. “After everything we’ve been through, this is the least we owe each other. You have your club and your territories back. The business is no longer in trouble. Things are looking great financially. Raphael is dead.” She stares at me with a soft light in her gaze. “You no longer need me.”

“Like hell,” I say, a tremor working its way through my body from my head right down to my feet.

“You don’t love me. As long as I stay here, neither of us has a chance at finding love again.”

I open my mouth to tell her how wrong she is, but she places a finger on my lips.

“Let me finish,” she says. “I deserve better. You deserve better.”

My voice shakes. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“What happened—” She swallows, shaking her head as if to physically expel the memories. “It made me realize how short life is.”

“I love you,” I say, the words coming out all wrong, angry, because my chest is too fucking tight to speak.

Her smile is even sadder than those mesmerizing eyes are. “Don’t do this. Please. If nothing else, I deserve your honesty.”

“I am being fucking honest.”

“No, Sav. You were honest in the Jacuzzi. You’ve been honest with me from the start. I simply chose not to listen.”

“No,” I say again as if the word alone can stop her. “That ship has sailed. You made your choice.” I point at the floor. “You’re staying right here. This is your place.”

“I’ll always be there for you when you need me. You can count on me anytime.” Her expression is serene, as if she’s already made peace with her decision. “You’ll be fine.”

Her gentle words are meant to be soothing, convincing, when I know deep down that nothing can be further from the truth.

“Anya, I beg you. Do you want me to go down on my knees?”

She holds up a hand, her voice close to breaking. “Don’t make this harder than it is.”

With that, she turns around and walks from the room, taking everything I care about in this world with her.