Chapter Six

Stefano

Bone crunched. A third finger severed and dropped to the concrete floor. Blood gushed from the wound. A painful wail spilled from Oscar Banks' swollen and bloody lips. He arched in agony against the high-back chair.

Veins bulged and tendon stretched his neck beneath the zip tie tethering him to the chair. Zip ties also cut into the flesh of his wrists anchoring him to the arms of the chair. He'd been stripped to his boxers. Gooseflesh rippled his sweat-slicked skin.

"Take his thumb," Marco said as he twisted his lionhead ring on his finger.

"Cuts like butter," I whispered into his ear as I applied pressure on the bolt cutter, slicing into his thumb just below the knuckle.

Banks clenched his jaw, grinding on his molars, and grunted with pain. Drool and blood dribbled from his mouth, down his chin, and onto his chest. I scooped his thumb off the floor and tossed it onto the chair between his widespread thighs.

"What do you think is going to happen when I run out of fingers?" I asked. "Next is your tongue. You won't need it to speak. Maybe your dick? You don't need it. You're a pussy."

Marco crossed the room as he rolled up his shirt sleeves. We'd been in the basement of the bank for a couple of hours. We'd eaten lunch while Oscar Banks pissed himself and babbled about retaliation and not knowing who we were dealing with.

"Why the fuck would I tell you shit? After what we've done to your family, we both know I'm not walking out of here."

"Not after Stef breaks both your legs." Carmine sat at a table with Ant.

"Let me tell you what I do know," Marco stated. "Perhaps you're giving up body parts unnecessarily. I can help motivate you. I know you were the one to accuse Dante Caruso of laundering money for the bank. Did they tell you LB Consorzio belongs to me and my brothers?"

I leaned against the wall and cleaned chunks of flesh and blood from beneath my fingernails with my knife. "What did you think would happen when you implicated the Italian mafia in criminal activity?"

Marco dragged a chair in front of Banks and sat across from him. He rubbed his knuckles, letting the moment grow heavy. "Nothing is more important than family. Something you've neglected."

Banks' eyes widened.

Ant put a cigarette between his lips. "You're a piece of shit," he said to Banks.

Marco and I had discussed our options. Banks had a daughter. After his last arrest, the mother had changed her name, left the state, and made a new life for her and the kid.

I'd prefer to gut Banks, but he was in deep with someone. I'd killed enough men to know Banks wasn't going to be easy to break.

"There is one offer on the table." Marco lowered his voice. "I'm willing to pay you for information. The money will be anonymously left to your daughter in trust."

He jerked against his constraints.

"You're not leaving this room," I said. "Give me names, and I'll make your death quick. If not, my brother is going to leave the room, and I'm going to cut your flesh from your body and feed it to you."

"Someone set you up." Carmine sipped a cola, a smile on his mouth, and ate a bag of chips left over from lunch as if entertained at a Saturday afternoon matinee. "You've got one option, and he's in front of you." He popped another chip into his mouth.

Banks licked the blood and spit from his lips. After a moment, he sagged in the chair. "I work for Edmond Story."

I straightened from the wall. Edmond Story was my competition in the illegal banking business.

"Edmond met with Luca," he said. "The day before he was gunned down."

On the day before the diamond delivery. The job that nearly killed my brother because he was taking a bullet meant for me.

"Luca was looking for smurfs to move money." Smurfs were fodder, low level players used to integrate illegally gained money back into the system through small deposits. "Edmond has a network in place, but he lied to Luca. No way could he move the amounts Luca needed. But he wanted Luca's income sources."

Banks' tired gaze shifted from me to Marco, then back again. "Fuck this. Why do I care if you burn down the fucking city?" His audible swallow pushed against the zip tie on his neck. "How much are you going to give my kid?"

"More than you ever have," Ant said. "How the fuck was he going to make contact with Luca's sources? You think you can knock on the door and ask for a twenty percent cut?"

"Some Italian bitch was going to set up the accounts. Edmond seemed to think it was funny he was fucking Bruno pussy while he fucked over the Bruno family."

Marco jolted out of the chair and kicked it across the room.

"Can I kill Giada now?" I asked Marco. "Fucking cunt needs to be in here with him."

Banks laughed, spitting blood and saliva from his mouth. It trickled down his chin and dripped onto his bare chest. "For a couple of months, business was good. But you fucking people keep showing up.

"Edmond heard a rumor that Marco was taking over the Jilani family through marriage. He panicked." Banks tried to shift on the chair. His eyes drooped, and his words began to slur. "Edmond wasn't going to let Bruno business cut into his profits."

As I listened to Banks confess to Marco, I stepped up to the table and pointed to Ant's pack of cigarettes. I'd left mine in my leather jacket upstairs in my office. He nodded.

Marco paced in front of Banks. "Who is Edmond doing business with now?"

I lit the cigarette and inhaled.

"I don't know." Banks coughed.

I pulled out my phone. Fuck. A couple of hours ago, I'd missed a call from Celine. This wasn't the time to listen to her voice, but we'd gotten everything out of Banks.

I stepped away as Banks blubbered to Marco.

I hit the play button and put the phone to my ear.

"Stef, it's Celine! Oh god, pick up."

My gut clenched, and a haze of black cloaked my vision. My Angel needed me. I dropped my cigarette to the floor and smashed the cherry under my boot. "Fuck."

With the phone pressed to my ear, I paced the back of the room and tried to understand her words. Tears choked her voice. Why was she crying?

"Please. I'm scared. He's going to take me. I can't go home."

My heart slammed around in my chest. Who? What the fuck was she talking about?

She screamed at traffic. I closed my eyes, listening, with a burning rage to find and rip apart whoever dared to terrorize my angel.

"Oh fuck. He's right behind me."

"Who?" I asked, knowing I wasn't going to get an answer.

Marco, Carmine, and Ant all turned toward me.

"I don't know what I'm going to do. I won't go with him. I won't be his wife."

Wife? What the fuck was she saying? Fuck the date on Saturday.

"Oh fuck. I'm so screwed. He's going to take me."

I froze with the words. I had to finish listening when I wanted to disconnect and call her back. Chills crawled across my flesh, and fear slipped hot through my veins. "Where are you?" I waited, hoping she'd give me a location and a name. Banks wouldn't be the only dead man tonight.

"I'm scared… I'm scared this will be my last chance to talk to you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I know that might sound pathetic because we barely know each other. Think of me when you look at the painting."

I lifted my gaze to Carmine. He slowly approached me. "What's wrong?"

"Stef, if you know someone named Marco Bruno, tell him to be careful. Ian wants him dead. I hope I see you again someday."

Time seemed to stand still. I lowered the phone, numb with disbelief, and struggling to breathe. Immediately, I pressed the button to call her and raked my fingers through my hair as the call went to voicemail. "I'm here," I said, fighting against the pressure behind my eyes. "Tell me where you are. Christ, Angel, answer your phone."

Fuck. I disconnected and sent a text.

Stefano: Where are you? Please call me.

I tapped the corner of the phone against my forehead. I had to think. Where would she go? I had to get out of here. I had to find her. Fuck!

I spun toward Marco and Banks. Because I had to deal with this piece of shit, I wasn't there when Celine needed me.

"Are you done?" I asked Marco.

Marco nodded. I pulled my gun from my side holster, slid my finger over the trigger, pointed the barrel at Banks, and fired.

The explosion pierced the silence. Brains and skull sprayed the wall. The scent of sulfur permeated the air, and a ribbon of smoke curled around the muzzle of the gun. My arm dropped to my side. Banks jerked once, his mouth dropped open, and his body went limp. A tiny trickle of blood seeped from the entrance wound. The back of his head was on the floor and wall.

"Stef, what's going on?" Marco stepped in front of me. "Stef?"

"You're not safe," I said. "Ian Byrne may have ordered a hit on you."

"Who was on the phone?" Ant asked.

"I don't have time to explain. I think Ian has taken something that belongs to me." And now she wasn't answering her phone. I seethed with a chain reaction of emotions, going from fear to fury.

"What the fuck do you mean you can't explain?" Ant's voice rose with each word.

"The only threat in this room is dead now," I said to Ant. "I need to go."

Her final words ripped into my thoughts. I'd fucking kill Ian Byrne if he touched her. I'd kill him if he hurt her. I'd kill him if something happened to her because she was attempting to get away from him.

Fuck, I was going to kill him for breathing the same air as her.

Marco put a hand on Ant's arm. "Go," he said to me.

This was Marco's way of proving he trusted in my loyalty to him and the family. I would explain once I had Celine safe.

As I rushed from the room, I dialed Emilio. "Can you find a phone?"

"Possibly. Who am I looking for?"

"It's personal."

"Stef, I gave you everything I found on her."

"I need a real time location."

"Are you on any shared apps? Snapchat, WhatsApp? I need an app with location sharing."

"No, and her phone is going to voicemail. No response on text messages."

I heard computer keys clicking as he spoke. "If her phone is off, I can't track it."

"Fuck," I hissed.

He chuckled. "You're intense, Stef. Maybe she's ghosting you. You're not stalking me, and you scare me. Maybe you need to give her some time to get used to you. You're a bit—" He laughed. "No bit about it. You're fucking intimidating."

I lowered my voice. "She's in trouble, Emilio. I don't know— Maybe because of me." The thought of Ian hurting her cut like a knife to my gut.

The laughter died, and Emilio recognized the seriousness in my tone. "I can't track her, but maybe I can get a location on her car. Most newer cars have onboard GPS." More clicking of computer keys. "This will only take a minute. I've been in their system before. Hold on." Clicking keys filled the silence between us. Finally, he said, "The car is in long term parking at the airport. I've got an aerial view pulled up. The car is in a four-level parking structure. It's huge."

It would take hours to search row by row, floor by floor. If she'd gone to the airport, I might already be too late. She could be gone.

"It'll take me some time, but I'll find a way into their security feed. AI can locate every white Subaru in the structure. I'll call you back when I have something."

"I'm heading to the airport now."

I went to my office. Dante leaned back in the chair behind my desk, and Anna sat on the corner, her legs dangling over the side and laughter spilling from her smiling lips.

When he saw me, Dante lunged from his seat, came around the desk, and pulled me into a brotherly hug. I held him tightly, then kissed both his cheeks.

"It's good to see you." I ran my hand along his shoulder. He'd lost a few pounds, but otherwise, he looked healthy.

Carmine came into my office.

"Celebration dinner tonight at Marco's," Anna said.

"Not tonight. I have to go." I shrugged on my leather jacket and patted my pocket for my cigarettes.

"We need to talk to you while you're here," Anna said. "Dante needs access to the building."

"Take care of it," I said to Carmine. With my helmet and keys to my bike in my hand, I spun on my heels and bumped into Giada in the hallway.

"I thought I heard Dante's laugh." It was unmistakable with a robust rumble.

I pushed past her, but she followed me.

"Steven Taylor was here with deposits from the jewelry store." She scrambled after me in her three-inch heels, tight skirt, and tits bouncing. "He'd asked to see you or Marco, but neither of you were available."

"And your point?" I continued toward the elevator. The doors immediately opened when I pressed the button. I stepped inside and turned to her, blocking her from entering with me.

"Because I work with the clients, I need to be able to reach you. You've been unavailable for hours, yet I know you were in the building. Where were you?"

I stood in the elevator, holding the door open with my palm. "Are you worried you're being excluded from family business?" I moved my hand. "If you aren't, you should be," I said as the doors slid closed.

Five minutes later, I was on my bike with my helmet Bluetooth connected with Emilio.

Tension started in my hands, migrated higher and constricted the muscles in my arms as I gripped the handlebars. Leaning over the tank, the tautness rippled along my spine. My legs strained to grip the bike as I pushed past the speed limit, zipping between cars on the Interstate on route to the airport.

A call buzzed into my headpiece. I touched the controls at the edge of my helmet.

"Did you find her?"

"No."

I tamped down my need to take my frustration out on Emilio. "Every minute counts. How long would it take to find out if she booked a flight?" She could still be in the airport.

"Stef, I'm not Google. I can't just pull up information. Companies do the same thing we do, they set up traps for people like me. Some shit is easier to break. Airport security isn't one of them."

I swallowed the acrid taste of bile. "Emilio, Ian is after her. Find her."

"I'm trying. I'm pivoting from site to site. I have another option. I've escalated my privileges in the GPS system."

"What the fuck does that mean? Do we have her location or not?"

"I can remote start her car, activate the onboard system, and make contact. If she's in the car, I can patch you through to her. Give me two minutes. I'll bring you in and connect us on a three-way."

Celine

I had to pee, my stomach growled, and my eyes had nearly swollen shut from all the tears I'd cried. With my seat reclined, I curled onto my side and watched out the window.

After I'd flipped a U-turn, I'd turned at every intersection until I'd hit the interstate. Driving through my tears, I'd ended up at the airport on the back row of the third level of the long-term parking structure.

For the first couple of hours, I reverted to my coping mechanism of making deals with myself and with God. We came to an agreement. I had a plan, but it sucked. I promised to be brave. If my father or Ian Byrne found me, I'd jump from the ledge of the structure.

Another tear slipped from my swollen and bruised eye. My heart crushed under the weight of what that meant. I'd finally be done being afraid. But I wouldn't be here anymore. Never paint again, never feel the sun on my face or the darkness of Stefano's touch.

I couldn't risk turning on my phone. My father could find me with the location app. But if by nightfall they hadn't found me, I'd take my chances inside the airport and call Stefano again. If I made it to Stefano, I'd tell him everything.

Lights flashed on my dashboard. I lurched up, trying to shut down my car. Where was my damn key fob? I must have accidentally hit the button. I scrambled to look underneath me.

"Celine, don't turn off the car. This isn't your emergency system. We're coming for you."

I screamed and unlocked my doors. "I'm not going with you. I'll be dead before you can take me." I shrieked at whoever was coming through my car speakers. "Fuck you." My hands trembled as I jerked on the handle. I was going to be brave. They found me. They were coming for me. I made the deal to jump. Tears swam in my eyes.

"Celine, stay in the car! Hold on. I'll patch Stefano through."

I froze, pulled the door closed, and locked it again. "Who are you? Stefano, are you there?"

"I'm here, Angel."

I covered my face and broke into sobs.

"Where are you?"

"At…at the air…at the airport."

"I know. I'm here."

I sat up and wiped the tears from my eyes, glancing left and right. "Where?"

"In the parking structure. But I don't know where you are."

The pillar across from me had the level and section. "Level three, section G. I'm along the back wall."

"I'm coming for you."

"Don't hang up," I begged. "Don't stop talking."

"I'm on level two," he said. "Tell me you're okay, Angel. Fucking tell me he didn't hurt you."

I started to cry again.

"Fuck. I'm almost there."

I shifted my gaze, watching for him. Finally, a black motorcycle rounded the corner. I threw open the door, untangled from the seatbelt, and fell out of the car. My knees landed hard, and my palm scraped on the concrete floor.

Stefano had his bike stopped, his kickstand down, and his helmet off before I could round the front of the car. He opened his arms, and I threw myself into them. He lifted me, holding me tightly. The warmth of his body cloaked me in safety.

With the simple whispered words, "I've got you," he chased the fear from the corners of my mind and the panic lacing my blood.

"Don't let me go." My legs wrapped around his hips, and I buried my face in his neck, drinking in the scent of his skin and rubbing my cheek against the shadowed whiskers on his face.

His strong hand splayed across my back. Violent tremors racked my body, and silent tears fell from my closed eyes.

Softly spoken Italian words I didn't understand spilled from Stefano's lips. I clung to him, drowning in the emotion of knowing he came for me.

Minutes passed, and he made no attempt to let me go. Finally, I drew in a deep inhale. His arms loosened, and I slid down the muscled contours of his body until my feet touched the ground.

"We need to go," he said.

I vehemently shook my head. "No, we can't. Mr. Byrne is looking for me. Stef, he's crazy. If he finds me, he's going to take me."

His strong fingers cradled my jaw and tipped my face to his, and his gaze swept the bruises and swelling. His eyes darkened into a fiery tempest from hell. "He hit you."

It wasn't a question. Translation wasn't needed for the words he spoke in Italian. The hard line of his jaw, the piercing intensity in his eyes, yet the gentle stroke of his fingers on my face revealed the two sides of this man. Fiercely protective, and savagely brutal.

Stefano would hurt Ian Byrne for touching me.

Staring into his eyes, I accepted that I'd fallen for a dangerous mafioso masquerading as a banker. I didn't care that he carried a gun and wielded a knife. In his arms, I was brave. In his arms, I was safe.

He bent his head and kissed me. A sob escaped from my throat. Skating my hands over his shoulders, I pulled him closer and kissed him deeper. I opened my mouth for a taste of his tongue.

Stefano groaned, his fingers tangled in my mangled braid, and his tongue was in my mouth.

"I need to get you to safety," he said. "Get what you need from the car."

I rushed to my car, turned off the ignition, grabbed my backpack, and slipped it onto my back.

"I need to pee," I said as he pushed my hair away from my face and slid the helmet onto my head.

He smiled, handed me his gloves, and lifted the face shield. "Can you wait a few more minutes. I want to get us out of the area now that Emilio has activated the GPS on your car. Byrne could be doing the same thing I did to find you."

"I was going to call you again during the night. There's no one else I trust."

Stefano climbed onto the bike and slipped on his sunglasses. I mounted up behind him, lowered the helmet visor, and wrapped my arms around his waist. The engine vibrated between my legs. Oh my god, I really had to pee.

Once we exited the parking structure, Stefano went through the prepaid terminal, and then accelerated onto the Interstate. Unlike when he rode me through the city, he rolled the throttle and raced into the evening. Everything became a blur as he picked up speed.

Five minutes later, a computerized voice speaking Italian filled the helmet. I held tightly to Stefano's leather jacket with one hand and patted his shoulder. He slowed the bike and put his hand over mine.

I tapped the helmet. "I think someone is calling you," I hollered through the visor.

He nodded, touched the left side of his face, and pointed to me. I ran my hand along the edge of the helmet, bumped against the controls, and answered the call on his Bluetooth.

"Hello," I said into the helmet.

"Celine?"

It was the voice from my car's onboard GPS.

"Yes. Stefano is pulling off the interstate."

Stefano took the next exit and rode the bike around to the side of the truck stop.

As soon as the bike stopped, I jumped off, ripped the helmet from my head, and tossed it to Stefano. "Someone is on the phone."

I rushed into the convenience store and raced into the restroom. Ah, sweet relief. By the time I finished, Stefano was waiting for me.

"Ready?" He held his hand out to me, and I linked our fingers.

I stared at his profile as we walked back to his motorcycle. I didn't know what to do. Did I ask him to let me hide in his apartment? My train wreck life had gone off the rails and crashed head-on into his.

I wouldn't let the wreckage kill us both. My father and Ian Byrne had enemies. They'd made one in me. I had an insurance policy of proof.

***

I loosened my hold on Stefano as he approached the gate of a massive estate just outside of the city. Men with guns acknowledged Stefano with a nod. He pulled alongside of the house.

I dismounted, peeled off his gloves, and lifted the helmet from my head. "Where are we?"

"My brother's house," he said as he led me around to the rear of the property. A myriad of colorful flowers hung from baskets throughout the manicured grounds. More flowers followed a path that led from the main house to a small guesthouse in the distance.

Evening sunlight reflected off the blue waters of the swimming pool. Patio furniture clustered around the firepit, and there was more seating near the outdoor kitchen.

I pushed my hair away from my face. "I don't want to meet your family." I was a mess. My face was bruised, my hair was in tangles, and my eyes were red and swollen.

"You're safe here." He held my hand in his. "The men inside would never betray me. They're expecting us. I had Emilio call for the meeting. If you can't trust them. Trust me."

I stepped into him and rested my forehead against the muscled wall of his chest. "What if I panic?"

"I won't leave your side." He kissed the top of my head. "We're in this together, Angel." He helped me slip my backpack off, then he carried it in his left hand. With his right, he opened the door.

Conversation from inside the room stopped. Several men turned toward us. One man stood out among the rest. He had the same whiskey-colored eyes as Stefano, but not the build. He was leaner, more refined, exuding power and intimidation. His gaze focused on me as he sipped a tumbler of amber colored liquid.

I stepped closer to Stefano. His hand slid onto my lower back. "Celine, my brother, Marco. Don of the Bruno family."

Marco Bruno. Italian mafia."Your brother?" I whispered, trying to keep from revealing the fear running hot and toxic through my veins. Stefano had listened to my voicemail. He knew this was the man Ian Byrne wanted dead.

Another man sat in a chair, tipped on its back legs to rest against the wall. A smile tugged at his mouth. "Stef, you've been keeping secrets."

"Not now, Knox."

Stefano flexed his fingers on my waist. "Antonio De Napoli," he said of the man who scolded Knox. "Call him Ant."

The piercing cold intensity in his eyes sent a shiver over my flesh. He glowered, his massive shoulders stiff with tension, and his arms crossed over his muscular chest. I inched even closer to Stefano.

Stef pointed to the others in the room. "My youngest brother, Orlando. Carmine, my best friend."

Another man sat on the couch. He'd stared at me since I walked into the house. He was young, closer to my age.

"And that's Emilio. He found you."

Tears filled my eyes. I couldn't speak. Anything I said would be inadequate.

Emilio rubbed a hand over his head, pushing his shaggy hair from his face.

Marco approached me and handed me a handkerchief from his pocket. "Come, sit down." He pointed to the space on the couch. "Emilio has told me your District Attorney Moreau's daughter."

Stefano had to be able to feel the trembling in my body as I pressed against him.

Carmine stood from the recliner. "Here, take my seat."

Orlando went into an adjacent room and returned with a kitchen table chair. He set it next to the recliner.

"Thank you." I sat, and Stefano positioned next to me, rested his forearm on the arm of the chair, and kept his fingers laced with mine.

Marco sat on the coffee table in front of me. He set his drink to the side and steepled his fingers between his widespread thighs. "This isn't an interrogation," he said. "But I'm going to be blunt in my questions. How do you know the head of the Irish mafia wants me dead?"

There was never any question that I was safer with a den of rattlesnakes than I was with my father. I didn't know these men. I didn't really know the one sitting next to me, but today, I had chosen a side. I'd made a deal with myself while sitting in my car, and now, I was here.

I'd tell them anything and everything they wanted to know.

If Stefano hadn't come for me, my father's crimes would go unpunished because I wouldn't be here. Stefano was a mafia banker. However, all of these men were intimidating. If Mr. Byrne wanted Marco dead, he must be a threat. That made him dangerous. I needed dangerous men to go against my father. They seemed to want in on the fight.

"I heard him on the phone," I began. "I only heard half of the conversation. Not much of it makes sense to me. But after today, I know my father sold me as some kind of payment to Ian Byrne, but I don't know what debt he owed." I explained about the gala, the painting, meeting Stefano, and the internship.

"It's your painting in Stef's apartment?" Carmine asked. "It's dope but dark."

I tried to tell Carmine thank you for liking my painting with a small smile, but my lips weren't cooperating. The room was ripe with intimidation.

"Shut the fuck up," Ant said. "I want to know when the Irish are going to make a play for Marco."

"I didn't hear him say anything about the how or when," I said to Marco. To Stefano, I said, "But I think that might have something to do with you working at the bank."

Ant reeked of aggressiveness. Whereas Marco simmered with an ominous calmness. If I had to be honest, it was the man next to me that was hardest to read. He was a black canvas, a complicated composition buried under conflicting emotions and hard edges.

"What did he say about me?" Stefano asked. He let go of my hand and pulled his cigarettes from his pocket.

"He was mad that he only had a few weeks to do something when he was expecting he'd have months." I closed my eyes and tried to replay the conversation in my mind. "Whoever was on the phone works for Ian Byrne. He said the Bruno account was his responsibility."

"Who the fuck is he working with?" Ant stood and whispered something to Marco. He didn't believe me. I could feel the mistrust like a hard freeze, all the way to my bones. I tried to squash the worry worming through my gut.

"I don't know who was one the phone, but he called a woman incompetent," I said. "I thought he was talking about me. I've been doing everything I can to get fired. The internship is a farce." I lowered my head. "My father set me up."

"Guess he thought you were too timid to fight back." Stefano smiled around his cigarette, flicked his Zippo, and inhaled.

I couldn't tell lies from the truth. "Ian claims I'm married to him, but I'm not. I promise." I lowered my voice. "I haven't lied," I said to Stefano. "I only want to be with you."

Stefano rubbed his thumb over my knuckles as he held my hand. "I've got you."

Orlando snickered behind me.

Stefano surged to his feet and spun toward his brother. A vein in his temple pulsed. "Do you have something to contribute?"

"You're just proving you have a soft side." Orlando winked at me. "He only looks like a killer. He's really a kitten."

"Ignore Orlando," Carmine said. "He rarely contributes anything worth listening to."

Emilio laughed. "That's why he's in a relationship with Amazon Alexa. She's the only one who listens to him."

"And she does exactly what I ask. If I could get her to suck my—"

"Enough," Ant snapped. "Christ, could you take this any less seriously?"

Stefano sat down again, leaned forward, and braced his forearms on his thighs. "What does he gain by marrying you?"

"All I have is my trust fund. Mr. Byrne doesn't need my money." Both my father and Mr. Byrne were wealthy. "My father owes him for something. He said I was payment for my father's debt. How could Ian marry me without my permission? I mean, aren't there laws against that?"

"Ian Byrne operates outside of the law," Marco said.

Stef bowed his head. "I had Emilio check county records in states with proxy marriage laws."

"I'm sorry," Emilio said. "You were married six weeks ago. As a resident of Montana, a special proxy license was issued. You're legally Byrne's wife."

Stefano and Ant stared at each other.

"Don't worry," Stefano said. "Ian's playing a deadly game. We'll make you a widow."

A lump formed in my throat. My father killed. Ian killed. Would Stefano kill? For me? A marriage could be annulled, and Stefano was a banker. However, Ian had threatened the head of the Italian mafia, and I could see the deadly intent in Ant's eyes. Like staring down the barrel of a gun, he would kill.

"Where were you when you heard the conversation?" Marco asked.

"In the hall outside his office. The door was open, and he was angry."

"Does he know you overheard him?"

I nodded. "We were going to lunch when he trapped me in the car."

"Something must have changed his timetable," Carmine said.

"I'm always uncomfortable around him. Today was worse. He kept putting his hands on me."

Stefano's knee bounced as he listened to me retell the details of the conversation. His mouth pulled into a hard line. He stared at the floor and wouldn't look at me. When I spoke about the threats of what his guards would do to me, Stefano pulled his knife from his waistband. He ran his thumb over the dull edge of the blade.

"Do you know the names of those guards?"

I stared at the knife and swallowed. "Aiden and Finn."

Marco turned to Knox.

"Aiden Doyle and Finn Clarke. Both worked for Patrick. If they're supporting Ian, then he's taken total control. If Patrick isn't dead, he's fucked up. Those guys wouldn't turn on Patrick." Knox pivoted his question to me. "Did you meet a guy named Ryan?"

I shook my head. "Ian kept me with him at all times when I was at Briofagan."

And I'd hung on his words, memorized his passwords, and added his secrets to my notebook. A notebook hidden in my room. Possible scenarios rolled like rapid fire through my brain.

Shit. Shit. Shit.One possibility. If my dad packed my room, he'd find the notebook, read it, and dispose of me like he did my mother.

Two, if Ian sent his thugs to the house, they'd pack the room, find the notebook, and… I didn't want to think of what Ian would do to me. He'd threatened enough in the car to know I'd rather jump from the third level of a parking structure than endure the life he had planned for me.

The third possibility would be just as devastating. The notebook would end up packed, unnoticed, and disposed of. My evidence, my freedom would be gone.

My heart slammed against my ribs. My breath came in small, sharp hits. Sometimes, my panic attacks came on like a flash flood of fear and confusion, and sometimes, the waters rose so slowly that I didn't realize I was drowning until I couldn't breathe.

I was drowning.

Pressure gripped my chest and squeezed, my lungs hungered for air, and the voices in the room began to blur. Time slowed. Where was my purse?

Pink lip gloss, pink phone, pink pen.My backpack. My gaze darted around the room searching for it, but there were only powerful Italian mafia men. Men like my father. Men like Ian Byrne. Men hungry for power…at any cost.

"Angel, look at me." Amber eyes stared into mine. "It's okay. Breathe with me." Stefano put my hand on his chest and rested his hand on my heart.

"Is she okay?" Emilio asked. "Should I get her a drink or something?"

"She's having a panic attack." Stefano rubbed his thumb over my knuckles. "She's just overwhelmed."

"Does she smoke? I'll roll her a joint," Orlando said. "Or just give her an edible."

"You're not getting my girl high." Stefano leaned closer. "Just take a moment to breathe. I've got you."

I released a shuddering exhale. "This might all be my fault," I whispered. What if Ian already knew what I'd done? A few times I'd jotted information on a sticky note and slipped it into my shoe. "I have an insurance policy."

Stefano sat back on his heels, a confused pinch to his forehead and furrowed brows.

I wanted to negotiate with myself. I was going to tell Stefano about the notebook, but I didn't want him to be angry. I wanted him to help me get it back before it was too late. But I'd run out of things I could bargain with. He was all I had left.

"I have a notebook of names, dates, passwords, accounts. I don't know what most of it means, but it wouldn't matter. It would be enough to prove corruption. I call it my insurance policy. I was going to blackmail my dad with it.

"I started a page on Mr. Byrne. There are only a couple names. I would've added Marco's name to the book. And Edmond Caruso."

"Fuck." Stefano spun toward Marco. "Edmond Story and Dante Caruso."

Marco cursed, and a slew of Italian poured from his mouth. "Knox, take your crew and get me Edmond Story. Bring him to the bank. Where is Dante? He needs protection."

"He's moving into my building with Anna."

Ant growled. "No fucking way."

"Relax. He's not fucking her," Carmine said. "He's taking the unit next to hers."

"Don't say shit like that about her. She needs to be here." Ant chain smoked another cigarette.

Marco approached me. He rested a hand on Stefano's shoulder, and he stepped aside. "Where is the notebook?" he asked me.

"Hidden in my room." I turned to Stefano. "We have to get it tonight. Ian is having all of my stuff moved to his place. We might already be too late."

"You're not going," Stefano said. "I'm not letting those fucks anywhere near you. Tell me where it is, and I'll get it."

"My dad is the DA if you're caught, you're screwed."

"By now, he'll have every cop in the city looking for you." Stefano wrapped his arms around me and pulled me flush against his chest. "What do you think Byrne will do if he finds you?"

I lifted my face to his. "No one knows I'm with you. We can't wait. My dad might not even be home."

"And if he is?"

"I don't know. Maybe we have to wait until he's asleep."

"Stef, go with her to get the notebook," Marco said. "Take Carmine with you."

"Is your bike here?" Stefano asked him.

"Yeah, let's go."

"I need to call Marie." Another negotiation. Marie wasn't blind to my father's faults. She loved him, but she loved me more. I think—I hope. She might not want to leave him, but she'd hate him once she learned the truth about him. Maybe.

I spotted my backpack by the door. I stood and grabbed it while Marco continued to speak with Stefano. I dug to the bottom, found my phone, and stood with it in my hand. I debated turning it on. My father had tracking on it.

Stefano came up beside me and covered my hand with his. "Don't use it."

I nodded and handed it to him.

He gave the phone to Emilio who popped the sim card out and then handed the phone back to Stefano. He dropped it to the ground and crushed it under the heel of his boot.

Stefano handed me his. "Call her. I'll get you a new phone. Let's go."