7. Gia

Saland I stare at the computer screen for a solid ten seconds before either one of us speaks. The video cuts out right after Marco and the unidentified Irish woman hold hands, so when we finally do speak again, it's to the blank computer screen that's reflecting our shocked expressions.

"I told you he wasn't dead."

I throw up my hands and walk away. "Seriously Sal? That's what you're getting out of this?"

He shrugs. "I'm just saying."

"You're saying nothing! That's not the point! Where the hell is he? Why is he holding hands with that woman? And who the fuck is she?"

Questions swirl in my mind like dust from the explosion at the restaurant.

I have no idea what's going on. Marco dropped off the face of the fucking earth. He has no right to be sitting in a pub in Ireland, looking like a happy honeymooner.

He's going to fucking wish he was dead by the time I find him.

All the heartbreak Marco caused his family. All the heartbreak Marco caused me, looking for him. The way he totally fucked Elio over and left him to cover up his own disappearance.

He's so, so dead when I find him.

I walk away, pacing back and forth as I consider the options. "We have to find him. He's either gone rogue or he's been kidnapped, and either way, we need to fucking wrap up the end he's leaving loose."

Sal doesn't respond, so I continue. "I definitely think the pub is Irish. Scottish pubs feel more modern, and English pubs have soccer shit everywhere. They're definitely somewhere in Ireland, which is of course perfect because that's where our now mortal enemies live.

"Who do we know in Ireland, Sal? Who took over after we killed MacAntyre? Who…"

Instead of answering my questions, he interrupts me. "The woman looks like the one from the club in Prague."

Slowly, I turn to look at him. "What?"

"She looks like the woman from the club. Don't you think?"

"I didn't get a good look at her."

"Oh. Really?" he tilts his head.

No. OF course, I didn't get a good look at the woman in Prague when she blew past us, because I was too shocked by the feeling of Sal's body next to mine. Even if I had seen her, there's absolutely no way that I would remember it.

All I can remember is the feel of Sal's body next to mine in that dark corner.

All I can think about is the lust that punched through me then, and that fills my body with a simmering desire now.

"No. I didn't get a good look at her because your giant shoulders were blocking my view," I snap instead.

Sal's eyebrows go up. "Giant shoulders?"

"Yes. Giant. Like the size of a bull or something. Honestly, did you, like, crawl into a vat of HGH as a child?"

"Gia. Don't be rude."

I sigh. It was a little too far but I'm not willing to admit it yet. "I'm not being rude, but you have to admit that you're a very large person."

"And you have to admit you're being very rude for a human who I could squish under my shoes."

"Sal," I say, admonishing him.

"Gia."

"What the hell was that?"

He frowns and shakes his head, looking back at the computer. "Marco is alive."

"If he's alive, why hasn't he tried to come back?"

That's the million-dollar question.

Sure, Marco is alive. He's even doing well, it seems.

He certainly appears whole and hearty compared to how he looked when I last saw him at Caterina and Elio's…. well. The time that Marco handed Caterina over to Elio in order to try and plant her as a spy.

Laughable.

Caterina is capable and smart, but she's hardly a spy.

Still, the move brought me my favorite sister-in-law, so I'm not complaining.

Marco, however, had clearly been unhappy about the situation. Back then, he'd looked gaunt, like he hadn't slept in weeks.

This Marco looks well rested.

He's handsome, of course, like they all are. However, his whole ‘older brother' thing made him too similar to Elio to ever really be attractive to me.

But this Marco?

He's glowing. I could see why the woman across the table from him is also somewhat resplendent… they both have a kind of aura around them. Two people, in love.

Maybe.

It could all just be an act.

Also, there's no guarantee that the people in the video are alive after this. It could be that whoever sent the video also kidnapped them right after and they're strung up in an Irish basement somewhere, bleeding out while Sal and I argue about how large he is.

Fuck.

"Gia?"

I glance at Sal. "Yeah?"

"What are we going to do about this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Marco's alive," he says quietly.

"Yeah. But he doesn't seem to be in any kind of immediate danger."

He shakes his head. "We don't know that."

Fuck. I should know better. Sal and I work so well as a team, it's almost like we share one brain.

I should have known that he would be thinking the same thing I am.

"I know. But presumably, whoever sent us this video wants us to know that he's well."

"Who would send it?"

I shrug. "No fucking clue."

"If it was the Russians and they wanted to make a statement because they think we killed their people…"

"Then we'd be dead. Russians don't make subtle threats like that," I sigh.

They're much more shoot and ask questions later type of people.

"Not to mention, no one knows we"re here." I look at Sal meaningfully. "Unless someone knows about this place?"

"I've already told you, Gia. No one knows."

"Then how did they know to send us the video here?"

He shakes his head. "Unless we're being followed…"

My phone rings, snapping us out of the unpleasant sensation that we are likely being watched. "Elio," I say, opening the call.

"Well, it's nice to know you're alive."

Shit.

"I was just about to call you," I say breezily.

"You should have called me as soon as you did not die in an explosion, Gia. I was two seconds from sending Luca to scrape pieces of you off of the streets of Amsterdam."

"Luca's going to appreciate the fact he won't have to do that. How's Sara doing?"

"Gia. What the hell happened?"

I glance over at Sal and I put the phone on speaker. He comes behind me and leans over me. The smell of him…

I brush off the goosebumps.

"Elio."

"Sal," Elio responds. "I trust you're the reason my sister isn't painted over the pavement?"

"I'm the reason she's safe now," he responds.

Okay, that seems a little rich. Neither one of us knew about the bomb prior to it going off.

But he did pull me out of the canal.

And he did get me into the bathtub.

Shivers break out on my spine.

"I'm fine, Elio. The Russians are fucking dead though."

"So I hear. It is assumed that you two are dead as well."

Sal and I exchange a glance and I grimace. "Sorry brother. Didn't know it would come back on you like that."

"Word travels fast, especially in a small community."

The global network of hardened criminals that we belong to is hardly a small community, but I let that slide.

"Who told you?"

"Who do you think?"

I grit my teeth. "The Irish are turning out to be a fucking problem."

"That they are, Gia."

"What's the word on the street?"

"That you're dead, the Irish are proudly claiming their involvement, and they're expecting a joint retaliation from the Russians and us."

I look up at Sal. "They think we're dead?"

"Si."

Interesting. "Let them think we're dead."

"Gia?"

I look over at Sal. He's studying me, and after a while, he nods. "Yes," he whispers.

I turn back to the phone. "Let them think we're dead. It helps us out a little."

"In what way?"

"Dear brother. Please never underestimate the element of surprise."

"You are quite good at that. And with your recent public appearance, it's also significantly harder to hide. You're well known, Gia. You can't exactly sneak around Europe without someone recognizing you."

"That won't be a problem," I smile at Sal.

He frowns.

"Even if that's the case, what are you going to do? What's the purpose?"

"There's been… some other information that we found in Prague about the Irish. All of this feels too… planned for them. They're definitely the type to retaliate, but something else is going on. Sal and I are going to figure out what it is."

Elio is quiet for a second. "Gia. They're going to expect some kind of reply. If it's not written in blood, we're going to be seen as weak."

I know what he's worried about. If the world of the mafia thinks the Rossi family is weak, then they'll come for us.

Piece by piece, they'll carve parts of our empire off, until there's nothing left of us. Like a whale carcass at the bottom of the ocean, everyone with a machete will come to take a piece of us.

A big part of safety in this world is the illusion of power. As long as you're seen as powerful, the lie can be held for as long as you need to.

You can get away with a hell of a lot of people just thinking you're going to wreak havoc on them wherever you go.

If they think they're dead, though, Sal and I can do the scariest thing imaginable.

No one expects us to come back from the dead.

"They won't,' I assure him. "There's an Irish bar in Pittsburgh that has close ties to the gang. Take it out to send a message, and Sal and I will work on some stuff here."

"Stuff?"

"Trust me, Elio," I murmur.

He's silent for a minute, then sighs. "I always do."

"Love you," I say quickly.

"Love you too, sister."

The line goes dead.

I look at Sal.

He's smiling at me slightly. "Scariest thing imaginable?"

I grin. "Come on. You've never seen a zombie movie? If they think we can't be killed, that kind of takes the steam out of killing us."

"But we can be killed, Gia."

"That's the type of negative thinking that will get you demoted, De Luca."

He sighs. "Fine. What's your plan then?"

My smile grows. "Got any investment houses in Ireland?"

* * *

Five hours later,we have passports, bags, and clothes, and we're on the train to Copenhagen. From Copenhagen, we'll board a jet to Dublin, and go from there.

It's going into the heart of enemy territory, sure.

But it's not like we haven't done this before.

Sal is sitting across from me in the train car. He booked private, of course, cashing out some of the funds that I presume he's collected as the manager of a small real estate empire. I still can't get over the fact that Sal is as rich as God.

And he never told me about it.

He doesn't owe me that, I guess. It's not like I asked him to share his life story with me, or really for us to be something to each other at all.

Still…

Sal's closer to me than anyone. Closer than Caterina. Closer than Elio, even. He understands me in a way that I don't have to explain.

It's like having an echo.

When I move, Sal moves.

When I speak, he listens.

When I have a plan, he's already making it happen.

By the time we're at the airport, I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't notice when he tenses.

Until his hand snakes out and grabs my wrist.

"Fuck."

"Sal?"

He wraps an arm around me, sheltering me from the bustling crowd by the ticket counters. "We need to go."

"Why?"

"Our faces are on an Interpol bulletin."

Shit. Shit.

"How? Why?"

I want to turn and see if I can locate our faces on the Interpol screens at the security checkpoint ahead, but Sal is already steering me out of the building.

"They're saying that we bombed the building in Amsterdam."

"Do they have our real names?"

He glances back. "No. no names. Just pictures."

"Shit."

It's not too bad. If our identification doesn't list us as Salvatore De Luca and Gianna Rossi, we can still pull this off.

"What pictures did you use for our passports?"

"Two of the ones we had on file."

"How similar do we look to the pictures Interpol has up?"

He pauses. "Very."

Fuck.

"Let's go. We need makeup and you need a wig."

"You don't?"

I sigh. "You know that I'm better at this than you are, Sal. Might as well own it."

He grabs my elbow and steers me gently out of the airport. With my sunglasses on and the Gucci scarf covering my hair, we can walk by the police without worrying too much about them.

Plus. Confidence is half the battle.

"Drugstore," I whisper.

I have no idea what drugstore is in Danish, but I'm assuming that Sal at least has some kind of working knowledge.

Sure enough, he pulls me into a sad-looking corner store. Inside, I buy makeup and some hair extensions, which Sal pays for in cash.

"When did you have time to grab Euros?"

"Why do you need to know all my tricks," he whispers.

God, I'd love to know all of his tricks.

"Follow me."

We slip into the back room when the teenage employee turns their back. I quickly take the scarf off and dig through my makeup bag.

"Did you use the pictures that you can change quickly?"

"Yes," Sal says.

"Good. We'll take new pictures after I put the disguise on and change. What did you say our names were?" I'm hopeful those can at least be salvaged as part of our new identities.

"Mr. Armando Bianchi and Mrs. Elena Bianchi."

I look up at him. "So you went for the married couple thing after all."

Sal's smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "I figured it made sense."

Which part? The part where it was a good idea…

Or the part where it made sense for us to show up looking married?

I shake off the thought "Let's do this."

He leans down, and I start to apply makeup. This close, Sal's face is…

Goddamn it.

He's so handsome it makes my chest hurt.

His lips. His eyebrows. The way his jaw is so strong, the muscle in his cheek that twitches when he's mad. I don't want to put makeup on him for a disguise.

I want to touch the surfaces of his face, memorizing them as I lean in for a kiss.

"Gia?"

I glance at his eyes. "What?"

"Why are you staring?"

I gulp.

I look up at him.

And when I meet his eyes, my heart slams into my ribs.