21. Chapter Twenty-One

There’s a black SUV in her driveway, parked behind her Camaro.

I force myself to drive up the street at a crawl’s pace, surveying the surroundings, looking for other vehicles parked close by or men lurking in the shadows. When I see no sign of anything out of the ordinary, I pull into an empty spot against the curb, four houses down from Sophie’s.

My heart’s pounding, and my hands clench the steering wheel so tight my knuckles are white. If Romano has hurt her, he’s going to die the slowest, most painful death possible. I imagine cutting the man apart piece by piece, starting with the least vital pieces… toes and fingers, ears and eyelids. Then I’ll work my way inward, keeping him alive and conscious the whole time with shots of epinephrine.

He’ll beg me for death long before I’ve finished with him.

I get out of my car as Dante pulls in behind me. A chuckle escapes me, the irony not lost even in the gravity of the moment. What about ‘give me a head start’ doesn’t the guy get? I’m too weary to pick bones with him, though.

He gets out of his Porsche and follows me as I creep closer. Neither of us speaks; we’re both keeping to the shadows, listening for the muffled sounds of Sophie’s screams.

The knot in my chest tightens, a storm of emotions threatening to burst. It’s taking all my restraint to keep from running blindly into her house, consequences be damned.

The faint squeak of a door hits me like a thunderclap; it’s Sophie’s door. I’ve heard it often enough now to recognize it, to pick it out from the chirrup of crickets and the whir of distant traffic.

I pause behind an old oak tree and peer around it, gun in hand. I imagine Romano dragging her from her house, hands bound, black bag over her head. I’ll fucking destroy him.

But it isn’t Romano who steps out onto Sophie’s front porch, not one of Romano’s men at all.

It’s Cade.

My insides begin to sigh in relief, and I can feel Dante taking the cue and following suit, the stiff set of his shoulders loosening until Sophie and two others follow Cade out her front door.

Maria and Victoria.

“What the fuck?” I whisper under my breath because for one blissful second, my mind is blank. It can’t compute what it’s seeing.

And then that second passes and everything I’ve come to believe about the woman I love goes up in smoke.

“She betrayed me,” the words escape me, a whisper of disbelief and hurt. The rush here, fueled by fear and the need to protect, now feels like a fool’s errand. She’s stabbed me in the back.

“Nico,” Dante objects, shaking his head. “You don’t know that.”

It’s the Urban Elixir all over again, and I’m sitting across from Leo, discovering that my best friend is a traitor. But this is worse because I knew better, and I still let her in.

“I let my guard down,” I seethe, even angrier with myself than with her.

Dante shakes his head, though his eyes are wary. “You shouldn’t—”

“Stay here,” I cut him off, not wanting to hear any excuses. Then I creep closer.

My heart races as I observe the scene, piecing together the bitter truth. There is only one reason for Sophie to be passing Maria and her daughter off to Cade Quinn: she’s been working with the feds all along to get Maria into witness protection.

I trusted Sophie with Maria’s location while she never gave up any information she had about Maria. And now Leo’s wife has been retrieved from my protection and offered a deal by the FBI.

I wait for the flood of anger, for the potent need for retribution to crash over me, for the urge to make her pay for what she’s done, to block out everything else. But it doesn’t come. Instead, a strange mix of hurt and relief courses through me—relief that she’s safe from Romano. I move behind a tall mass of bushes, close enough to hear the exchange going on, clinging to a vain hope that I’ve misunderstood the situation.

“Cade’s going to escort you,” Sophie’s voice breaks through, her words gentle, reassuring. “Tell him everything, Maria. It could make all the difference.”

Maria’s gratitude is palpable, even from a distance. “Thank you, Sophie.”

“I’m happy to help,” Sophie replies as she hugs Maria once more and then helps Victoria up into the back seat of the SUV.

So, it’s true. Sophie’s words confirm it. I have a clear shot of Cade. But do I take it? No. Because I fucking gave that woman my word that I wouldn’t hurt him, even if he’s about to destroy me.

Dante never made such a promise, though.

I head back to Dante as Cade climbs into the SUV’s driver’s seat. Dante’s watching me; I can practically feel the words on the tip of his tongue, but I shake my head.

“Follow the SUV,” I tell him before he can get a word out. The tone of my voice brooks no argument.

He nods. “Why am I following?” he asks—a fair question.

“Quinn’s all yours. Make it quick, painless, and mess-free. But first, find out where he’s taking them.”

“You got it, fratello,” Dante responds, a hint of resolve in his tone as he heads to his car.

As Cade drives off, I look back to see Sophie standing at the front step, waving goodbye. She then disappears inside, oblivious to the storm brewing just beyond her doorstep.

Dante’s Porsche purrs to life, shadowing the SUV discreetly.

I look around, searching for any sign of Romano—because some stupid, fucked-up part of me still feels the need to protect Sophie. But there’s no sign of him. I shake my head at myself, contemplating my next move, but there is only one move: Sophie Kellan is going to answer for what she’s done.

My footsteps thud across the pavement as I stride along the sidewalk to her house. My movements are no longer stealthy; I don’t give a flying fuck if she hears me coming. In fact, I think I’d prefer it.

I make it to the front step and raise my hand to knock, but I hesitate, my knuckles a hair’s breadth from the wood.

Do you really think she did this? The dumbass in my brain objects as it throws up memories of the woman inside, one after another after another, none of which correspond with a cold-hearted bitch.

But Leo hadn’t struck me as a traitor either.

And with the memory of my friend’s betrayal fresh in mind, I knock on the door, three sharp raps.

The moment she begins to open the door, I’m ready. I shove my foot into the opening, force the door open wider, and step inside.

“Nico!” Relief washes over her features. Joy. Longing. Love? She looks…excited to see me.

Fucking actress.

“Thank God! I’ve been wanting to speak to you—”

I cut her off, seething. “You lied to me.”

She blinks in confusion. There’s no guilt etched across her face, nothing to suggest she feels an iota of remorse for what she’s done.

“You betrayed me,” I go on, pressing my point, expecting her to wilt under the accusation.

Yet, Sophie’s reaction isn’t one of defeat. For a fleeting moment, she’s bewildered, as if trying to piece together a puzzle. Then, as understanding—or the semblance of it—dawns on her, her attitude shifts.

“What? Oh, no, Nico, you’ve got it all wrong. Please, let me explain about Maria—”

My patience snaps. “I’m not interested in hearing your lies! What the fuck do you take me for?”

Her initial flinch at my raised voice quickly gives way to anger. Her cheeks flush and shoulders square. She stands up taller. “I took you for a friend—much more than a friend, actually. I thought you trusted me. I hoped you saw a partner in me. Apparently, I was wrong.”

“Just so you know, Cade Quinn is a dead man, and that’s on you. And—”

Her fury cuts me off as she pushes up on the balls of her feet and gets in my face. “You wouldn’t fucking dare lay a finger on my brother, Domenico Vitelli. I swear to God I will hunt you down if you so much as breathe in his direction, do you hear me?”

I’ve made grown men piss their pants with little more than a look. But this is Sophie, and traitor or not, her spine is made of pure steel.

Her defiance stirs something in me: a twisted admiration. I am confounded by how I can still feel this much for her, even now while her betrayal is fresh. I force myself to focus on the hurt and rage.

“I assured you Maria and Victoria were safe,” I bite out in an icy voice. “Still, you went behind me and put their lives back at risk. What was it, Sophie? My methods didn’t suit you, or you were just looking for an excuse to push me away so you can keep on living in your fucking black and white box’?”

“Stop being a jackass, Nico,” she shoots back.

“What, you can let a criminal fuck you, but you can’t stand it if he loves you?” I taunt, “You can’t let yourself love him back?”

Her eyes flare a second before her palm flies toward my face, but my reflexes are quick, and I catch it.

“You’re a blind, pig-headed jack-hole. I tried to tell you! I didn’t want to do this. But I did it for Maria and Victoria, and I did it for you, Nico—which, it turns out, was a dumb move.”

“You tried to tell me?” I say as a flicker of uncertainty flits through my brain. “Tell me what? Why the fuck are you even involved in the first place? This has nothing to do with you.”

She scoffs, a sheen of tears appearing in her eyes. She snatches her hand loose, and she turns away from me as if she suddenly cant bear the sight of me.

“Check your fucking phone. Or here’s an even better idea: answer the damn phone next time.”

“But why on earth would you think it was okay to do what you did? To involve Cade of all people? I have a whole army of soldiers here you could call, and Maria has guards in Cozumel.”

She whirls on me. “None of whom I have access to! I don’t even have your brother’s number for Chrissake. And why should I? I’m just the hot piece of ass you’re—”

“That’s enough!” I bark, my voice echoing off the walls. I can’t let her finish that demeaning sentence. “Don’t you ever say that again.”

Eyes blazing, she turns on her heels and storms off through the living room and down the hallway.

“Sophie! Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Fuck off, Nico. I don’t ever want to see you again.” Her bedroom door slams shut a moment later.

Then the house is silent, a painful, potent kind of silence. Until George waddles out of the kitchen and starts doing circles around my feet.

“A spitfire with a spine of steel and a ridiculous pet,” I say, shaking my head at him. “She really had me fooled, didn’t she?”

I sigh, pet the duck, then step outside and close the door behind me. I feel heavier as I walk back to my car, like the weight on my shoulders I’ve been carrying for so long has settled back on them.

I hadn’t even realized I’d felt lighter these past few weeks, but the weight is back now. I get in my car and drive off with no particular destination in mind while the standoff with Sophie plays over in my head.

She’d looked so fucking sincere. Angry as hell… but sincere. And hurt. She was crying.

I drive around for what feels like hours but it may have been ten or fifteen minutes, until the thoughts swirling in my head start to coalesce into one simple clause.

Check your fucking phone. Check your fucking phone. Check your fucking phone.

I pull off onto the shoulder of the road and shift the gear into park.

I reach for it from my jacket pocket only to discover it’s not there. I gave it to Dante to call Fredo Batti. Fucking wonderful.

I run my hand down my face and stare at the dark road, playing a game of tug-of-war in my head. But the war’s pointless. I can feel it in my fingers long before I rev the engine. I know the U-turn I’m about to make before I make it. And I can see the short, solar lamp-lit walk to her front step long before I make the trek along it. But let’s face it; that’s where I’m headed.

I may just be the stupidest man on earth. Because I believe her.