“You’re asking me that again. In front of everyone here?” Enzo’s father slid his hand down the column of his throat, his back to the bay window. The water was calm today. The sky clear. And yet, the storm was in the room.
“Well?” Constantine stood from behind the desk, his arms locking across his chest. Despite being in battle last night, he was in a three-piece suit.
Enzo reached for my hand and threaded our fingers together, sensing my unease, and maybe I shouldn’t have been in the room, but I refused to leave his side when I knew he needed me.
“I told you last night I had nothing to do with her death, and I’m telling you the same now,” Mr. Costa seethed, clearly upset at his sons for pressing him. “But now that we know someone in the Brambilla family hired the cleaner, I’ll do everything in my power to find out who and why. And I’ll kill them myself.”
Enzo’s grip on my hand tightened as he turned toward the door, and I followed his gaze to see Alessandro there in cargo pants and a black tee. “You have her things?”
Alessandro nodded. “The boxes are in the safe room in case we need them.” He pocketed his hands, leaning against the wall by the door. He looked worn out, like a man who’d fought all night long. And, well, he had. “Where’s Hudson?”
“He’s working on a few contingency plans. Making calls,” Constantine spoke up, and his cryptic words meant I’d be in the dark on that.
I’d never seen Constantine even slightly off-kilter, and he looked like he was ready to throw the laptop now. His facial muscles were locked tight, and his body screamed, Fuck around and find out.
“The Brambillas are ten times more powerful than they were thirteen years ago, and you know they’d love nothing more than a reason to come after us,” Alessandro said, which meant Constantine must’ve given him the heads-up before he’d arrived that the list had been decrypted.
Decrypted? Yeah, not a word I’d ever thought would roll through my thoughts. I was still in Mickey Mouse and Bubble Guppies territory back home.
Enzo released my hand to go for his phone and then shared, “Looks like we gave them extra motivation to do exactly that last night. Jesse just texted they identified some of the downed bodies from our mission. They worked for the Brambillas.”
“The Brambillas also appear to have been one of the cleaner’s most frequent clients. And based on the fact they’re responsible for half a dozen deaths on his list, I can see them wanting to get to the cleaner the second they heard he was on the run,” Constantine noted. “But that still doesn’t explain why someone in their organization wanted our sister to die.”
“They identify anyone else from your op?” Mr. Costa remained standing by the window, eyes on Enzo, jaw moving with a tic. “Or just the Brambillas?”
“It was a clusterfuck of bad guys. Not just them.” Enzo shoved his phone back in his pocket, eyes on me as he added, “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
But without the backup, what would’ve happened? I shuddered to think about it, and why was I? They were okay, and I had to focus on that. Well, okay was a loose term. Okay for now, sure. But later?
“Without knowing who within the Brambilla crime family hired the cleaner, we’ll need to do some more digging ourselves.” Constantine turned on the flat-screen behind the desk and then synced his laptop with the screen. “Footage from outside the club that night thirteen years ago.” He pressed “Play” and turned to the side. “I still think it was someone she knew and she let them into her home. I just don’t know why she’d ever associate with someone from the Brambilla family.”
Constantine paused the screen, and my heartbeat became hostage to my frozen thoughts. Every part of me rooted in place at the sight.
The camera angle wasn’t great, and the screen wasn’t in color, but I could tell it was Bianca.
Enzo walked over to stand by his brothers, so I sat in a nearby leather armchair.
“What if she fell in love with someone in the Brambilla family?” Enzo asked in a low voice, sharing the idea we’d discussed in the theater room.
That had his father’s attention, and he snapped his focus around, his harsh gaze focused on Enzo. “Are you out of your damn mind? Your sister had a heart of gold. She’d never sleep with the enemy.”
“No, I agree with Pops,” Alessandro said. “She’d never.” He looked at Enzo. “Maybe she was writing a nonfiction piece for the magazine, and her research led her somewhere dangerous? She might have notes in one of those boxes in the safe room. We didn’t read over her work files back then because all the evidence had pointed to that guy.”
“You were young,” Mr. Costa said. “No excuse for me. I should’ve questioned things more.”
“I don’t think Bianca would write a Lois Lane–type exposé. It wasn’t her style. She loved love,” I said, sharing my thoughts. “But even if she did decide to write something dangerous, which led to her attack, the killer would’ve searched her place and taken any notes she had or evidence tied to them, right?”
Enzo nodded in agreement. “Play the footage,” he suggested, facing the screen again.
The camera angles bounced around, never losing sight of Bianca as she walked. It was as if Constantine had designed a program to recognize her face and follow her every step.
“Her head is down. Shoulders forward. I can’t see her face, but I can read her body language. She’s sad. The kind of sadness that only happens when . . .” Enzo’s gaze cut back to me. “When you feel like you can’t be with the person you love.”
My hand climbed to my chest at the anguished expression on his face as he studied me, and I couldn’t help but replay his words to me in the theater room that we hadn’t had a chance to discuss. His “I love you” had been buried among fear and worries, but it’d been there.
“Go back to the cameras by the club. Change the time to within thirty seconds of when she left. Let’s see if we recognize anyone leaving the club after her,” Alessandro suggested, and Enzo slowly faced the screen as I gripped the armchairs, nervously waiting, and it didn’t take long before Alessandro hissed, “Stop.”
“Is that who I think it is?” Constantine asked, and I stood to try and get a better view as he zoomed in on a man’s face.
“He was at the club that night?” Enzo whispered in disbelief, and chills scattered over my body.
“Who?” I asked, my timid voice nearly just a squeak of sound.
Enzo slowly faced me. “Giovanni’s son-in-law. His daughter’s husband, Nico.”
“Wait, the man outside the club that night is also the same guy in charge of the three men who came to your place yesterday. And now he’s on his way here?” That felt a little . . . suspect. Even for me.
Enzo’s palms went into prayer position, and he bowed his head against his hands and tapped twice. He cursed, this time in Italian, and dropped his palms. “Those three idiotas weren’t stupid. It was an act. They didn’t have a side operation. They knew who I was beforehand, and Nico sent them to me. I’d felt like I was being watched the night before when Jesse was talking to me, but he said he hadn’t been followed.” He shook his head. “That’s because they were already in Charlotte. Watching me.”
Wait, what?
“Now that we know the Brambilla family regularly used that cleaner, it makes sense they’d keep tabs on him. The moment they knew there was a breach, they’d started working on a game plan,” Constantine said.
“For whatever reason, Nico must be in league with the Brambillas, and he clearly has been for a long time,” Alessandro spoke up.
“They’ve been watching my every move since I arrived in town,” Enzo said. “Must have followed us to the cabin last night. We led them right to the cleaner.” He cut an angry hand through the air. “I was playing checkers while they were playing chess. I walked right into it because I was—”
“Distracted,” I murmured in defeat, assuming that was the direction he was going, and bricks of guilt suffocated me at that fact. “What does this all mean?”
Enzo looked at me and let go of a ragged breath. “Nico’s men saw me with you in the parking lot before Jesse showed up. They saw you show up at my place later that night. And maybe they were even outside the morning before when Thomas came.”
“You’re saying they framed Thomas?” I asked in shock.
“Nico gave me Thomas’s name, because he wanted me to think it was Thomas. For me to think the attack yesterday was all a big coincidence. Nico planned everything. Even getting word to Thomas about the attack, which made him look guilty.”
Thomas is innocent. My heart slapped my rib cage with a hard whack. “Why would they do that?”
“A Trojan horse,” Constantine answered.
“I’m still not following.” I wasn’t dense, but this was still over my head.
Enzo swallowed the space between us and reached for me, guiding me to my feet. “Nico had those three men show up at my place yesterday not only as a distraction but to use it as a reason to get inside our home here. Open the gates for them, like we’re about to do, so they could apologize for the attack.”
Instead of a gift, the trap is an apology?
“Giovanni may not know Nico is working with the Brambillas,” Mr. Costa pointed out. “But if he does, he’ll do whatever is necessary to protect his family.”
“And if the Brambillas have Nico by the balls,” Constantine said, “they’re more than likely behind everything that’s happened in the last few days. The mastermind behind the plot.”
I turned back to the screen that was paused on this Nico guy. “But why’d he want to hurt Bianca? His wife is family.”
“We can’t really think Bianca fell in love with not just the enemy but a married man, right?” Alessandro asked. “And then he killed her because . . . why?”
“I don’t know,” Enzo said, his tone softer that time, and he squeezed my hand and faced Alessandro. “But Nico was there that night, and he’s about to be here now. And we know for certain the Brambillas hired the cleaner to cover for Bianca’s murderer. This is the only thing that makes sense, even if it doesn’t make sense now.”
“Can you cancel the meeting?” I asked what felt like such a silly question, because of course they’d cancel now that they knew the truth.
“They’ve been two steps ahead of us,” Constantine replied, “and if we cancel, they’ll know for sure we figured things out. If we let them walk in, they’ll assume we’re still in the dark. And they’ll believe the client list died with the cleaner last night.”
“So they may not attack once here?” I asked, searching for clarification.
“No, they’ll attack,” Enzo said, no doubt in his tone. “But this way, they’ll be the ones surprised. Because they won’t be expecting us to be prepared for it.”
“We need to get Mom, Izzy, and Maria out of here before they arrive,” Constantine said, eyes on me, and my heart jumped into my throat.
“No, I don’t want to leave. I’m safer with you.”
Enzo gently hauled me into his arms, crushing me against his chest as if preparing for a goodbye I didn’t want to hear. “War is about to happen here. You could be caught in the crossfire. I won’t let that happen.”
I listened to Constantine bark out orders, presumably to Alessandro. “You’re taking the women out of here. Assemble a team. Take the armored SUV you used this morning.”
“I’d rather join the fight. Hudson can take them,” Alessandro responded as Enzo released me.
“Hudson’s a better sniper. And Mom and Izzy need one of us with them,” Constantine said in a low, steady voice, and Alessandro reluctantly nodded.
No. This was all happening too fast.
“We have a secure site on Long Island that’s off-the-grid. You’ll be safe there.” Enzo cupped my cheeks, searching for my gaze, but I didn’t want to look at him, not with him sending me away.
“If it’s safer, then shouldn’t we all go there?” I pleaded, finally giving him my eyes. “And isn’t this still speculation? What if Thomas really was behind the attack and it was a coincidence? Maybe Nico just liked that club and left shortly after Bianca, and it was bad timing?” But as I said the words, I knew they were bullshit.
“We can’t take any chances. We need to prepare for the worst and assume anyone walking into our house today is an enemy. Even Giovanni,” Mr. Costa explained. “And if Nico really is working with the Brambilla family, they’ll be coming, too, and it’ll turn into a bloodbath.”
Bloodbath? I was going to faint, but Enzo kept me upright and in his arms. He leaned in and brought his mouth to my ear. “I can’t do this with you here. Please. I need to know you’re safe.”
Because I’d already distracted him enough, hadn’t I? I battled back the tears, trying to keep my cool. But this whole situation was miles outside my wheelhouse. “Please come with me.” I had to try one more time.
He only shook his head in apology, then peered at Constantine, who was giving Alessandro a few more instructions. “I’ll have Maria waiting for you by the garage in three minutes,” Enzo told him, breaking my heart; then he quickly walked me from the room, holding on to my arm like I might refuse him.
“Don’t do this,” I protested as we went upstairs, but he didn’t talk again until we were in the guest room.
“I have to.” He let go of my hand and knelt by his bag and unzipped it.
I fell to my knees on the other side of the bag, allowing the tears to glide down my cheeks. This was happening too fast. And there were still too many unknown variables. He needed more pieces of the puzzle. More clues. I was going to lose my mind. Officially. Choking out a sob, I barely registered what was in Enzo’s hand.
“Bianca’s rosary.” He set the necklace in my palm and curled my fingers over it. “Keep it with you.” He leaned over the bag and brushed his lips across mine, offering a tender kiss. “You can give it back to me when this is over.”
My hand trembled as I held the rosary, trying to find the right words to convince this man not to go through with this.
“I wanted it to be Thomas. I really did. Because I hated him, and I wanted any reason to go after him, and for that, I’m so fucking sorry,” he murmured, his hand still covering mine. “Plus, if he’d been responsible, that’d also mean it wasn’t my fault you were in danger.”
“Whoever murdered your sister is why I was in danger. Not you,” I reminded him, because he didn’t need any guilt eating at him. “You’re not prepared, and you barely slept. Can you please try and, um, reschedule?” Reschedule war? What the hell is wrong with me?
“This is what I do,” he whispered. “I’ll be okay as long as you’re not here.”
“This isn’t what you do. Not anymore,” I pleaded. “You’re a chef now. You’re . . . you’re mine. I—I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t.” He helped me to my feet and gathered me in his arms. “When this is over, I can finally be free of the past, Maria. I can be free of it once and for all.” He held my cheeks and bowed his forehead to mine. “Don’t you see? This is why I was never truly able to let go and move on, because justice was never really served.”
I pulled back to find his eyes. “And she wouldn’t want you dying to get it.”
He brought his lips close to mine. “I won’t.” He kissed me. “We have a list to check off.” Another kiss. “Memories to make.” More kisses. “Babies to have.” A softer, longer kiss this time that nearly distracted me from what he’d said.
And then, before I knew it, he had me in the garage.
Just outside the SUV, I listened to protests from his mother and sister as they argued with Alessandro.
Enzo held me tight and brought his mouth to my ear. “I love you, Maria. I won’t die on you.” He swiped the pads of his thumbs over my cheeks, catching my tears as I processed his words. “I promise I’ll see you again, Tesoro,” was the last thing he said before tucking me into the car and closing the door.
