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I felt the soft brush of Eric’s lips across my forehead, but I kept my eyes clenched closed, feigning sleep. His footsteps moved away from the bed, then down the stairs and out the door. As soon as I heard the tell-tale snick of the lock snapping into place, my eyes popped open. I flopped onto my back and stared at the pinewood ceiling.
I’d almost told Eric about my past last night, but I’d chickened out at the last moment. Instead, I’d asked about his. Now I almost wished I hadn’t.
I’d lain awake half the night, trying to process everything he’d told me. Strangely, the first thing that popped into my mind was the fact that, somewhere out there, was a woman who’d loved him first. Irrational jealousy roared through my blood, turning my body hot. For some odd reason, I couldn’t picture Eric being married. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to; I wanted to believe that he was meant for me alone, and no one else. My gaze strayed to the ring on my left hand, and I brushed my thumb over the warm metal. My heart broke a little bit as my thoughts turned to the second part of our conversation.
Eric was good. Noble. Everything right in this world. He was also partially responsible for my father’s death.
I’d found a man I loved with my whole heart, but at what price? It wasn’t fair that Eric had survived while Daddy hadn’t. I remembered those days just after his death when my world had been shrouded in sadness and pain. Mama and I were never particularly close, and I’d lost the only person who’d truly loved me in the warehouse that night. Daddy had been barely cold in the ground when Mama pawned me off on Uncle Massimo. It was for my own good, she’d told me. I was the boss’s daughter, and Massimo would keep me safe.
She’d lied. I would’ve been better off alone in the streets than enduring the physical and mental abuse I was subjected to under my uncle’s supervision. I was starved, locked away in my bedroom, unable to leave the house. Then there was the closet. I hated the dark confine of that tiny room most of all. When I spoke up or acted out, Uncle would lock me in the closet for hours at a time. My hand flew to my throat just thinking about the thick, humid air clogging my lungs as I tried to breathe.
I hated that they’d taken my father away from me. If Daddy hadn’t died, none of that would have happened. I was furious with the man who’d taken that shot and changed my life forever. I hated all of them. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, regret burned in my stomach like acid. Eric was a good man and a good cop who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just like Daddy.
My emotions ping-ponged all over the place, and I didn’t know what to think, what to feel. Eric wasn’t directly responsible; he hadn’t been the one to shoot my father. Both men had walked into the warehouse that night knowing the consequences of their actions. I couldn’t delude myself—my father wasn’t a good man. Although Eric’s story had stunned me, it made sense. My father was known for his expertise with knives. I shuddered at the thought of the long scar along the base of Eric’s throat. In my mind, I could hear his raspy, roughened voice. He’d been hurt—badly—because of my father. He was damn lucky to even be alive. It just hurt that Daddy couldn’t be here, too.
I covered my face with my hands and let out a groan. I needed to stop thinking about it. How, I had no idea. I would have to tell Eric the truth. And I dreaded that more than anything. My father had tried to kill him. How would he react to that? And how the hell could I tell him without losing him forever?
Oh, God. This was going to be so bad. I didn’t want to do it, but I had no choice in the matter. If we got married, he’d learn my real name. Capaldi wasn’t exactly a common surname, and I had a feeling he already suspected I was from Chicago. It wouldn’t take a genius to put two and two together.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
I threw the covers off and stumbled from the bed as I headed toward the bathroom. Bile churned in my stomach, burning my esophagus. I closed the lid of the toilet and sat down, then dropped my head between my knees. Several long, deep breaths later, I lifted my head and forced the nausea away. I needed to get ready for work, but my body refused to cooperate. My legs trembled as I turned on the shower and stepped beneath the spray. The shaking intensified, and I slumped to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest.
I don’t know how long I stayed like that, but the cooling water jerked me back to reality. I was soaked but hadn’t made any attempt to wash up. I used the last bit of tepid water to quickly wash and rinse, then I toweled off. I felt numb as I dressed and pulled my hair up into a messy bun without even bothering to dry it first.
The drive to Briarleigh passed in a blur, and the rest of the day was just as bad. I couldn’t focus; my mind was a blank void filled with white noise and memories of the past that played on loop. Happy times. Then the bad times.
Thankfully, Jack and Mia were both absent today, so I didn’t have to worry about running into them. I knew my face revealed every emotion, and Mia would’ve known immediately that something was wrong. She’d told me yesterday that they were driving back to Spokane to meet with their lawyer over some business matter. She didn’t offer any more information, and I didn’t pry, but I assumed it had something to do with Hamilton Construction. Mia’s late father, Bruce Hamilton, had started the company decades ago, then partnered with Jack during the recession when things had gotten tough. Mia had received her father’s share when he passed, though I knew there had been stipulations to his will that she’d had to fulfill in order to do so. It was actually the reason she’d ended up here in Pine Ridge and had reconnected with Jack after spending years apart.
I walked into the cabin that night completely drained. Eric wasn’t home yet, and I was grateful that I had a few minutes to myself. Not bothering to turn on any lights, I made my way to the couch where I sank down in the corner and cradled my head in my hands. I couldn’t put it off any longer. Especially not now. I was going to have to tell Eric the truth—all of it.
Despair settled over me, and I popped up from the couch, needing to do something to take my mind off the conversation that could possibly change my life. I meandered into the kitchen, but my stomach turned over at the thought of food. My gaze strayed over the countertop to the doorway of the darkened office, and I moved in that direction.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wondered how things were back home. Were they still looking for me? The obvious answer to that question was yes. The fact that I’d escaped must have infuriated my uncle. A tiny smile curved my mouth. I hoped the Bratva brought hell down on him for failing to “deliver me” as promised.
Just days before I was supposed to marry Nikolai, the captain of the local Bratva, I had wheedled my way into leaving the house to go shopping. I’d made friends with the owner of a little boutique, and over the course of several months, Lila had helped me ferret away cash in the event I ever needed to escape. When I showed up that day, she knew.
While Lila distracted my bodyguards, I’d skipped out the back entrance and into a car that her boyfriend, Jake, had secured for me. I’d tossed my cell out the window a hundred miles south, then I turned west and finally north. A week later, I’d ended up broken down on the side of the road right outside of Pine Ridge. And that was exactly how Eric had found me.
No license, a car that wasn’t legal—he’d had every reason to haul me into jail that night. Instead, he’d taken me to his place. It probably sounded creepy to the average person, and I did have my doubts initially. But Briarleigh was still under construction, and the closest hotel was more than an hour away in Kalispell. I’d taken my chances, and I thanked God every day that I had.
He’d quickly proved himself trustworthy, and he was the one who’d gotten me the job at Briarleigh. I fell fast and hard for him over those first few weeks. Though he’d tried to push me away to maintain a professional distance, he quickly gave in to the undeniable attraction between us. He told me every day how much he cared for me; I could only pray that what he said was true, because his love for me was about to be tested in ways we never imagined.
I took a seat in the leather chair, and butterflies kicked up in my stomach as I turned my attention to the computer in front of me. I pressed the button to power it up, and several minutes later the home screen appeared. I maneuvered the mouse up to the search bar and typed in the name of the local paper back home. The Tribune’s main page popped up, and I started a new search. Typing in my last name, I held my breath while results filled the page.
I scrolled through the headlines, dread settling like a stone in my stomach as I read of the recent unrest. Tensions between la Cosa Nostra and the Bratva had escalated, leaving destruction in their wake. Arrests and even deaths of men with connections to the various syndicates were detailed in each article.
Uncle Massimo, however, seemed wholly unaffected. He’d been photographed out and about several times, once even with the mayor at a ribbon cutting ceremony for a new hospital wing. It was almost as if he was untouchable. He used donations to cover up his crimes and keep politicians, judges, and members of law enforcement in his pocket. Anger simmered in my gut. I hated him for that. I wanted him to be held responsible for his actions, but I knew it would never happen.
Asshole.
I closed out the search window and sat there for a long moment, just staring at the screen. I hadn’t read anything about Matteo. That was good and bad, I guessed. Was he safe? I prayed he was. I knew he would one day fill Uncle Massimo’s shoes, and I hoped he would be a better boss—a more compassionate and just leader—than his father.
I bit my lower lip and guided the mouse back to the search engine to pull up my email. I held my breath as it loaded, and disappointment slammed into me when I found the inbox full of junk. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting. Some sort of communication, maybe? I’d considered reaching out to Matteo a hundred times to let him know that I was safe. Instead, I’d been too afraid.
Tears crowded my eyes at the thought. Now I wished there was something. But as I quickly scrolled through, waiting for a familiar name to jump out at me, it remained infuriatingly absent. Maybe he’d given up on me.
Just as I was about to give up on the email as well, something caught my eye. Received a little over two months ago from an unknown sender, one message had a video file attached. Apprehension filled me as I clicked on the video and it began to play.
Black and white, the image was grainy—but I knew exactly what it was. Or, rather, who it was. Me.
From high up, I watched my profile as I slipped from the back entrance of the mall, then cut across the parking lot and climbed into the little Cavalier that Jake had left in the back of the lot for me. I couldn’t see the plate—thank God—and I hoped that meant Uncle Massimo hadn’t been able to discern the number, either. It was possible that he’d been able to obtain it from another camera across the city, but all the video proved was that he knew I’d escaped. He could track the car all he wanted, but it would never come back to me.
Other than offering to buy me a new vehicle, Eric hadn’t said a word about it. He watched me sometimes when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, and I knew he was wondering if I would feel the need to flee again. That was how much he cared about me—he wanted me to be safe and secure, no matter what. But I was tired of running. The only thing I feared now was never having Eric by my side. I couldn’t imagine life without him.
The thought brought tears to my eyes. I’d already lost one man I loved. What if the truth cost me the other?
The video stopped playing as the car turned out of the lot and onto the main road. With a sigh, I closed out the message and scrolled through the unread messages again, more slowly this time. Another unknown sender—different than the last—jumped off the screen, and a shiver stole down my spine. The time-stamp showed it’d been sent only two weeks ago.
The mouse trembled in my shaky hands as I clicked on the file to open it. The feed on this tape was in color and startlingly vivid—unfortunately. My stomach clenched as a familiar face came into view, and I recognized Lila, the woman who owned the boutique I’d snuck away from. On the screen, I watched my worst nightmare unfold.
Lila and a man, who I assumed was her boyfriend, knelt on the floor facing the camera. Their hands were bound in front of them, fear etched deep into their faces. Tears streamed from Lila’s eyes, tearing a hole deep into my soul.
I began to hyperventilate, my lungs rising and falling rapidly with each shallow breath. I knew what was going to happen, though I prayed with every fiber of my being that I would be wrong.
“Do you know this woman?”
Bile churned in my stomach as a man off to the side held up a photo, first toward the camera, then turned it toward Lila.
She nodded shakily as her eyes scanned my picture. “I remember her. She used to come into the shop from time to time.”
There was a slight movement off to the left, just out of view of the camera, and the second man made a soft scoffing sound in the back of his throat. Was that Uncle Massimo? My ears perked up, listening intently for any discernible tone or phrase.
The first man spoke again. “When was the last time you saw her?”
Lila’s whole body shook. “I—I don’t know. Before Christmas?”
It came out like a question, and the man pressed forward. “Are you sure about that?”
“I—” She paused and licked her lips. “Y-yes. I’m sure.”
“She left your shop through the back door.” Lila trembled, but didn’t speak, and the man continued. “Did you help her?”
Lila’s eyes darted off to one side before going back to the man. “S-she asked for some clothes. I didn’t know what she had planned.”
That was the truth; I’d never told Lila any details for fear of what might happen—that this very thing might happen. My throat constricted, and I fought to swallow down the dread choking me.
“Yet you helped her anyway.”
A tear slid down Lila’s cheek. “She was my friend.”
Oh, God. My hand flew to the base of my neck as a soft gasp left my throat. She had no idea what she’d just done. Uncle Massimo had kept me sequestered in my room, isolated and alone. I wasn’t even allowed to speak privately with the staff who worked with him. I knew it was because they’d witnessed his treatment of me, and he worried that they would help me escape.
“Where is she now?”
Lila shook her head. “I—I’m sorry, I don’t know.”
“Just tell me,” the man urged. “We just want to bring her home.”
“I promise, I don’t know!”
For a long moment, everything was silent. Then, without a single word, the man off to the left gestured impatiently toward the couple. The gun in the foreground moved to the boyfriend, and I jumped in my seat as a crack fill the air. I slapped my hands over my mouth, my head shaking frantically back and forth, my stomach pitching violently.
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
This couldn’t be real. This could not be happening. Yet I knew from the dark stains and his limp body that this wasn’t staged. Lila screamed and reached for the man, her body contorting as she threw herself toward him. For several long seconds she sobbed, cries mingling incoherently with muttered words. Finally, she lunged upward and glared at the man behind the camera. Tears streaked her pretty face, and her mouth twisted as she shrieked at him.
“You killed him! You fucking asshole! Why are you doing this?”
The gun moved swiftly back to her, and her voice broke over the curses pouring from her mouth.
“Tell me what you know.”
“Nothing! I don’t know anything! Please, just let me go.”
She began to plead for life, and I found myself begging along with her. Tears filled my eyes and slipped over as the man spoke up again.
“Are you sure you don’t have anything else to tell me?”
“Please,” she begged. “I told you everything I kno—"
The gun went off midsentence, and Lila’s body slumped to the side, landing partially over her boyfriend.
I closed out the window, my entire body shaking. I shut down the computer and sat frozen for a moment. It took me three attempts to stand, my knees weak and wobbly, my head woozy. My heart raced in my chest, and I felt faint. This was all my fault. In a daze, I made my way to the living room and sank down into the corner of the couch. I felt cold all over, my fingers numb as I tried to draw the blanket over me. I curled into a ball as it to make myself as small and inconspicuous as possible, then closed my eyes and cried.