Chapter 49
“You thinkanyone else noticed I wasn’t there?” Shae asks lazily, her body entwined with mine now that we’ve showered and moved to the guest bed.
“I’d say it’s a safe bet I wasn’t the only one.”
She sighs.
“What was the lead you were following?”
She takes a slow breath as if preparing to unload the news of a loved one’s death. “It’s kind of a long story, but when we got back from Quebec, my place had been ransacked.”
I prop myself up on an elbow and stare incredulously. “And you’re just telling me this now?”
Her hand presses against my chest, her face staying serene. “Things were complicated, Renzo. I told my family, though. It wasn’t like I kept it a secret.”
I don’t like it. My irritation is irrational, I know that, but I still don’t like it. I lie on my back and try to convince my body to relax. “You figure out who it was?”
“I’m almost certain it was the woman I was seeing, though I didn’t even suspect her until a few days ago.”
“What made you think it was her?” I’m curious where this is going. I don’t know anything about the woman, and I’m suddenly wishing I’d asked a few questions.
“Nothing tangible at first, but when I heard you’d gone to Canada and connected the airstrip to the name Kola, it seemed like too much of a coincidence.”
This time, I sit all the way upright. “Are you telling me this woman is connected to the Albanians?”
“I discovered tonight that she is Albanian.” Shae sits up with me, pulling the sheet around her. “I met up with her under the pretense of reconciling.”
“Jesus, Shae. Did your family know you were meeting up with her?”
She glares at me, then continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “Everything seemed kosher during our talk, but I nabbed her passport from her purse on a whim. She lied to me about her name. I knew her as Mari Cola.”
“Italian,” I note.
“Right. But her real name is Marsela Kola. Albanian. And the booklet was half full of stamps for Canada.”
I roll off the bed and hold out my hand for her. “Come on. We’re getting out of here.”
She doesn’t move at first as though she’s debating whether to argue.
“Until we know exactly what’s going on, even you have to admit that my place is safer. No reason to take chances.” I’m able to keep my cool, but only because I know she’ll never cooperate if I don’t. What I actually want to do is rage at her for staying here when she knew it wasn’t safe. And she still doesn’t have a damn alarm. I bite my cheek to keep my thoughts to myself.
Shae gets up and follows me back to her bedroom where we left our clothes.
“Pack an overnight bag.”
She peers at me shyly over her shoulder. “You’re handling this better than I would have expected.”
“How’s that?” I ask distractedly, typing out a text on my phone while we’re talking.
“You haven’t yelled or threatened to put me in a safe house. A night at your place to sort things out is very reasonable.”
“Glad you think so, but the sorting out’s been done, and the overnight bag is to get you by until my guys move the rest of your stuff to my place tomorrow.” I hold up my phone. “It’s already been arranged.”
She stares at me as though I’ve farted butterflies out of my ass. “What?”
“You can’t move me into your place without even asking.”
I decide to let it slide that she’s told me yet again what I can’t do and cross over to where she’s standing, pull her even closer with my hand cuffed around her neck to place a gentle kiss on her nose.
“Shae Byrne…”
A kiss on her eyelid.
“Will you…”
A kiss on her other eyelid.
“Please…”
A kiss on her forehead.
“Fucking move in with me.”
This time, my lips touch hers in a leisurely caress.
“Okay,” she breathes. “See, was that so hard?”
I grin ear to ear because that’s my Shae. Always with the last word. And I love her for it.
Instead of packing, however, she stands with her brows pinched.
“What is it?”
“How’s this going to work, Renzo? I’m genuinely not okay letting you step down, but I’m also not the stay-at-home mom type either. There are our families and—”
I place my hand over her mouth, relieved when she doesn’t bite me before I let my hand fall back down. “I’ve gone through all those thoughts as well, trust me. I know you better than to expect some ’50s stereotype. And you know what I’ve come to realize?”
She shakes her head.
“So long as it’s my cum running down your thighs and your lipstick on my cock, nothing else matters.”
“Renzo, I had no idea you were such a romantic.” Her teeth snag her bottom lip, fighting back a grin.
I spin her around and slap her ass. “Pack that damn bag so we can get home. I need to fuck you again.”
Her gasp of outrage dies away as her eyes dilate with the promise of my words. “Yeah, okay. Time to get packing.”