Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
S AINT
My jaw is sore from the blow I got there. I’m wound tight, and the job tonight only cranked it higher. It takes way longer than expected, and it’s nearly three in the morning when I get back to the mansion. I don’t expect anyone to be up, but some part of me wants to have Emerald sitting up in the bed and waiting for me.
Dropping my jacket on the entry table, I make my way quietly up the stairs. A hand drags down my tired face before I work the tension out of my neck.
There’s a lot that needs to be said between Emerald and me. A lot of which I’m going to struggle to say. But the thought of her just being here, of being in our bed, eases some of the tightness in my muscles.
I push open the bedroom door, taking care to be quiet.
But I freeze.
Because she’s not here.
I turn on my heel to that damn spare room she’s been spending so much time in. But it’s empty.
My heart pounds in my chest as I make my way down the hall to Milena’s room.
I’m about to knock, but I see the door is very slightly ajar. And through the gap, I can see it’s empty.
Spinning around, I check Jaspar and Giulietta’s rooms. Empty.
The side of my fist slams into the doorframe. “Goddammit!”
I storm back to our bedroom, going through the room again and again, searching frantically for any sign of where she’s gone off to.
Of all the things to do, this might take the cake. Because there’s still a goddamn target on her back...
My finger jams into the screen of my phone as I dial her cell phone. “C’mon. C’mon. Pick up, Em.” It rings six times before her voicemail clicks in. I redial. Again and again.
“Fuck!” The phone smashes into the bathroom door as I hurl it from my hand.
I inhale sharply, trying to get a hold of myself. This isn’t me. This is some…some beast Emerald has created. Some beast so addicted to her that he can’t bear the thought of being without her. But she’s done this, and now she’s gone.
Once more in the wind.
Without me.
My chest heaves as I take in the room. Eyes scanning for whatever I can find to help me.
I will find her.
And she better hope that when I do, I’m thinking more rationally than I am right fucking now.
And she better hope that I find her before anyone else does...
I slump down on the edge of the bed. Why? Why did she leave? Was it so hard for her to see how hard I was trying when I talked to her during that chess game? I’d thought… I shake my head. That was the problem, wasn’t it? I wasn’t thinking. Not really.
I’d stuck my foot in my mouth when attempting to show her how I was trying. I was doing the best I could, and it wasn’t enough. Emotions and I don’t mix. And yet, I tried. I let myself give into that gooey center I’ve tried so damn hard to ignore I even have.
This isn’t like me.
No. This is the man Emerald has turned me into. A man who so desperately wants to be better for her, but at the same time, is failing miserably at it.
She was big enough to say sorry for running out of the wedding and for not telling me about the baby sooner.
But I still couldn’t tell her what she needed to hear from me…
Standing up, I grab my shattered phone from the floor and test whether it’s still working.
The screen’s cracked and blurry, but it’ll do.
My hand curls around the black case. I’ll have to replace it. But first I need information. My steps are sure and measured as I jog down to the kitchen. I put a pot of coffee on and stare at my broken phone on the counter.
I just need to think like Emerald .
Where would she go?
Where would she take the kids?
She wouldn’t put them in danger. So, wherever she is, they’re not with her. They’re safe and oblivious to what’s happening. It’s her way of protecting them.
My head hangs between my arms where they rest on either side of my phone.
She could be anywhere, and I hate it. I hate not being able to account for every move she makes. Like she’s this one big blind spot in my life.
I know her better than any target I’ve ever taken down. And yet, I’m at a complete loss where to start.
Someone has to know something. Anything .
I snatch up my phone and find the number I need.
Hitting dial, I listen to the ringing tone. I stare up at the ceiling, waiting and letting out a breath to calm my nerves.
“Hello?”
“Jacquetta,” I say.
“Saint? What time is it?”
“Where’s Emerald?”
“What?”
“Where. Is. Emerald?”
“Look, she dropped the kids here. They were due to stay with me for two weeks anyway and were looking forward to it. She’s gone to the Bahamas by herself. She needs the break.”
After she tells me all she knows, I hang up and check with the airline. But she never boarded the flight. Shit . Where the hell is she?
I call Jacquetta again. “She never got on the flight. What else did she say?”
“That’s all she told me.”
“You’re her best friend,” I grit out, trying to keep the irritation from my voice. Because snapping at her and demanding something from her isn’t going to get me what I need. “Will you let me know if you hear anything?”
“What are you going to do, Saint?”
“Just ask around for me.”
“Saint, I think?—”
“When I know more, I’ll let you know.” I cut her off before hanging up. Another clipped sigh pushes past my lips, and I turn toward the pot of coffee.
Dropping onto a stool, I stare at the dark liquid. The tightness in my chest is uncomfortable and difficult to breathe past. I’m not used to this feeling. Because I’ve never experienced a feeling like this before.
No, that’s a lie .
I have experienced this feeling before.
But it was when I was five years old. And it was the one and only time I allowed myself to feel loss.
Loss.
My grasp tightens around my phone, and the damaged screen cracks further with the force.
This isn’t me. This visceral reaction I’m having to Emerald being in the wind once more makes me feel sick. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose as I try to think.
I can check the usual places. Make some phone calls and find out if she’s stopped by the casino. I can have contacts keep an eye out for her. I can check in that small town she fled to before and with that old lady, Winifred, she was working for.
That’s how I’ll start.
Because I’m going to find her if it’s the last damn thing I do.
* * *
It’s the next day., and the guards nod at me as I walk up to the mansion belonging to Jacquetta’s family. After knocking and waiting a few moments, the door is opened by a woman who’s obviously the housekeeper.
“I’m here to see Jacquetta.”
“Sir, she’s out right now. She had to run an errand, but she said she’d only be gone thirty minutes, so she’ll be back soon.”
I hear childish squeals in the background. “Never mind. I’m just here to get the kids.”
She frowns at me. “Miss Jacquetta didn’t say anything about this.”
“Mr. Saint!” Giulietta’s voice rings out behind her. She’s dressed in a pink tutu over her dress, and there’s a bucket load of glitter in her hair. But she looks happy. Jaspar’s head, also covered in glitter, appears with a smile and wave.
“Hey, I’m here to take you guys home.”
The housekeeper narrows her eyes, putting herself between me and the kids.
I bite back a growl as I level my gaze on her.
“Who are you, exactly?” she says with a glare at me.
“I’m…” but how do I explain who I am to these kids?
“This is Mr. Saint,” Giulietta says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world as she snatches my hand into her tiny warm grasp. And at that small touch from her, my heart does that pathetic little thump.
“I can’t just let you take the kids,” the housekeeper announces. “Nobody mentioned anything about this. Is Miss Emerald in the car or something?”
“No. She’s still…away. She asked me to get the kids on my way home.” I lie, watching as Giulietta quickly packs her things into her backpack before directing Jaspar to do the same as if she’s the boss.
She folds her arms across her chest. “Not until I hear from Miss Emerald.”
“They’re mine .”
“Not until I hear it from Miss Emerald or Miss Jacquetta. You could be a murderer for all I know.” Oh, lady, if only you knew … She’s getting on my last damn nerve, and I just about resist the urge to snap at her that the guards wouldn’t have let me pass if they didn’t know who I was.
“Look, lady, I get you’re just trying to keep them safe?—"
“It’s okay.” Milena’s voice rings out as she saunters up to the door, eating a granola bar. “He’s Emerald’s fiancé.”
The housekeeper eyes me up and down. “Oh, it’s him .” Great. I wonder what not-so-wonderful things she’s heard about me. The woman sighs as she pulls out her phone from the pocket of her apron. “I need to clear it with Miss Jacquetta since none of the family are home right now.”
I tap my foot impatiently as she dials Jacquetta. “Miss, there’s a grumpy man here who I think is Miss Emerald’s fiancé. He says he’s here to take the kids.” There’s a pause as Jacquetta says something in response. The housekeeper narrows her beady gaze at me. “What is he like? Well, he’s dressed all in black and looks like a serial killer. Oh, and he’s cold and emotionless …”
Okay, she’s definitely heard all about me from Emerald and Jacquetta.
She holds out her phone to me. “She wants to talk to you to make sure you’re who you’re claiming to be.”
I snatch the phone from her, barely suppressing my scowl. “Jacquetta, I’m taking the kids home. I don’t even know why Emerald brought the kids here. Their home is with me.”
There’s a long pause. “Okay, Saint. But on the condition that if you need to work, you call me to come over and babysit. Okay?”
“Fine. Have you heard anything from her?”
“No,” Jacquetta responds. “But I’ll keep trying her cell and ask around.”
“Thanks,” I murmur.
“I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for her,” Jacquetta grits out.
I bite back a smile. At least someone is loyal to Emerald. “Noted.”
Handing the phone back to the housekeeper, she speaks briefly with Jacquetta before hanging up. “Okay, children,” she announces. “You’re going home.”
Finally. I stop myself from rolling my eyes as I hoist Giulietta into my arms and head back to my car with Jaspar and Milena either side of me.
“I tried to teach them how to play chess,” Jaspar tells me, shaking his head and dusting my arm in green glitter. What the hell did that housekeeper do to my kids ? “But I’m not as good at explaining the rules like you.”
I nod, slowly making my way to the car and feeling that pit in my stomach loosen slightly now that I know the kids are safe. One problem down; only about a million more to go.
Carefully, I buckle them into their booster seats, dusting the glitter from my arms. “Why are you two covered in glitter?”
“We did arts and crafts!”
“Oh.”
“Giulietta got it on my picture, so I got it on hers.” Jaspar sticks his tongue out at his sister, and I can’t help my snort. It’s the first drop of amusement I’ve felt in what feels like a long while.
Milena gives the nosy Nancy of a housekeeper a wave before getting in.
As we drive back to my mansion, Jaspar tells me all about their sleepover, including the battle of cowboys and spaceships, complete with sound effects.
My eyes are glued to the road, but every so often, they drift to the backseat. The image of another car seat with a baby keeps popping into my head, and I have to force myself to snap back to reality.
By the time we’ve pulled up to the house, Giulietta’s drifted off, and Milena’s bored expression has changed. “Is…Em going to be okay?”
I stop as we climb the front steps. “Yeah, she’s going be fine, Milena. She just needs some time to unwind. She’s stressed.”
“Is that why she ran out on the wedding? She’s stressed? I’m not a kid. I can handle whatever’s going on.”
I swallow hard and start walking up the steps again, careful not to jostle Giulietta who’s sleeping in my arms. “Nothing’s going on. We’re just working things out. She needs some time, and I’m giving it to her.”
“Whatever.”
“Milena, just cut her some slack, yeah? She’s just trying to do what’s best for you all, and it’s not always easy for her.”
“I know. She’s just…” Her voice drifts off.
“Very Emerald?”
Milena gives me a small smile. “Yeah, exactly.” And with that, I let us into the house and carry Giulietta upstairs, with Jaspar and Milena following us.
Milena heads straight for her room, and twenty minutes later, I’ve gotten both Giulietta and Jaspar tucked into bed.
“Is Em going to be here to take us to school?” Giulietta asks sleepily from where she’s burrowed into her pink down comforter.
“I don’t know.” I don’t want to lie to her.
“Will you take us, Mr. Saint?”
“Of course.”
“Good.”
“Don’t worry, Giulietta. I’m here to stay. I’ll even make you something good to eat for breakfast.”
She gives me a sleepy smile. “Goodnight, Mr. Saint.”
“Goodnight, kid. Sleep well.”
My footsteps are heavy as I walk down the dark hall toward my empty bedroom. Exhaustion weighs down my body, but my mind is whirling. Shucking off my shirt and pants, I lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
I can still smell her in the bed, and my heart squeezes in my chest. I check my phone one more time. No news. No hints as to where she could be. I’ve got the best guys tracking her down, but there’s nothing so far.
I bite back a wince at the pain in my sternum. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought it was heartburn. But I do know better. The hollow feeling, the emptiness that seems to be seeping into my bones the longer she’s gone, just keeps growing and growing. Eventually, it’ll swallow me whole again, and like twenty-four years ago, I’ll have to claw myself out of it.
Only this time, I don’t think I’ll survive it.
I toss and turn all night, eventually waking in a cold sweat of nightmares featuring my parents and Emerald. Shoving up from the bed, I try to forget the image of a dead Emerald lying beneath Carmine’s boot. Fucking Carmine Cicconi . Rubbing my tired eyes, I know it’s time to get up, and with lead-weighted steps, I make my way downstairs.
The smell of fresh pancakes fills the air as Jaspar and Giulietta talk around the breakfast table while Milena taps away on her phone with intent concentration.
“Milena, can you braid my hair?” Giulietta asks her with a hopeful smile.
“No.”
“Braids look dumb,” Jaspar interrupts.
Giulietta glares at her brother. “They do not!”
“Do too!” Jaspar yells.
“Do not!”
“Do too!”
“Do not!” Giulietta shoots him a look that could make hell freeze over. “And Jaspar, if you want your stuffed crocodile to still be alive by the end of today, you better not say anything else about my hair!”
A look of alarm floods Jaspar’s face as he clamps his lips shut. Giulietta can be utterly terrifying when she wants to be.
She flicks her hair over her shoulder with a look of satisfaction at Jaspar’s silence before turning back to her sister. “Please, Milena? Em isn’t here to do it.”
“ No .” Milena is adamant. “I’ve already made you breakfast. Anyway, my friends are here.”
I arch a brow. “I thought I was taking you all to school?”
“No, thanks,” Milena huffs, clearly unimpressed at the idea. “I already have a ride lined up.”
“I’m not riding in the same car as you if you’re wearing dumb braids,” Jaspar clips at Giulietta who hesitates only a second before dumping her bowl of cereal on his head.
“Who has dumb hair now?” she announces with glee. Jesus fucking Christ.
Milena pushes back from the table, and I swivel my gaze between her and her siblings, struggling to deal with all three of them at once. “Hold on, Milena! You’re actually going to class, right?”
Now, it’s my turn to be glared at. “Not you too, Saint. I thought you were cooler than this.”
“Yes or no, Milena. I’ll find out either way.”
She sighs. “God, you’re as bad as Em. Yes, I’m going to class.”
“All of them?”
“All of them. Can I go now ?”
I nod and sit back in my chair with a sigh. How the hell did Emerald do this every day without wanting to at least shoot one of them?
“Mr. Saint?” Giulietta asks, tugging on my sleeve, as Jaspar wipes at his hair with a towel. I might have to shampoo it before we leave as there are bits of Lucky Charms stuck between the strands.
“Yeah?”
“Will you braid my hair?”
“Oh, um… I’ve never done it before.”
“Pleaaase?”
I try to say no, but there’s plenty of time before we have to leave, and I can’t help but buckle. This little girl—actually, make that the entire family—have me so wrapped around their fingers that it’d be comical if it didn’t make my chest ache at the same time. “Okay, but no promises about what it’ll look like. But let’s see what we can do.”
After consulting an online video and being none the wiser, I consult four more similar videos and end up even more confused. I brace myself to do this. I can do it . I’m able to meticulously plan and execute complex assassinations, so this braiding thing should be a walk in the park, right?
Sitting Giulietta on a kitchen stool, I get to work. Her hair is fine and silky, and whenever I cross sections over and go to grab the next section, what I’ve just done unravels. A scowl settles on my face. The video didn’t show this happening. These so-called social media influencers are fucking liars. You can’t learn to French braid hair in ‘ six minutes and seven easy steps .’ There must be laws against false advertising like this—against people who spend all their lives lying.
Twenty minutes later, my fingers all have cramps, sweat is shining on my brow, and I feel like I’ve run a fucking marathon. But with a smile of satisfaction, I spin Giulietta around in the chair to take a look at herself in the mirror I’ve propped up on the kitchen island.
She looks at her reflection in the mirror, and her gaze widens. “You’ve made me look like a scarecrow !” she squeals. She’s obviously inherited Emerald’s tendency to be overdramatic…
“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” I try.
“Yeah, it is,” Jaspar scoffs as he folds his arms over his chest. Jeez, they’re a difficult crowd to please . “It looks like she’s been dragged through a hedge backward,” he announces with relish. “Told you, Giulietta, that you’d look dumb with braids, and this just proves it.”
“You’re not being very helpful here,” I grit out at him.
“Emerald told us to never lie ,” he pipes up. And the way he says it makes me freeze. Christ, I hope she hasn’t been trying to convince them that I’m nothing but a liar.
“Look, I’ll search online and see if I can find some tips on how to improve it by tomorrow,” I promise, just wanting to see her smile. “You know, your hair doesn’t look too bad.” I give my best attempt at a reassuring tone.
“I don’t think this is how it’s supposed to look.” Her expression falls and her gaze shines. “I just want to look like all the other girls at school...”
My heart squeezes. “I’ll practice more today and tonight, so hopefully by tomorrow, I’ll be a bit better.” And as I say the words, I resolve to master these fucking French braids no matter how long it takes to learn it.
After washing Jaspar’s hair over the bathroom basin, when I finally get the kids to school, they’re late. And I know I’m failing miserably with them so far, but I’m going to turn this around. I’m determined to show Em that I can be the man she wants me to be and that I’m one hundred percent here for her, the kids, and the baby.
* * *
The following morning, after seven failed attempts and three more online videos, I manage to get Giulietta’s hair just about braided before we have to leave for school.
After I secure the hairband in place and show her the finished result, she gives me a beaming smile. It’s not perfect, but it’s a hell of a lot better than yesterday’s attempt.
The little girl reaches up to kiss my cheek, and I’m left standing there, blinking at my reflection in the mirror. That weird fluttering, that feeling that happens when the kids are around, comes roaring to life, pushing away a little of the ache caused by Emerald’s absence.
“We’re going to be late, and Mrs. Harriet doesn’t like that,” Jaspar complains.
I snap back into action. “No one is gonna be late today, promise.” Swiftly grabbing my keys and ushering them out the door, I check my phone once more. No news on Emerald. Still no news. And my heart sinks.
* * *
The days blur together. I’m losing track of how many days she’s been gone, but the fact that I haven’t heard anything about Emerald arriving in the Bahamas has my stomach twisted into fucking knots, especially because Carmine is still after her.
Horrors of Emerald dead somewhere haunt me at night, and the longer she stays gone, the more anxious I become.
But we’re managing. Taking care of the family is my priority. Ensuring they have breakfast, braiding Giulietta’s hair, and dropping the kids off on time has become my morning routine.
The rest of each day is spent hunting down Emerald and slowly working on that missing money from the casino. That fucking missing money. I know it’s someone who has pull in the organization, but every time I think I’m close, everything goes quiet. It’s starting to piss me off almost as much as not knowing where the hell Emerald is.
I’m a wreck. I can see it in my haggard appearance, the dark circles under my eyes, and the irritation that’s made me snap at more than one casino employee.
No one knows a damn thing about the missing money. And yet, in this line of work, I know that’s a fucking lie. Someone, somewhere, knows something. I just need to figure out who. And when I do, I’m going to make them sing any and every way I fucking know how.
“Mr. Saint? Is it time for our tea party yet?” Giulietta asks me in a hopeful tone as she interrupts my dark thoughts.
I take a deep breath and suppress my sigh. Crouching onto my haunches so that I’m the same height as her, I make my voice gentle. “Not Mr. Saint. Call me Saint. Just Saint.”
Her tiny brow furrows in the same contemplative way that I see Em often do. “But it doesn’t sound right.”
“Well, what would sound right then?”
She tilts her head to one side, then shoots me a sweet smile. “You’re kinda like a dad to us. You know, Jaspar and me never knew our dad.”
Her words make me freeze.
“I know you’re not really my dad. But Em does a good job looking out for us like a mommy would. And you look out for us like a dad would. And anyway, you’re just how I’d want my dad to be.”
And my breath lodges in my throat.
“He’s not like a dad,” Jaspar interrupts. “He more like a big brother.”
Giulietta scowls. “No, he looks out for us like a daddy would.” She really doesn’t like being disagreed with.
“No, big brother,” Jaspar insists.
Giulietta’s eyes flare. “No, daddy.”
But Jaspar isn’t backing down. “Big brother!
“Daddy!” she yells.
“Big brother!” he yells back.
“Daddy!” Jeez, do the two of them ever agree on anything? Giulietta tilts her head to one side. “Maybe we can call him Big Daddy ?”
And my eyes widen. “No, no, no, that’s a bad idea,” I say quickly. “How about just Saint?”
She mulls this over for a few long moments. “Okay!” she trills, already forgetting her earlier objection to this.
I exhale. “Good, great.”
But then she looks slightly panicked. “But you will still be a daddy to my teddy bears, won’t you?” she asks in a small voice.
And I swallow down the knot in my throat. “Of course. I’m always going to be here for you, Jaspar, Milena, Em, and even… your teddy bears .” The last words stick in my throat, but I’ll say and do whatever this little girl needs to feel safe in this big bad world. And I’ll do whatever Emerald needs as well.
“You know, Mr. Saint…” She’s already forgotten that she agreed to drop the Mr. from my name. “I reckon the new baby’s gonna have an amazing life with you and Em as its mommy and daddy.” Somehow, Milena found out that Em is pregnant, probably via Jacquetta, and now Giulietta and Jaspar know as well. “Because you know how to braid hair now. And how to take us to school on time. And the baby will probably get to have a tea party every single day as well…”
And when she says that, a piece of my heart swells. If she reckons Emerald and me are doing a good job at parenting them all, then I know we’ve got a great chance of making this family work. Because in my mind, that’s what we are now. Me, Emerald, Milena, Jaspar, Giulietta, and the baby— a proper family .