30. Betrayal
THIRTY
BETRAYAL
TROY
The evening dragged on.
After Shark departed, I paced Alessio’s office, demanding answers. Shockingly, and very much on a need-to-know basis, Alessio answered.
Shark went on a mission where he would meet my brother Denver and prevent La Falena from killing him and taking the ransom money.
This terrified me enough to sit down for a while and pat my belly, at which point, I saw my gigantic engagement ring. Seeing it prompted me to ask Alessio what we’d do when Denver found out about Shark and me. The whole point of me marrying Shark was so he could bring me into his family, which is clearly run by Alessio. But now my brother will meet Shark and ask about me.
Alessio assured me that Denver and Shark will never meet. Shark will slip in and out of the hotel room without being noticed like he’s done a hundred times over. This mission is a walk in the park for him. No big deal.
Alessio told me to relax. I told him to go fuck himself.
We’ve made nice since then.
He brought me a blanket and a pillow so I can lounge in his oversized reading chair while he stands at the window and drinks his third whiskey. Valerina’s sitting at his desk, twirling in the chair, angry with Shark for not allowing her to “tap into the feed.” I think that means he blocked her from seeing what he was doing. It sounds like something he would normally allow her to see, so I’m left wondering why he hasn’t.
As time passes, Alessio checks his watch more often, which makes me nervous. I imagine even if he was worried, he wouldn’t show distress. We wait.
The old clock chimes at three in the morning, and I can feel the nervous energy Alessio is now projecting. The meeting with Denver was at eleven. I’m no expert, but I’m not stupid either. If Shark is slipping in and out before the meeting, shouldn’t he have already returned home? It’s been five hours since.
Alessio’s phone rings. He retrieves it immediately, and I jump out of the chair and rush at him. I stand in front of him, trying to hear what the person on the other line is saying, and when I can’t make out what what’s going on, I try to read Alessio’s expression. But it’s like standing in front of a wall waiting for it to crack open and reveal an alternate universe where Shark’s riding rainbow-farting ponies and that’s why he’s late.
Alessio slides the phone back into his pocket. His blue-eyed gaze tells me nothing, his expression still and passive. It’s like the man is a statue.
“Who was it? What did they say? Is he alive?” Oh God. Is he dead?
“That was Miro’s brother,” Alessio says.
“Shark has a brother?”
Alessio nods. “From the orphanage.”
Ah. Not a blood relative, but someone he bonded with when he was young. I wonder why he never mentioned him. “Well, what did his brother call about at this hour?”
Alessio scrubs his jaw and glances over my head, probably at Val, who is sitting at the desk behind me.
“Someone talk to me!” I scream at the top of my lungs. My belly tightens in a contraction, and I rub it, hoping I won’t deliver before my time. But these folks are stressing me out. “I want to know. I have the right to know.” I turn to Valerina. “Please. We’re friends, aren’t we? Aren’t we, Val? Or was all this a big lie?” I’m crying again. Eh, what’s new?
Alessio takes out a cloth handkerchief and hands it to me. I note the letter A sewn elegantly in the corner of the soft cloth before I wipe my eyes with it. I’m tempted to blow my nose and hand it back to him, but think better of it because I’m trying to get him to tell me something, not piss him off by behaving like an immature girl.
“They arrested him,” Alessio says.
OH MY GOD.
“That’s why he’s late,” Val concludes and curses.
“Arrested him? But how?” I ask, because I have nothing else to say, and I need to know more and nobody is sharing anything.
“With cuffs, I imagine,” Alessio answers.
“Bless your heart,” I say sweetly, “for sharing that groundbreaking bit of information. As the daughter of a sheriff, not to mention a grown woman, I’d have never known that’s how arrests are made. Then there’s the unknown of having never dated a hitman before, so I’m out of touch with his professional hazards. I’m so happy to have you here to educate me.”
I hope my passive aggression comes across loudly and clearly. I think it does because Alessio puts the empty whiskey glass on the desk. He leans back on the windowsill, crosses one ankle over the other, and presses his palms together as if he’s praying, but I think that’s just the way he concentrates. Two fingers tap against each other.
One. One-two.
One. One-two.
Oh no. I recognize that rhythm. It’s a sign of distress in this family.
“They arrested him for murder of Marco Nikaj, a.k.a. La Falena. They’re interrogating him.”
“But…but you said Shark’s coming home tonight. You said this is one of his easiest missions. You said he’s the best. Never gets caught. You said?—”
“Silence.” Alessio’s voice slices through my downward spiral like a whip.
Another contraction tightens my belly, and I wince.
Alessio notices. “Sit down,” he says.
My ass hits the reading chair, and he comes over, picks up the blanket, and throws it over me. Then he crouches in front of me, staring.
This is unnerving. I swallow.
I can’t hold his gaze. It feels like staring into a winter storm wearing nothing but pajamas. I pick at the blanket, glance at him, find him staring, feel even more uncomfortable, and look away again.
“Did he say anything to you before he left?” Alessio asks.
I snort. “What you saw is how we parted. He just took off into the sky. You were the last one to speak with him, so I should ask you that question.” When Alessio doesn’t move, I glance at him again. “I’m telling the truth.”
“I believe you.”
If he believes me, why is he still in my space? God, this man is like ice. “Can you get him out?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s not what I want to hear.”
“I’m crushed that I’m underdelivering on your expectations.”
“Don’t mind him,” Val says. “He’s hurting and lashing out.”
Alessio rises and starts to pace the office the way I did a few hours ago.
Now I’m really worried. “Are you sending him a lawyer?”
Alessio shakes his head. “No need. Not for Miro’s case.”
“At the police station, what are they going to do with him?”
“Interrogate him,” Alessio’s jaw clenches. “Put him behind bars where someone will chop his head off with a guillotine!” He’s mumbling in foreign tongues, several different ones, if I hear correctly.
I’m mad at Shark. I’m mad at Alessio, Val, the world, but mainly at Shark for leaving me here. But also, I love him and I want him back. Shit. I’m in love with a guy who’s in jail and facing the guillotine. “Is there nothing we can do to help him?”
“There is,” Alessio says, and I perk up in the chair.
He levels me with a stare. “I can ask his brother to snap his neck.” Alessio extends his hands and jerks them to the side, showing me how he’d do it.
He’s losing it. “That’s not very helpful,” I say.
“On the contrary. It’s the one option that rules supreme over all others.”
“But there are other options?” I prompt.
Val nods but remains quiet. Smart woman. I should probably take cues from her, but I’m a student at the School of Hard Knocks, and the new semester started five minutes ago. “Shark’s your favorite lollipop,” I blurt.
Alessio frowns. “My what?”
“Never mind.”
Alessio tells Val to secure him a line so he can call someone named Niksha, and once the man answers, Alessio switches to a foreign language that sounds similar to the one he speaks with Shark.
Poor Shark. I imagine him sitting alone in the interrogation room. I wish he never went. I wish I never told him about La Falena.
I wish I married him.
I wish I never met him.
I wish this would all end.
Oh no, I don’t like where my head is going. “Make it stop. Please make it stop,” I say to nobody but God, who might hear me.
Alessio walks to his desk and grabs a key. He opens a drawer and pulls out a gun, which he tucks behind his pants. “Take whatever you want to take with you,” he says, “and meet me at the helipad in ten minutes.” With that, he rushes out of the room.
I stare at Val, then get up as she rises and stretches her hands toward me. She hugs me and tucks my hair behind my ears. “It was so nice meeting you. I wish we could keep in touch, but life often makes strangers out of good friends. Good luck.”
“Why are you saying goodbye to me?”
“Because you’re going with Alessio.” She tucks a hand under my elbow and walks me out of the office and toward the backyard. “Let’s get you packed.”
I stop. “I have nothing to take. Just talk to me, please. Tell me what going on.”
“You have a suitcase full of money,” she reminds me.
“Are we going to use it to bail Shark out of jail?”
“Mia cara, no amount of money can bail Miro out. He’ll accidentally die in custody.”
“No,” I shake my head. “We must do something.”
“We are.” Alessio arrives with a large vest he shakes out right in front of me. When I frown, Alessio shakes it out again. “Put it on.”
Oh. Okay. He helps me into it while Val buttons it over my belly. “I’m afraid,” I tell them, hoping they’ll comfort me.
No comfort comes. Alessio doubles down on the scare factor when he steps into my personal space, his blue eyes becoming even paler than before.
“You have amnesia and remember nothing,” he tells me in a tone that makes me soak up every word like a sponge. “Val and I do not exist, and neither does a man who goes by the name Miroslav. If you speak about my family”—he lowers his head to whisper in my ear, his strong lavender-laced sandalwood cologne stuffing my nose—“the next time we meet, it will be on Miro’s grave. And just in case he means nothing to you when one of the agencies offers you protection in exchange for your memories, when they offer you a new home, a new life, remember this: You and I will share a cup of coffee the very next morning after you move into your new place.”
Alessio steps back.
It takes a me a few seconds to understand what he told me and just that long to form a reply. “Bless your heart, Capital. You sure know how to sweeten up a threat.”
“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.” He offers me his hand. “Here’s the deal. Your freedom for Miro’s. It’s a fair deal and one I think you’ll welcome.”
When I don’t shake his hand, Val says. “Alessio has arranged a quiet exchange. He will hand you over, and they will give us Miro back.”
“Shark’s coming home?” I ask.
The siblings nod in unison, and it’s the first time I see the similarities between them. The shape of their eyes. The plush mouths. The square jaws.
“And I’m going back to Tennessee?” I ask just to double-check.
They nod again.
“None of this ever happened.” I swallow past the lump in my throat that keeps growing as I talk. “Got it. Delete memories. Got it. I can do that. I’m pretty good at that. Just don’t tell Dr. Gruber. He keeps asking me to remember.”
Val’s eyes cloud with tears, and she extends her hands toward me again, but Alessio steps in her way. “Go to bed, Valerina.”
She leaves, and I march toward the helipad, my arms pressed against my chest, holding in my heart so I can take it with me.
“Wrong way,” Alessio says.
Ironically, that’s the story of my life.