Chapter 31 Erin
Erin
My heart swells full and hollow all at the same time. It feels like my daughter has broken into a thousand little pieces and I’m holding them all together in my arms, afraid that if I ever let her go, she’ll fall apart.
Augusto paces the room, his gaze occasionally darting to the bodies bleeding out on the wooden floor.
I can smell the blood, thick and metallic, making me nauseous.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” Paige whispers hoarsely. Her body is shaking so much, there’s a very real chance I might drop her.
I hug her even tighter. “You did nothing wrong, sweetheart. Nothing at all.”
“But I shouldn’t h—”
“Stop,” I say, softly. “You did nothing wrong. Truly. When we get out of here, we’ll talk. For now, we need to stay alert.”
“What’s going to happen?” she says, hiccupping through the words.
I glance up at Augusto pacing. I hardly know this man. Only two days ago I discovered he’s part of a criminal organization and now I’ve seen him murder four men without a second thought.
I should be terrified of him, but I’m not.
My own husband, goddamnit, had a gun pointed at our daughter. If Augusto hadn’t shot him, I’d have killed him myself. I don’t know how, but I’d have made a decent attempt.
I’d have died trying.
“Augusto is going to get us out of here. We just have to be patient—and quiet.”
“Who is he?” she whispers, eyeing him warily.
I try to keep it noncommittal because now isn’t the time nor place to explain the exact nature of our relationship. “I’ve been working for him for a few days.”
“Is it true?” Her words shiver, broken.
I peer down at her tear-sodden face, her eyes red raw, a violent rash where the tape had been. “Is what true?”
“You haven’t been waitressing. You’ve been…” She swallows.
My head suddenly feels light. I didn’t take this job to be an escort as such, but it sure looks like that’s what I’ve been.
“Augusto needed someone to pretend to be his wife for a week,” I say with a sigh. “He offered me good money to do it. So, yes, you’re right, I haven’t been waitressing, but nor have I been selling my body, okay? Augusto has treated me with nothing but respect.”
“Oh—okay,” she says, side-eyeing him again.
“He’s a good man,” I assure her.
Her small fingers curl into my shirt. “How do you know that?”
I look across at Augusto, the light catching his silver stubble, illuminating the rounded muscle beneath his shirt and my heart flutters.
“It’s complicated. I just do.”
I turn back to Augusto. “Should we just make a run for your car?”
His eyes are dark and hooded and he shakes his head. “The valet parked it behind two other cars—I can’t get it out. Besides, if we walk out there, we put ourselves in direct firing lines.”
“But there doesn’t seem to be anyone around,” I say, gesturing to the quiet space outside the window.
“That’s what they want us to think.”
Paige tightens her grip. “Mom…”
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “Augusto knows what he’s doing.”
“But how? Why does he have a gun? Why was—” she stops mid-sentence, swallows and considers her words. “Why was Dad so pissed at him?”
I run a hand through her hair and bring her head into my chest. I can’t lie to her, not when we’re hiding out in a hotel suite because our protector just shot three people dead, after her own father tried to kill her first.
How is this my life?
“Augusto works for the Di Santo’s,” I say, slowly.
“The what?”
“Cristiano Di Santo,” I try again, knowing she’s definitely heard about the notorious crime family on the news. “He works for Cristiano Di Santo.”
She still looks at me like I’ve grown four heads.
I sigh, tightly. “He’s in the mafia, Paige.”
Her eyes glisten with terror. “What?” She turns her gaze to Augusto who has resumed his pacing. “Is it true?”
He darts her a sympathetic look. “Yeah.”
“Um, right.” Her gaze drops to the floor like she’s stunned. “That’s kinda… cool.”
I glare at her. “Cool?”
Guilt flickers over her. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m—I’m just in shock.”
When I cut to Augusto, he arches a brow. “I like her.”
“When are they getting here?” I change the subject. “The… I mean… whoever’s coming.”
“They’re two minutes away.”
Relief seeps out of me. “Oh, thank God,” I breathe. “Come on,” I say, pulling Paige to her feet. “We need to be ready to move.”
Gerard’s blood has formed a sizeable puddle around his body and we have to side-step it to get to the window.
As we’re looking out at the clear, empty, peaceful gardens, a loud bang rattles the building.
“They’re here,” Augusto says, calmly. “Wait while I check the corridor. Don’t stand too close to the window.”
Paige stares at me wide-eyed and I try my hardest to school my features into something resembling calm, but it’s hard when my pulse is hammering wildly.
In the distance, out of view, I hear male voices barking commands and more gunshots. Each one makes me jerk out of my skin. I pull Paige close and cover her ears as best I can.
“What’s happening?” she whispers.
“I don’t know,” I murmur.
Augusto bends his head around the doorway. “Okay, come this way. Stay close to me.”
I take Paige’s hand and follow Augusto into the corridor. Staying snug to the wall, we creep quietly down toward the dining room. I dare not breathe in case it alerts someone to our presence.
Another gunshot shakes the walls and I grip Paige’s hand even tighter.
“My men are going to distract the other guests so we can get outside,” Augusto whispers low. “There’ll be a car waiting for us on the drive.”
I nod briskly, not daring to speak.
He holds my gaze for a second or two, a look passing between us, then a door opens in front, Augusto reacts too slowly, and suddenly there’s a length of rope around his neck.
Paige’s scream could curdle blood, spurring me to do the unthinkable.
While Augusto fights against the rope and the man holding it around him, I reach into his waistband and pull out his gun.
The man’s gaze cuts to me and he wrestles Augusto’s body in front of his, making it deliberately hard for me to aim at him.
But I know just how heavy Augusto is. I know he’s not easy to maneuver, even if he has a rope around his neck.
I step to the side and point the gun at the man’s head. I’m so fucking done with this shit, and I need to get my daughter out of here.
I press my finger on the trigger and the next thing I know, my back is blasted against the wall and I’m flat on my ass, Paige pulling on me to stand.
“Mom, get up! You have to get up!”
I stare ahead. The man’s brains are all over the opposite wall. Augie is still standing, yanking the rope from around his neck.
“Jesus, remind me not to get on your bad side,” he mutters, sending a flare of lust through me in the most inconvenient of places.
He bends down and hauls me to my feet, picks the gun up off the floor where I dropped it and shoves it back into his pants.
“Who was he?” I whisper as we step over the body. In some sick twisted way, I want to know who I just murdered.
“A middleman,” Augusto replies, keeping his eyes dead ahead. “He stepped in after the Russian went missing. He was working for your husband.”
Another bolt of shock thunders through my stomach, knocking me off balance. How did I not know the man I married was such a monster?
We creep through the dining room, listening to the shouts echo through the lobby. I swallow. We have to walk through the lobby to get outside.
“Stay close,” Augusto says. I realize that in my fear, I’ve lagged behind.
As we near the entrance to the lobby, he turns to us both. “I’m going to need you to stay behind me at all times, okay?”
I nod and grip Paige’s hand.
“Okay,” he nods. “On three.”
My heart leaps into my throat and sweat breaks out across every inch of my skin.
“One, two, three… Let’s go.”
We half-walk, half-run behind Augusto as we enter the lobby. Three men are down, blood running from their skulls. I recognize two of them as wait staff—supposedly. Another man is standing by the concierge desk, his gun raised. He jerks his head at Augusto.
We follow Augusto out of the building and finally take in a lungful of air unpolluted by the smell of death.
I don’t get a chance to do anything else because Augusto has taken hold of my hand and is pulling me and Paige towards another shiny black SUV.
The door opens as we reach it and Augusto practically shoves us both inside.
He jumps into the front passenger seat and the driver presses his foot flat to the floor.
Smoke from the kicked up gravel fills the rear view as we burn down the drive. Gunshots ring out behind us but nothing touches the car. Still, I hold my breath until we’re well out of sight of the retreat. We’ve been driving for a good ten minutes before I finally feel able to breathe.
Augusto speaks to the driver in a voice so low I can’t make out what he’s saying. I lean forward as far as the belt will let me.
“Where are we going?”
Augusto turns slightly, his sharp jaw making my stomach turn over. “There’s a safe house a few miles from here. Arrow is meeting us there with Mallorie and your mom is on her way. You can all stay there until we’ve finished this thing and you’re no longer in any danger.”
“What do you mean ‘finish this thing’?” I ask, frowning. “Gerard was the main guy wasn’t he? Isn’t it over?”
“He was the orchestrator, yes,” Augusto says, long thick lashes fanning over his cheeks as he patiently explains. “But there are still sellers and buyers and highly coveted weapons. The goods are already in transit, and the other guests will want to make sure the deal goes ahead.”
“But, what did Gerard mean when he asked you to call off the dogs?”
Augusto runs his tongue along his top teeth. He seems to be deliberating how much to tell me. Then he decides.
“The goods are being held in a port that we operate in. They don’t go anywhere unless we release them.
By ‘dogs’ he means port security. We don’t want to release the goods at all, but if we stall for too long, we’ll attract unwanted attention, and the whole reason I came up to this retreat was to stop that from happening in the first place. ”
“So, what will happen if you let the goods go and those firearms make their way to the middle east? And what will happen if you don’t release them? What will happen to us?”
Augusto doesn’t answer straight away.
The world outside blurs into streaks of green and blue, but inside the car everything feels suspended. Paige’s head is tucked into my shoulder, her fingers fisted in my shirt like if she loosens her grip for even a second I might disappear.
I stroke her hair, soothing us both.
Finally, Augusto exhales.
“If we release them,” he says evenly, “those weapons will reach a part of the world that is already too fragile, giving those who don’t know how to handle power, more than they know what to do with.”
My stomach drops.
“And if you don’t?”
His gaze flicks to me in the seat behind.
“Then the buyers lose millions. The sellers lose leverage. And every man who came to that retreat will start looking for someone to blame.”
My throat tightens. “Us.”
“Me,” he corrects. “Primarily.”
The car falls silent again, heavy with the weight of what he isn’t saying.
“And you,” he adds, softly. “Because you are with me.”
Paige shifts against me, her breathing uneven but slowing. I press my lips to the top of her head.
“What happens if they find us?” I ask.
Augusto’s jaw flexes. “They won’t.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No,” he agrees. “But it’s a promise.”
The driver takes a sharp turn and the car slows, gravel crunching under the tires again as a narrow, tree-lined road comes into view. Tall pines line both sides, swallowing the light.
My pulse hasn’t stopped racing since we fled the retreat.
“So, let me get this straight. If you let the goods go, you stop a war with those men. And if you don’t… you start one.”
“I don’t intend to start a war,” he says.
“You think they’ll just walk away from millions of dollars’ worth of weapons because you ask nicely?”
One corner of his mouth lifts, but there’s no humor in it.
“I don’t ask nicely, Erin.”
Of course he doesn’t.
I look down at Paige again. There are faint marks still visible on her wrists and her lashes tremble every time the car hits a bump.
A wrought iron gate appears ahead, already sliding open before we reach it.
“So, what happens now?” I ask, as a stately house comes into view.
Augusto turns his shoulders toward me.
“For now, I make sure you and Paige are safe,” he says, firmly.
“And you?”
His eyes hold mine. They’re dark, opaque and possessive.
“I finish what I came here to do.”
My breath stutters, and the gate closes behind us with a heavy clang.
Finally, we’re safe.
And yet, when his gaze lingers on my skin a little too long, I realize the most dangerous thing in this entire situation isn’t the weapons, or the men who are probably hunting us, or the war that is now brewing.
It’s the way that, even now, with everything falling apart around us, I feel like Augusto Zanotti might just be my home.