CHAPTER 29
Luna
“Ok?” I say, sounding out of breath.
Quinn pulls out the metal chair and the top of the backrest looks tiny in his massive hand.
“Did you not understand my warning?”
I frown at him, feigning confusion and I say nothing. I grew up in the Italian mafia. I was trained at a young age, when you’re backed into a corner by a fed, a rival clan, a nosy neighbor, you say abso. lutely. Nothing.
Quinn goes on, “Ten messages from him, Luna.”
Now my frown is real.
What the fuck?
“I don’t know what Vincenzo Baltoni knows about us, or what he thinks he knows, but he is insistent you meet up with him while you’re in Boston. He just texted you three minutes ago, so I wonder, how the hell does he know you’re in the city today?”
Vinny?
I school my features.
I don’t want to show my confusion or, more importantly, my complete and total utter, blinding, beautiful relief.
This is not about the laptop.
Thank you, God!
“That’s just a coincidence,” I start. I pick up my phone. “I’ve barely checked through all of my messages, I—”
“You haven’t replied to him yet but I wanted to remind you of our agreement,” he leans in and puts his hand over mine.
To the onlookers, it may look like a loving gesture.
It is not. His voice is barely above a whisper and so deep I feel it in my stomach.
“If you try to meet up with a man for any experiences, that’s fine. But he will be dead by nightfall.”
“You’re bluffing. You won’t kill Vinny.” I say, yanking my hand away. Because is this guy fucking for real right now? He rejects me a million times, is cold and condescending in the car on the way here before ignoring me for forty minutes, then has the audacity to be, what, jealous? No possessive.
Because I’m his.
Not even his, really, but just the title. The Irish mafia’s don’s wife. Skull Quinn’s wife.
Well, I might be his via some contract but I am not his to control. Plus, I’m sick of his contentedness with Sheila in the house, while I’m supposed to stay a virgin the rest of my life? I cross my arms and stare at my husband.
He stares back, his eyes black as death. Then without moving any other muscles, whistles a sharp sound. It cuts through the sounds of the cafe.
Mac nods and then takes out his gun and shoots into the ceiling.
“Shit!” I scream, along with twenty other people in this place.
“Everybody out! Now!”
The people listen, running and screaming.
“Are you insane?” I lean forward to ask Quinn, who has yet to flinch or twitch or break eye contact.
“Yes, it’s been well established. So when I tell you not to fuck around and find out, I mean it.”
“I haven’t even replied to Vinny!”
“Tell Vinny you’re married and will not be meeting him. Ever.”
My mouth falls open, “Then tell Sheila to stay the fuck out of our house.”
He flinches. Then smirks. “Sheila can come and go wherever she pleases.”
I grit my teeth and growl, “Are you seri—”
“Since she is my cousin, she is one of the few people I trust explicitly.”
“She’s your—”
Quinn sits back and spreads his legs like a king. He crosses his arms like I just did, making an obvious display of it. Smug.
“You are an asshole.”
“Yes, you said that in the car.”
“It bears repeating! I’m not hooking up with Vinny. I barely had a chance to check my messages at all before you stormed in here.”
“I’m not sorry.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Boss,” Not-Mac says.
“Time to go, the cops are coming,” I sing-song.
“Aye,” Quinn stands and offers me his hand up.
I reject his hand and mutter, “Unbelievable.”
I stand and gather my things. I sling the ugly bag over my shoulder and my relief evaporates.
Oh yeah, I’m actually in grave danger right now.
Quinn is clearly monitoring my texts but did he see my phone screen? The notes app? How long will it take them to solve my cipher and see it’s four addresses?
And!
I have to toss the USB transmitter into the trash. It was one of the points Vix made clear. For the same reason she had me stash the thing in my damn crotch.
How am I going to toss it? I have no trash, no napkin, nothing. I should’ve bought a coffee!
Chill, Luna. Focus.
First, phone still in my hand, I power it off. Maybe they haven’t gone through all my activity yet.
Next, I relax my shoulders, trying to seem relatively calm as I follow Quinn’s huge back out of the store, both of his men behind me.
I decide to put both hands in my back pockets.
It’s not a natural stance for me, I feel awkward and probably look it too, but as we walk quickly to the cars out front, it allows me to pull the little device into my left hand. I move that hand to my hip.
“Had to shoot off a gun? Couldn’t just, you know, talk to me?” I rant, nervous as hell. I hope my acting, playing that I’m annoyed, is convincing enough for the hand-on-hip stance.
Quinn opens the door for me. As I step to climb in, I stomp my feet dramatically and drop the transmitter at the same time, praying like hell that they don’t hear the noise as it lands on the gravel parking lot. At least I hope it lands in the gravel and not in the carpet that lines the SUV floor.
The incoming sirens cover the noise.
I look down. No metal pieces on the carpet.
The device is gone.
I’m in the clear.
At least until someone on his team digs into my notes app. My cipher is a simple letter replacement. It’ll take less than a second for AI to unscramble it.
I’ll have to deal with that when the time comes.
Right now, I need to regroup. Watch. Absorb all I can while we’re in the city.
“I would’ve thought you’d been around gunshots plenty,” Quinn says with a brow raised.
“I have.”
“You’re shaking.”
Shit! I am shaking. Breathe, Luna.
I lean into the irritation angle and sneer, “Well, it’s not normally around a bunch of innocent bystanders. Where to now? Any other cafes you want to shoot up?”
“A couple, but apparently we have to head back home.”
“What! No!” I gasp, genuinely upset. I plead, “I can’t go back there yet. All the quiet and the calm and the fucking fresh air. Please.”
“Well, wife, I have to go to the office and I’m sure as fuck not taking you with me.”
“Please, I’m actually begging,” I say, placing my hand on his where it rests on the leather seat. It was a move I made without thinking. A simple gesture but an intimate one. His hand is impossibly huge and rough and warm and it flinches under my touch.
“Tell me you’ve given up,” he says, “Tell me you’re ready to be a Quinn. Tell me I can trust you.”
I sigh and move my hand away. He and I both know I haven’t given up.
“Blindfold me?” I offer.
He huffs a small laugh. “At least you’re honest,” he shifts forward to talk to whichever MiniQuinn is driving us.
“Loop around for an hour. Mac, turn a hot spot on.” He looks back at me with a hint of a smirk as he settles into his seat, “Get out your phone, Lasa. You’ve got sixty minutes.
” His smirk disappears. “And you start by replying to Vinny.”
“Thank you,” I say as I pull out the device I just turned off.
I obey, immediately opening my messages and telling Vinny not to contact me anymore.
Then I block him, so he doesn’t get himself killed.
We’ve made out a couple times, there was some boob grabbing if I remember right.
Nothing major, but that won’t stop him from running his stupid mouth.
Men. Yeah Vinny, that one mediocre make out session was so great I can’t wait to do it again. Ugh. Moving on!
I text back Zeno and a couple female cousins I don’t totally hate. I reply to some gifs from Mia, let Ellie know I’m in the city. I send a sunglasses emoji and hope she reads between the lines. Yes, bestie, I did some online research and I’m still alive.
Although, how the heck do I get the addresses from the notes app into my brain? I wasn’t able to memorize them in those few seconds. Crap. I’m going to have to figure out where they keep my phone. Or, maybe without internet, Quinn will let me keep it.
That thought is cut short by a walkie talkie transmission about shift change.
Quinn yells at the front seat in that melodic language of theirs, pissed I heard the message.
“You should have more guards on the far west side,” I say, because he should.
He looks over at me, face still angry at the misstep.
His jaw works. I shrug and go on, “You should. You know the fence line comes close to that narrow county road over there and a couple days ago on one of my walks I saw a power company rig. Or at least,” I raise a brow, “a truck painted to look like it’s one of the power company’s fleet. ”
“Hm,” is all he says, or hums, in response. But he narrows his eyes.
Because, shit, why did I tell him that?
Now he thinks I’m trying to mess with his mind, which I should be doing. But I genuinely just told him something helpful. Why?
Ugh!
Time to get back to my phone, my friends, my old life waiting for me back home. Then I hear a typing sound and look over at him again.
He’s typing angrily.
On his 2002 flip phone.
I laugh. I get the actual giggles.
He shifts his gaze from his phone to me, ever so deliberately, angrier than before. Between his teeth he asks, “Is this the shock bubbling out?”
“Po-po-” I can’t even talk I’m laughing so hard, “Possibly.”
“What?” He frowns.
“It’s like watching a big grizzly bear type into a child's toy!” I say, unable to stop myself. Then I do my best impression. “Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Get a fucking iPhone Quinn seriousl—.”
He grabs me, putting one of those huge, clumsy hands over my mouth and pulls my back into his wall of a chest. I’m still laughing, still shaking, and I feel him chuckling behind me. The noise is a deep rumble up my spine.
I exhale, the kind of happy post-laugh breath that feels really damn good, only to realize his other arm is locked across my chest. And I don’t hate it.
And he can definitely feel my breaths, my tits pushing up and down aaaand shit.
Now I have goosebumps. Which means he’s definitely feeling my nipples in his forearm.
Another sound vibrates behind me, lower, softer.
I immediately pull away. I’m shocked Quinn lets me go.
I can see his eyes on me, as if he’s waiting to see what I’ll say or do next. But my face is burning crimson and it’s not the only location on my body that feels like it’s on fire. So I focus back on my messages and social media accounts.
Long before I’m ready, the car pulls to a stop.
“Time to go,” Quinn says to me. He reaches across and opens my door. Beside us another big black SUV is waiting, back door ajar.
“Wait,” I fumble as Mac reaches for the laptop bag in my grip. “Can I have my phone if it’s on airplane mode? I read books on there and—”
“Mancini,” Quinn glares, annoyed, “No way in hell you’re keeping your phone. I’ll buy you any paperback book you want, write a list. Now go home.”
I huff before climbing out. Before I’m all the way out of the cab, Quinn adds, “Give your list to Sheila. Tell her I said hello.”
Smug.
Asshole.
I don’t look back, don’t give him a reaction.
As if he wasn’t out of his mind about Vinny just an hour ago? Didn’t shoot up an actual coffee shop in a jealous rage? I mean, not that I was jealous about what I thought was happening with Sheila. This is about manipulation, not emotion.
I settle in the back of the second car and watch as Quinn’s vehicle pulls in front of us, then turns in the opposite direction.
I glance around. There’s a bridge off in the distance with a tall building right beside it.
I glance up at the sun and look at the car’s clock.
Not sure where we are but I can find out.
And from here Quinn headed south. Noted.
And.
I fight a smile as we merge onto the highway that leads out to Quinn’s estate.
Somewhere on his compound there is some wifi, and he doesn’t want me to find it.
But I think he knows the truth by now.
I will absolutely find it.
It’s only a matter of time and unfortunately, I’ve got nothing but that these days.
If my life has taught me anything it’s how to be one sneaky, tenacious, patient little bitch.
So, that’s what I’ll be.