Chapter Eight
The Weight Of An Absent Heart
Willow
I wake alone in the bed I supposedly share with my husband. I know he is a busy man, but I am officially over waking up alone. The stress of this entire trip is wearing on him and the fact that I had four of his father’s ex-capo’s jointed and added as wedding favors hasn’t helped the situation.
He did say that I could handle the situation however I wanted.
Did he actually think I was going to be logical in my approach to this?
That I would sit down and calmly speak to the men who were ruining their family’s lives?
If so, my dear husband clearly doesn’t know me as well as he thought he did.
I should probably do something to make these last few days easier for him, but I’m not sure that is within my purview.
I certainly don’t want to make it any worse.
My thoughts are scattered as I try to find a solution to the newest fiasco I inadvertently created.
Not that I didn’t get the damn message across.
Everyone is officially on notice and terrified of not just me and Rafe but also of Suzan and Eduardo. Which was exactly what I wanted.
I hope that the two of them are enjoying their short honeymoon. They can only be away for five days, and I hope they are making the most of that time.
“Fuck it,” I sigh into the empty room before rolling out of bed.
Padding across the thick carpet, I make my way into the bathroom to grab a shower before facing the day. The warm water helps to clear my mind and I finally know that I can’t undo what I have done. All I can do is make sure that the effects last.
Getting dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a plain black button-up shirt, I make my way down to the kitchen to grab some coffee.
I am all out of things to do in Cyprus so I intend to spend these next five days catching up on my reading until Rafe and I return to the states.
I know there is a shit storm waiting for us when we get there.
“Morning,” Luca says as I walk into the kitchen, before handing me a cup of coffee.
“How do you always know when I’m about to walk into the room and what I want?”
He chuckles but doesn’t tell me what I want to know before walking out to do whatever it is he does when he isn’t cooking.
Sipping at my coffee, I enjoy the silence.
But only for a moment before the loud ringing of my cell phone breaks through.
I consider ignoring it and just enjoying my last few days in Cyprus but eventually relent and answer it.
“Yeah.”
“Willow, please,” Regina cries on the other end of the line.
“What’s wrong?” I ask in a panic.
I’m already up and moving through the house, searching for my husband.
“There’s someone in the house,” she says in a lowered tone. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Go to my room. Behind my closet is a panic room,” I explain. “Once you’re inside, call the police.”
“The police?” she questions as I listen to her walk down the hallway.
“Yes, Gina. You are in danger and more than half the fucking force is on our payroll.”
“But...” The call goes dead and my blood turns to ice.
“Rafe!” I call out as I take the stairs two at a time, glad I opted to wear flats today.
Somewhere in the bowels of this monstrosity that Armand built a gunshot goes off. I walk faster in the direction that I think it came from. Luca walks out of one of the rooms, his face a mask of shock. Everything happens in slow motion.
Luca’s hand falls away from his stomach, revealing the bloom of red he was hiding. His knees give out and he slumps to the ground in a heap. I fall to my knees beside him.
“Luca! What the hell?”
“You need to hide,” he murmurs, all the color already draining from his face.
“You need a doctor,” I argue, pressing my hand against his abdomen to stem the flow of blood.
He shakes his head, the movement sluggish. “Please. Go hide.”
I watch his eyes track something behind me before I feel the prick against my skin. Swiveling, I face a man I have never seen as my body grows heavy and my vision turns fuzzy. I want to ask who the hell he is and what the fuck he wants but my mouth won’t work.
Another shot rings through the house as the man above me smiles cruelly. His smile reminds me of my uncle and I can feel fear clawing its way up my throat.
“You’ll fetch a fine price, Mrs. Gallo. And this should be a lesson to your husband to keep his nose out of my fucking business.”
It feels like I am floating and even though I try to fight it, my eyelids fall closed and the world around me is nothing but blackness.
****
I wake alone in an unfamiliar room. Dark furniture and robin’s egg blue bedding are the only things in this unknown space.
My mouth feels like it is stuffed with cotton wool and when I stand, my legs are wobbly beneath me.
I take a moment to allow my body to get used to being upright before I inspect the area.
There is a bathroom with a shower and not much else. I open the door to a wardrobe against the far wall and see nothing but lacy underwear. What the hell? Turning away, I walk toward the window and draw back the curtains to find only a wall behind it. Where the hell am I?
Panic slowly starts to envelop me and I can feel tears start to threaten. I fight back both and square my shoulders. I am Willow Hernandez fucking Gallo and I won’t allow myself to have a god damned panic attack before I even have an inkling of what the damn situation is.
A key turns in the lock of the door and I back away from it as fast as my feet will carry me until my back hits a wall.
The same man from the house walks in and faces me with a shit eating grin covering his face.
I watch him carefully as he studies me. Salt and pepper hair, dark eyes, and a winning smile.
He is dressed in an expensive dark blue suit and carries himself with the air of someone in control of his entire universe.
“Who are you?” I ask. “And why the fuck am I here?”
“I was told you have spirit,” he muses. “But I will remedy that soon enough.”
I glare at him. If he fucking touches me, I will take his damn head off.
“To answer your questions, I am Kirrill Singleton and you are here so I can teach your overstepping husband and his boy toy a lesson.”
This time when the panic settles over me, I let it. I am fucked and panic seems like the appropriate reaction to this situation.
“Don’t get comfortable. You won’t be here for long.”
“Rafe will come for me,” I hiss, trying to remain brave in the face of my worst nightmare.
“You’re probably right, my dear. But you won’t be here,” he adds with a grin. “And when he does find you, I’m sure he won’t want you, or at least what’s left of you, back.”
“You’re signing your death warrant, you fucking monster.”
“And with every word, you are only making sure that your punishment will be that much worse.” Two muscular men enter the room and stand on either side of Kirrill. “Now don’t fight, or this will be worse than it needs to be.”