Chapter 35
Samantha
Killian has closed the doors to The Lucky Sinner for the night.
He, Sully and I are waiting for the Italian gang in the dining room where Killian’s men have pulled tables together to make one gathering area.
His guards are thick on this deck, some of them have assault rifles. It makes the danger feel more real.
As Killian and Sully shake hands and greet them, I hold a portable touchscreen to my chest. The one that’s monitoring the bedroom where Rona is sleeping.
Killian’s two cousins, who he trusts with his life according to him, are stationed outside the door.
But it makes me feel better to be able to see her physically sleeping and know she’s safe, and the fact that Killian installed this camera just for me to feel better knocks another brick off the wall I was trying to keep between us.
Lennon steps around them and wraps me in a hug. Into my ear, she whispers, “Killian only told us you’re in danger. Whatever it is, you know Sandro has your back.” She pulls back and gives me a worried smile. “We all do. You’re family.”
“Thank you,” I say. “That means a lot.”
The elevator door opens again and Caelian, his younger brother Fausy and Big Tony step out. They’re dressed casually, but all wear serious expressions.
“The gang’s all here,” Sandro says, patting Killian on the back. “Shall we sit?”
“Aye.” Killian motions to the table where a waitress is filling water glasses.
There are also plates of charcuterie, fruits, meats, and cheeses in the middle.
Killian takes a seat at the head of the table with me on one side and Sully on the other.
Sandro sits at the other end, and I expect Lennon to sit at his side, but instead, she takes the seat next to me and Sandro’s men fill in the rest of the seats.
I give her a grateful smile as I lay the monitor on my lap.
“Please, help yourselves to the food while we chat. Drinks, gentlemen?” Killian motions to the waitress, who is standing by a liquor cart.
She nods, rolls it to the table and starts taking drink orders.
Sandro’s blue eyes glitter as he takes a sip of the bourbon he ordered then folds his hands on the table. “I hate to be impatient, but my wife isn’t by my side at the moment, and I’d like to change that.” He winks at Lennon then turns back to Killian. “So, what’s up?”
There’s some clattering of utensils as the men add some of the food to their own plates.
Killian glances at me. “You all know that Sam was the target at the wedding, yeah. But you don’t know the why. I think it’s best if Sam tells that story, and then we can chat about what it means for all of us.” He gives me an encouraging nod. “Go on, love.”
All eyes fall on me. Lennon reaches over and grasps my hand, which gives me a shot of courage.
I bite my lip. “Okay.” God, where to even begin? I raise my eyes to Sandro. “You know your father sent me here from New York. What you don’t know is I ask him for help to hide. To hide from a man named Michael Barone. But he’s found me.”
It takes me twenty minutes to tell them about my time as Michael’s captive.
At the point in the story about Michael chaining me and raping me until I was pregnant, Lennon must notice I’m dissociating.
She makes me stop and go to the restroom with her, where she guides me through some deep-breathing exercises to help me reconnect with my body.
Then I wash my face with cold water, and we return to the table.
Killian scrambles up, his face pinched with worry and pushes my chair in as I sit. Leaning down, he whispers in my ear, “You’re doing grand, brave girl.” Then lightly squeezes my shoulder before taking his seat.
Having his support fills me with the courage to go on. I lift the monitor off the table and face it toward the men. “This is Rona. She’s two.”
Lennon’s breath catches in her throat. “You have a daughter?”
Her eyes are wide as I turn the monitor so she can see better. A huge smile lights up her face. “You have a daughter. She’s beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I say. Then turning back to the men at the table, I add, “I was hiding her, but Michael’s men found her and Celia, the woman who helped me escape and is like a grandmother to Rona.
Rona’s here with me now but his men have Celia.
I honestly don’t know if she’s still alive, but I owe her so much.
We have to help her. Either way, Michael cannot get his hands on Rona again. ”
Sandro’s expression is tense, his voice laced with quiet rage as he says, “We will do everything in our power to make sure that doesn’t happen.
” He looks at his men, concern burning in his blue eyes.
“The only problem I see here is Dr. Sam mentioned organ trafficking. That wouldn’t be happening in New York if it wasn’t sanctioned by one of the families. The question is which one?”
Caelian nods in agreement. “And how far will they go to keep this Mr. Barone happy if he’s the one providing the merchandise.”
“We’ll have to talk to Father,” Rocco says, tossing down his napkin. “See how much he knows about this.”
Sandro checks his watch. “He’s probably still up, I’ll give him a call.” He excuses himself and walks out onto the deck, two guards trailing close behind.
Lennon turns to me, her eyes gleaming with something soft despite the situation. “Tell me about Rona.”
There are multiple conversations going on while Sandro is gone.
Killian is standing, talking to Gunnar and Rocco, but his eyes always drift back to me.
Big Tony is standing with two of the guards, a serious undercurrent to their conversation.
Caelian and Fausy are hunched over a cell phone, their expressions tight. I wonder if they’re looking up Michael.
Sandro returns, his face like a thunderous cloud as he rubs his forehead. He walks straight to Lennon and rests a hand on her shoulder, as if he needs her strength or is protecting her from whatever he’s about to say.
Everyone returns to their seats and gives him their attention.
His eyes soften with regret as he looks down at me, and I know this isn’t going to be good news.
“Michael Barone works for the Amato family. He brings in millions for them, so he’s got their full support and resources at his disposal.
Our father can’t interfere more than he already has by helping Dr. Sam hide. ”
“Fuckin’ Amato,” Rocco spits from the other side of the table. “He’s always been a piece of shit.”
Sandro nods in agreement and turns his attention to Killian. “The best our father can do is try to get you an audience with Joey Amato, ask him to handle Michael, get him to let Dr. Sam and her daughter go.”
Killian’s nostrils flare. “I’ll not be askin’ for Barone to let the girls go. I’ll try diplomacy first. But that man will not be walkin’ the same earth as Sam anymore, no matter what Amato says.”
“Agree. The cocksucker needs to be executed. I’m in,” Rocco speaks up.
Sandro sighs as he glares down the table at his younger brother. “Father specifically said to tell you to stay the fuck out of it.” He glances at his other men. “None of us can get involved without starting a war in New York.”
“It’s best I go alone, anyway,” Killian says. “Less of a threat, more of a conversation. And what will he want in exchange?”
Sandro shakes his head slowly. “Hopefully there’s something he wants that you can give him. If not…” he lets the threat hang.
Killian’s gaze skims over my face and his resolve hardens. “Make it happen.”
“Wait,” I say, staring at Killian, but my question is for Sandro. “How much danger is Killian walking into? Could Mr. Amato just decide Killian’s not leaving New York?”
Sandro shrugs a shoulder. “Always a possibility. Killian’s status as the son of The Maco may give him pause.
He won’t want the heat from the New York Irish.
Joey Amato isn’t known for his even temper or rational decisions, but money talks.
His focus has always been on profit. I’ll try to find something for you to work with. ”
“Settled, then.” Killian stands and shakes Sandro’s hand.
Lennon hugs me as the men stand and shake Killian’s hand in turn.
“Thanks, everyone,” I say. “I really appreciate your support.”
They all offer me sympathetic smiles.
“I’ll leave a few of my guards here to beef up your security,” Sandro says. Then he looks at me. “We’ll do everything we can to keep you and your little girl safe, Sam.”
Killian and I step into the elevator after everyone leaves, the only place we’re alone since guards are crawling all over the yacht.
I check the portable monitor. Rona’s sound asleep, tangled in the Egyptian cotton sheets, blissfully unaware of the danger we’re in.
My chest tightens. I feel myself floating away.
No. No. No.
I turn my head and focus on Killian’s hands. The scars, the thick veins, the tattoos, the silver rings. I have a sudden need to have them holding me, anchoring me to this world. To feel something besides pure terror.
The doors open on the bottom deck. Two guards turn and nod. Killian motions for me to go ahead of him, and we walk down the lighted hallway. I’d noticed the four VIP doors on our way out…two on each side. I pause and push one open.
Just as I thought, it’s an area for private client dances. I never gave private dances, but I’m in the mood to tonight. I step inside, eyeing the leather C-Shaped cushion and the pole.
Killian’s breath ghosts the back of my neck. “What are you doin’, love?”
I turn so he can see my profile and smile. “Feeling the need to dance.” Walking forward, I prop the monitor against the wall so I can keep an eye on it, then grasp the pole and slide my hand up. Meeting Killian’s burning gaze, I ask, “Got any music?”
Eyeing me like I’m the most puzzling creature he’s ever come across, he pulls out his phone. “You know you don’t owe me anything, yeah?”
I nod, but not because I agree, but because that’s not why I want to dance for him.