Chapter 14 – Sienna
SIENNA
The guard hovers in the hallway, muscly arms folded across his impressively broad chest, facing forward.
“I’m not going anywhere. You can sit down.”
His pale grey eyes meet mine before unsmiling, he returns to staring at a spot on the wall. It's unnerving, being supervised like this, but I suppose I should get used to it. Luca clearly doesn’t trust me.
After helping myself to a soda from the obscenely huge fridge, waving away Carmella’s attempts to get it for me, I sit and open the folder again.
Page after page of hard men with cold eyes stare back. All of them look somewhat similar, Eastern European or Russian maybe, with strong jawlines, deep-set eye sockets, and cheekbones most women would die for.
None of them look familiar. Tempering my disappointment, I reason it was never going to be that easy, that Luca would just hand me a few pictures, and I’d immediately recognize the man who bumped into me, but a girl can dream.
It would have been nice to find the guy fast. I’ve struggled with the knowledge that the shooter would face the Calvano’s instead of a court of law, but with the news that Kate has passed, my guilt has lessened.
Anyone who kills an innocent woman on her engagement night deserves whatever he gets.
Vito appears and leaps onto the bench beside me, padding across the buttery soft leather before settling into my lap. I scratch behind his ears absently as I turn yet another page, gazing out at the dwindling sunlight.
“Why don’t you take a break? You’ve been looking through those for hours.”
Carmella wipes the counters studiously, avoiding even glancing in the direction of the photos spread before me.
Shaking my head, I give her my best enthusiastic smile. “I’d prefer to keep going. The sooner I get this done, the better for everyone.”
Without saying another word, she deposits another cup of coffee in front of me and continues to cook, setting the table for dinner with two places across from each other. My thoughts keep drifting to Luca. Whether he’s okay and how difficult this must be, praying he’s not in any real danger.
Rubbing my gritty eyes, I yawn, lack of sleep finally catching up with me. My body is finally giving up, the adrenaline and fear I’ve been running on starting to fade, leaving only exhaustion behind.
“No luck?” Tony asks, giving the guard a nod as he enters the kitchen, showered and clean-shaven.
“No. I’ve been through it twice, but nobody is jumping out at me.”
When he sets another hefty binder down on the table, I stare at it and groan, resting my head in my two hands.
“Time is of the essence,” Tony says by way of apology. “Luca needs to find who did this.”
Remembering Luca’s drawn face as he left, I nod. “Is Kate’s family really on their way?”
Tony presses his lips shut.
“Luca went to meet them with Enzo, but they haven’t come back yet…” I stare out the vast window toward the empty driveway where there’s been no activity for hours. It’s making me nervous.
Tony sighs. “I imagine Luca and the O’Sullivan’s have a lot of arrangements to make.” He stares down the long, empty driveway. “Her family is probably… upset.”
His big hands clench into fists and uncurl, tattoos on the back of his knuckles stretching, before he shoves them into his pants pockets. I get the impression he wants to be with them.
“They can’t blame Luca for what happened… can they?”
Tony meets my eye steadily. “People in our world don’t trust easily, and the O’Sullivan’s trusted Luca.
So while he may not have hurt her himself, it’s possible this happened because of a previous action he took or a deal gone wrong.
It’s a tough world we live in, Ms. Fox. An eye for an eye.
” He taps the binder and slides it my way.
“All we can do is try to make sure it’s the right someone. ”
No pressure then.
Before I can ask any more questions, like whether Luca will be home at all, Tony turns and leaves me alone once more in the vast kitchen.
Luca’s under no obligation to tell me what he’s doing, but I won’t be able to relax until I see him myself.
Head pounding, I slam the first binder shut, despondent at not being able to find our man among this batch of pictures. Needing a break before I tackle the next book, I move to the table to eat the dinner Carmella just set down, just as car doors slam outside.
I keep my eyes down, refusing to watch the door like some eager housewife waiting for her husband to come home even though that’s exactly how I feel.
But then his footsteps sound in the foyer, the exchange of words I can't make out, and despite myself, when a shadow falls across the doorway, I look up.
Luca looks exhausted, his jaw dusted with stubble that suits him, and dark shadows under his eyes. Enzo hovers behind him for a moment before peeling off down the hallway with a brusque nod in my direction.
"Anything?" Luca asks, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of his chair while nodding toward the two binders.
"Not yet. I’m just starting the second one."
He nods, looking resigned rather than disappointed. His shirt is wrinkled, the dark cotton straining across his shoulders as he rolls his neck, stretching over impressive muscles that I don't remember being quite so defined. He's filled out since college, in a good way.
Carmella slides a plate onto the table, and he wraps an arm around her, still standing, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. She pats him on the back before slipping away quietly.
Luca shirks out of his holster next, hanging it on the back of the chair as casually as removing a tie. I stare at it as it swings and settles against the wood with a dull thud, reminding me exactly who I'm dealing with.
"How was it?" I ask, pretending not to be bothered by it. "At the hospital?"
He crosses to the sink and rolls up his sleeves, exposing strong, veiny forearms dusted with dark hair. He splashes water on his face, running damp fingers through his hair, and I hate that I notice the way his shirt clings to his back, the breadth of him blocking out the light from the window.
"Maeve O'Sullivan wants blood." He reaches for a towel and turns to face me. "Preferably mine, but she’s willing to hold fire for now and give me some time to find the hitman. Hopefully Finn falls into line."
Hopefully. My gut twists at the thought that Luca’s in real danger.
Luca though, doesn’t seem as worried as I am. Dropping into the chair, thick thighs spread wide, he leans back, closing his eyes for one unguarded moment, allowing me to admire him.
He was always handsome, but now he’s beyond good-looking, he’s devastatingly gorgeous. Hard muscles, tanned skin, black eyelashes and brows, and thick hair I can remember touching all the time. It’s hard to believe a man like this was once mine, once wanted me.
But, I remind myself, glancing at his gun, this man is not that man anymore.
After a slow exhale, Luca sits upright, catching me staring. I drop my gaze back to the delicious pasta in front of us, heat creeping up my neck. The tension radiating off Luca is impossible to ignore. He’s like a storm cloud sitting across the table.
For a few minutes, we eat in silence. The food is incredible, but I barely taste it, my mind still reeling from the absurdity of this situation, and yet the utter normalcy of sitting down to eat with a man who was once my everything.
"So what happens now?" I ask finally.
"Now I kill the shooter before the Irish start a war," Luca says it so matter-of-factly that I know he’s not being dramatic. This is the reality he’s facing.
"And if you don't?"
His fork pauses halfway to his mouth. "That's not an option."
Perhaps I should leave him alone. We’ve both had a long few days. But this might be the only chance I get to speak to him with nobody else around. If they find the shooter tonight, I might be handed a check and shown the door.
“Do you ever wish you had escaped all of… this?”
Luca’s brown eyes, unblinking and wild, lift from his plate, staring at me like he can’t believe I had the nerve to ask him this question. But I knew his heart back then. He didn’t want any part of the family business; he wanted to walk away and hand it over to Nico and Enzo.
“This…” he sweeps his hands around at our luxurious surroundings, “isn’t too shabby.”
I wait, knowing that deep inside, Luca doesn’t really care as much about these material things as an outsider might think. As he moved his arms, my attention drawn to his bulging biceps, he stares back at me. "Don’t you wish you’d done better for yourself?"
His words cut like a knife, and seeing my appalled reaction, he holds up a hand, backtracking a little.
But instead of letting him explain what he meant, my exhaustion and anger get the better of me.
"Because working as a waitress is so shameful versus, oh, I don't know, robbing and murdering for a living? You said you never wanted to be like your father, but I guess money talks."
"Like I had a choice.” Luca's jaw ticks. “You never showed, and when he found out, he made damn sure I knew exactly what would happen if I ever tried to leave again."
He tosses out the accusation so casually that it takes a minute for my stuttering brain to realize he's blaming me.
"I did show. But you already left."
He gives me a withering look before returning to his meal. "Don't try to bullshit me, Sienna."
"You weren't there. I was." I shove back from the table and stand, indignation setting my blood on fire. "I hammered on the door. I went window to window. The place was dark."
Scenes from that night flash into my mind once more, me screeching to a halt outside the lake house, rushing head down through the pouring rain to the porch, pounding on the door, all curtains drawn and lights off.
"Don’t lie to me,” he roars, banging a fist down so hard on the table, the cutlery jumps. “I know I was there, because I was there for three fucking days."
The words hang in the air between us. I don't understand what he means, but I know he’s telling the truth.
"What?" It’s a whisper.