Chapter 41
Ace
I jerk awake as the same recurring nightmare I’ve had for the past year runs through my mind.
A woman walks into my hospital room. She looks familiar, but her hair is brown, and she has thick-rimmed black glasses on.
I’m so out of it I can’t move or speak, but I see her.
I hear her. She tells me I’m going to go to sleep for good, and it frightens me.
Her voice is evil. I’ve heard it before.
The woman pulls out a syringe and uncaps it before she slides the long needle into the secondary IV.
Her ring flashes off one of the lights in the room as she does.
But then I hear Luciano’s voice from a distance.
The woman immediately pulls the syringe out and shoves it into her bag before she scurries from the room.
Luciano yells, but I can’t make sense of it as I drift into darkness.
The thing I’ve tried to convince myself wasn’t possible is becoming reality.
It was her. That woman was my mother. I can’t confirm it.
My mind was so fuzzy in that hospital room, and I could barely stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time for weeks.
My own mother killed my father and then paid to have me killed, but when it didn’t work, she tried to take care of it herself.
If it hadn’t been for Luciano showing up at exactly the right time, I might not be alive right now.
How am I supposed to obey Kian and close my eyes and turn off my brain, knowing the woman who emotionally tortured me for years also killed the only parent who loved me?
And then tried to kill me. That fucking cunt of a woman was supposed to be one of the people I should trust the most, and she actually tried to kill me.
Why?
What did he ever do to her? Because the way I remember it, my father tried to do everything to make my mother happy.
And she treated him like shit. She was never happy.
Nothing was ever good enough, and I was always such a problem for her.
My father came to my rescue so many times when she would shout at me for doing something wrong.
If I used the wrong fork while we were dining at a fancy restaurant, she would lecture me the entire car ride home until my dad told her enough.
So then she turned her venom toward him.
She screamed at him all night while I lay in bed and cried.
The next morning, my father acted like nothing had happened as we ate blueberry pancakes before I went to school. He might have been one of the most dangerous men in the Italian mafia at that time, but to me, he was the man who loved me endlessly. And she took him away from me.
With the covers thrown back, I sit up and blink several times, my shoulders still tight.
I would do anything to feel Kian’s warm hands on me right now.
Touching me in the perfect way, only he knows how.
It’s like he understands what I’m thinking without me even having to speak.
And he doesn’t try to stop me from being the wild, eccentric woman I am, all while he watches me in the way that he does. Silent, intense, smoldering.
The man dug up a grave for me. He’s out digging up my father’s grave right now.
He’s doing it because it’s important to me.
Because I need to know what happened. We may have only known each other for a short time, but Kian understands me, and I understand him.
He enjoys taking care of the people around him.
The ones he cares about. The ones he loves.
And maybe it’s too soon for us to feel that way for each other, but I don’t care about what’s socially acceptable anymore.
I had to live my life like a robot for so many years; from now on, I’m doing it my way.
And that means I am going to get the answers I deserve.
Going into the bathroom, I look in the mirror and wince.
I look like shit, and I feel like I was hit by a bus, but the throbbing in my face has gone.
As I turn on the water and go about brushing my teeth, I think about my life and all the shit my mom put me through.
The schedules, the weight loss pills she had me taking when I was ten, the expectations of perfection.
I never had a sleepover with friends, or went to the mall, or had any free time.
It was like I was a pet that she handled.
By the time I’m done, my heart is pounding against my ribs. I fix my hair, putting it into a messy bun on top of my head because I just don’t fucking care what I look like at this point. It doesn’t matter.
As I stomp from the bathroom to the closet, I grit my teeth, my mind still racing. I fucking hate that bitch so much. How could she do this to me? To our family? To the Italian mafia? My father was loved and respected by their men. He was fair and loyal. And he deserved better.
I change into clean black yoga pants and pull on a bright pink hoodie, then slide my feet into a pair of hot-pink checkered Vans. On the way out of my bedroom, I grab my phone and purse.
When I find the name I need in my phone, I send a text and then get in my car and drive toward the airport.
I have two bodyguards following me, and neither one of them has approached since I boarded the plane.
They’re both on here, too, though, which means one of two things.
One, Kian and Luciano have told them to hold back, and they’ll be at the airport waiting for me when I land.
Or two, they haven’t been able to get hold of either of them yet, so they’re keeping the required distance unless otherwise told.
It’s pretty hard for these men to blend in, especially when boarding a damn plane.
Not only are they bigger than everyone else, but they look like they eat three-pound steaks for breakfast. I smile when they have to walk past me down the narrow aisle and try to fold themselves into seats at the back of the plane.
I snagged one of the last tickets near the front. They didn’t get so lucky.
The flight is quick, and as soon as I exit the terminal and head out toward the exits, I break out into a smile as familiar faces come into view.
Standing tall and broad, Knox McCray and his stunning wife, Addie, wait for me.
As soon as Addie sees me, she breaks into a smile and comes running to hug me, while Knox makes his way toward us, his gaze flitting around the airport.
“Lacey, oh my God, it’s so good to see you,” Addie says as she squeezes me tightly. “Are you okay?”
I nod and look up at Knox, who doesn’t seem quite as excited to see me.
“You know you have two bodyguards on you, right?” he asks quietly without greeting me first.
Addie elbows him, but he doesn’t apologize; instead, he keeps watching beyond us, like some sort of guard. Gosh, what is it with these overprotective men?
“Yes, I know. And they would have had to disarm themselves before they got on the plane. I’m sure they won’t have anyone meeting them here to help them out, so I’m not worried about it,” I answer evenly.
It’s not an airtight plan, but it’s the only one I have. As long as I can get there before Kian and Luciano, that’s all I care about.
“Lacey, I don’t like this,” Knox says as he scans the airport again.
Smirking, I give him a thumbs-up. “Noted and disregarded. Can we go now?”
He sighs and takes Addie by the hand, then nods in the direction of the parking garage. When we walk up to two matching black SUVs, Knox stops and turns toward me, a key fob in his hand. “Your pistol is in the console, and there’s an extra magazine there too.”
Addie eyes me, licking her plush lips. I met Addie when I lived in Seattle.
She owns a boutique that carries some of the most beautiful clothes I’ve ever seen.
We got to talking one day while I was shopping.
She told me her husband and brother-in-law own a gun store and shooting range in Seattle.
She invited me to come to the range for a weekly ladies’ night, where Knox and a few of his brothers teach women how to handle weapons and do target practice.
It ended up becoming a regular thing for me, and Addie and her sisters-in-law, who also often came to the weekly sessions, were all so sweet to me.
“Are you sure you need this, Lacey?” Addie asks. “I mean, I support you if you do, but you can’t take it back once it’s done.”
Reaching out, I hug Addie, which is all the response she needs as she squeezes me back.
“You guys can go. I’ll call my watchdogs out once you leave,” I tell them, looking up at Knox, hoping he doesn’t argue.
It was a long shot, asking him to do this for me, but from when Addie introduced me to her overprotective husband, who reminds me of a couple of other men I know, I knew he was a safe person to go to.
Knox steps toward me, so I have to tip my head way back to meet his cool gaze.
“There is a tracker in the car, and another one that looks like a key fob sitting next to the gun. It has a panic button on it. My brothers, Wolf and Angel, are going to tail you, but they won’t intervene unless you hit the button. ”
Narrowing my eyes, I square my shoulders. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
He hits me with a smug smile and shrugs. “It is now. If I had half a fucking brain, I’d be on the phone with your cousin right now, telling him where you are. My brothers will stay back, but if you need anything, Lacey, press the fucking button. Understand?”
In a way, it means a lot that Knox is trying to protect me. Other than Luciano, I never really had anyone in my corner, but maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough.
“Thank you,” I say begrudgingly. “And thanks for meeting me so early.”
Knox nods and nudges Addie toward his SUV. “Be careful.”
As soon as he pulls out of his spot and drives toward the parking garage exit, I stand next to the vehicle Knox provided me and scan the rows of cars.
“Hulk One and Two, I know you’re lurking closely, so you might as well show yourselves,” I call out, thankful there’s no one else around me to hear me say that.
A second later, one of Luciano’s men steps out of the shadows.
He’s so huge, he barely fits between the cars, and the cut of his suit jacket is so tight it looks like he might burst out of it if he flexes.
“Miss Ricci,” he greets me, real formal, but his lips twitch, as if he knows he’s been caught out.
The other one, I see now, is across the lane, arms crossed, scanning the lot with bored and predatory eyes.
“Names?” I ask, putting my hands on my hips.
“Franco,” the first one says.
“Roman,” the second one has his phone in his hand, no doubt calling Kian or Luciano.
“Throw your phones toward me. Smash them,” I demand.
Neither of them moves, so I hit the unlock button on the key fob and yank open the driver’s side door. When I lean in and lift the console lid, the black pistol, which is exactly the same as the one I have hidden at home, gleams under the dim lighting.
Even though Knox and his brothers taught me how to shoot with several different calibers, my nine-millimeter Smith & Wesson is my favorite.
With my fingers wrapped around the cold metal, I pull it out and straighten, then walk to the end of the SUV, where both men are standing a few feet away.
I feel terrible, but I raise my gun, pointing it at Roman. “Smash it. Now.”
Roman narrows his eyes, but he finally tosses his phone onto the ground at my feet, the screen shattering.
Then I turn to Franco. “Now you.”
Franco eyes Roman, then sighs, and throws his onto the ground, sending it flying into a million pieces.
“I’m leaving this garage, and the two of you aren’t going to follow or try to stop me. Are we clear?” I ask.
“Mr. Savage isn’t going to approve of this, Miss Ricci,” Roman says as he takes a step toward me. I swing the end of the pistol toward him, and he stops in his tracks, holding his hands up.
“I’ll deal with Kian and Luciano later,” I answer.
“We’re only here to protect you, Miss Ricci,” Franco says. “If you need our assistance with whatever you’re doing, we will help you.”
Shaking my head, I take a step back. I’ve come this far on my own, and I’m not stopping or letting anyone take this away from me.
“If you want to help, tell my cousin to send a clean-up crew to my mother’s house.” Then I get into the SUV and lock the doors before I start the engine and pull out of the parking spot, neither of the men getting in my way as I drive away.
Luciano is going to be so pissed. And I’m not sure how Kian will feel, but I hope he’ll understand.
Of all people, he should. His father was murdered, too, only not by his mother.
And despite what the news reports say about what happened to Jack Savage’s killer, I have no doubt that man died at the hands of Kian and his brothers.
I drive out of the city, following the narrow, winding road into the hills, where the mega-mansions are tucked behind hedges and gates that cost as much as most ordinary people’s homes.
My mother’s estate is perched high, a marble monstrosity that I’m pretty sure she insisted on my father buying.
Thankful that she isn’t smart enough to change the entry code, I watch the iron gates slowly open before I drive through.
I pass the stone fountain and park at the edge of the circular drive.
The same code that got me into the gate gets me into the garage attached to the house, and I slip in through the entry door.
As I walk, I don’t make a sound. Years of ballet taught me how to stay quiet on my feet.
At the landing, I pause, my ears straining.
Nothing. Not a sound. My mother’s housekeeper will be here at eight o’clock sharp to prepare her breakfast, so I still have a couple of hours.
I take the stairs two at a time, the pistol heavy in my hand. My palms are clammy, and my heart is beating so hard, I’m surprised it isn’t echoing off the walls. I pause at her bedroom door, listening.
Quiet as a mouse, I grab the handle and slowly push the heavy door open. It’s dark in here, only the beginnings of morning light starting to creep under the heavy silk curtains. Just enough that I can see where I’m going as I make my way over to one of the hideous gold velvet chairs near her bed.
Sitting down, I watch her, unmoving as she sleeps peacefully, as if she didn’t actually kill her husband and attempt to kill her daughter.
Finally, I clear my throat. “Hello, Mother.”
As soon as I speak, she startles and bolts upright, looking around the room as her arms flail around.
When her blinking gaze lands on me, she puts a hand to her chest, panting, and something on one of her fingers sparkles. A pear-shaped ring. Just like the one in my nightmare. The one I thought was a hallucination.
My blood runs cold. She didn’t just pay someone to kill me. She tried to finish the job herself.