Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
KENNEDY
For most of our flight, I’m a total basket case.
And not because of my fear of flying—Enzo cured me of that—but because of the sick, gnawing feeling that no matter what I do, I’m about to lose him.
Every time I take a breath the video replays in my mind, squeezing my heart so hard, there are no tears left.
Da is gone, ripped from my life all over again by that damned video.
And Riley is who knows where. Knox assures me she’s safe, so I slide my baby sister to the back burner and deal with the issue at hand.
Enzo.
My wounded beast of a husband. And the love of my life.
“We’ll be in Monaco soon,” Dante reassures me. I force a weak smile, my gaze flickering to Smoke, Dillon, and Mateo.
“Are we sure he’s there?” I ask, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice .
Smoke nods. “He’s there, all right. Checked in yesterday and took an entire floor—three penthouse suites.”
“Why?”
Smoke scoffs, amused. “Oh, in case you didn’t know, Enzo hates people.”
Mateo glances at his phone, his expression grim. “Our guys have intel on him. He’s due in the high roller’s room at the casino soon, betting big and crazy. Probably trying to lure out Uncle Andre.”
“Thanks,” I say, smiling meekly. I understand the dangers of having all the D’Angelo brothers in one place. Enzo once mentioned that Smoke’s wedding was the first time they’d been together in years, all of them. And I know putting them at risk isn’t what Enzo would want.
But they nearly came to blows trying to decide which ones were going and who’d stay behind. So, instead of wasting time letting them kill each other, we figured it was better to preserve their strength and save all that D’Angelo brute force for Enzo.
And, from what I understand, we’re going to need it.
“I still don’t understand,” I say, drained and exhausted. “Enzo is going to gamble his life to get more of these”—I hold up the photos—“away from Uncle Andre?”
The weight of the photos feels like a ticking bomb. Each one shows me in twisted, pretty dresses, none of which I can recall.
“Not just of you,” Dante replies, his voice low and grave. “Our sister, too. Uncle Andre’s weaknesses are gambling and cocaine. Enzo’s weaknesses are the women in his life—you and Trinity. He’ll do anything to destroy every last photo, if we even know how many our uncle has. ”
“And he can’t get to Andre directly. The fucker’s too heavily guarded. The only way is for our uncle to come to him,” Dillon adds. “The problem is Enzo’s sort of an all-or-nothing guy.”
I study the images again until they blur into a confusing mess. Something’s off. I just can’t figure out what. Ugh . All I know is Enzo is about to put his life on the line for them, and I can’t let that happen.
Get killed, don’t get killed—hey, buddy, you’re married now. Wifey has a say.
The flight feels endless, seeming to stretch on for days. I’ve called the girls twice, but I have to call once more before gearing up for the battlefield.
Lili shows me her twirl, and Sofia presents a tray of Italian cookies she baked quote-unquote “all by herself.” “Will Enzo read to us tonight?” Lili asks, worried, and she and Sofie wait on bated breath.
I want to say yes, but what if he doesn’t? The double-edged sword of disappointment looms over my answer as Dory cuts in. “Who wants to go to the zoo?”
Both girls squeal and bounce around excitedly as I say thank you. They hang up in a rush of blowing kisses, and once again, and my shoulders relax. Crisis averted.
For now.
We land, and the drive to the casino isn’t long. The grand fa?ade of the hotel comes into view, adorned with intricate carvings and lush greenery framing the entrance.
Inside, crystal chandeliers dangle from soaring ceilings, and every detail, from the gilded moldings to the exquisite floral arrangements, screams opulence. In my jeans and T-shirt, I half-expect them to show me to the DoorDash pickup entrance.
The valet helps me out, and the men lead me to a private sitting area. “We’ll split up and track down Enzo,” Dante says.
Smoke nods. “I’ll see what information the concierge has,” he adds. “Be right back, Kennedy.”
I take a seat, feeling anxious and helpless. Then I see him. I’m staring so hard I nearly fall over.
Andre fucking D’Angelo.
The man whose fingerprints are all over my father’s death.
Two beautiful women are draped over him at a private table across the way. I should tell the guys, but my feet are already moving, driven by a force I can’t control.
Then, without warning, he’s on his feet, heading down a hall. I pick up speed, rounding the corner just in time to find myself outside in a garden, grabbed by two guards.
“Well, well, well,” Andre purrs. “If it isn’t the new Mrs. D’Angelo. Here to beg for mercy?” He chuckles.
His hand grips my chin, and the second it does, a voice booms from behind. “I suggest you remove your hand before it’s shot off.”
Gun drawn and eyes blazing, it’s Dante. Not the carefree Dante I’ve come to know. This man is a thousand times more lethal.
“You and what army?” Andre sneers.
Suddenly, Andre and his men are surrounded as Smoke, Mateo, and Dillon materialize from out of nowhere.
Andre pulls his weapon, too, and now everyone has a gun except me.
A calm-looking man in a fancy suit and thin mustache strolls over, and I’m debating whether to warn him to get away from this ticking time bomb of a standoff when he says, “Mr. D’Angelo?”
Everyone turns, confident as they all respond, “Yes?”
“Mr. Andre D’Angelo,” the man clarifies, his voice steady.
Andre steps back and nods. “What?”
“Good news, sir. The high roller table you requested just had an opening. You are free to join.” He holds up what looks like an engraved invitation. “Unless, of course, there’s an incident.” His gaze sweeps over the drawn guns, disapproval clear as if a headmaster is scolding unruly students. “Then we’ll have to ask you to leave the hotel.”
“What’s the buy-in?” Andre asks, his grip on the weapon unwavering.
“Normally, a hundred thousand, but the person who can’t make it forfeited his deposit,” the man replies smoothly.
The look on Andre’s face confirms what the guys suspected: gambling is one of his greatest weaknesses. He takes the invitation, and with a final glare, storms off.
The brothers lower their weapons, and shift their focus to me.
I brace for the inevitable lecture of what the hell were you thinking , but it never comes. All they ask is, “Are you okay?”
My heart swells. It’s been so long since I’ve royally fucked up, only to have all be forgiven. Like a band of big, burly brothers stepping in for Da .
I nod, still a bit shaky. “Come on,” Dante says. “We’ll take you to the room. ”
After a shower and some food, I collapse onto the bed, staring at my phone. Enzo still hasn’t called or texted, but each of my new brothers has. Dante’s last message reads:
Dante
Still no sign of Enzo.
High-roller game our uncle is invited to starts in an hour. We’ll be heading down then to see if Enzo’s there.
Exhausted, I flip through the photos once more and do a double-take.
This is me.
And it’s not.
All of a sudden, everything clicks. The puzzle piece I couldn’t see, staring me in the face.
I clutch the photos and look at them again, one by one. Carefully scrutinizing them, making sure I’m not wrong. Then I grab my suitcase and my best battle dress.
Me
Count me in.