Chapter 24
Emmeline
The powerful Italian’s last words had been to stay in the room. He hadn’t been kind about it either.
At first, I’d awakened early in the morning, reaching across the sheets in hopes of curling up next to him. That side of the bed had been empty.
With the only light a stream of moonlight coming in through the open doors, I’d caught sight of him keeping watch over me in the single chair. I’d noticed the weapon on the table. He must have heard me rustling under the sheets but had said nothing.
I’d also noticed that when we’d made love in the bathtub, his mind had taken him elsewhere. I’d caught a portion of the look on his face. He’d been lost in a horrific memory and given what we were dealing with, I’d say it was all about the murders of his parents.
That’s why when he’d left, I’d taken the time to try to find out anything I could about family. I’d found nothing. Not one thing. I’d need to ask Donatello, although I doubted he wanted to tell me anything at this point. He’d moved on. That was the kind of man he was.
His worry about keeping me safe was admirable but becoming somewhat out of hand.
Now he was outside, animated in his conversations. The cramped space was beginning to feel just that, very cramped.
At least he’d brought back coffee and pastries with him.
Donatello had been on the phone since returning. I’d overheard a few of the calls, including those made to one of the hackers on the payroll. Between the man and his father, they had more talent than an entire building full of computer experts.
He was searching for information about the Brotherhood, including how far reaching their organizations were within Italy.
As he’d already told me, Alexander would have no issue using his alliance with the Cosa Nostra if it meant drawing out the major players of the fraternity-like organization.
While Donatello had been pacing either the room or the small patio, I’d been making a few notes of my own, most with questions attached.
Had Peter Kendall been of any importance or simply a name found on the internet?
Were there any connections either in rumors or directly between the Cosa Nostra and the Brotherhood?
Who were the Los Bartas Cartel in connection to the Texas Bikers, the Los Riveras who’d been hired and many lured to their deaths by the Brotherhood?
For kicks and giggles, I’d even written down the last few people I’d come in contact with during the past two weeks or so, including the speed date I’d almost gone on.
Sadly, I’d found only superficial information on Mr. Carmichael, but what I had discovered checked out with what little he’d told me.
I kept going back to the same people who’d harassed Josette. Harassed was a mild word for how they’d tried to ruin her life, including forcing her to marry a horrible man. There had to be a direct connection to the magazine in Savannah and her family.
At this point, there were no real answers, although I kept coming back to the Brotherhood.
Their power and wealth had taken a hit when Alexander had drawn them out.
Then they’d disappeared. Well, mostly. Their connections were still there, shown proudly in their affiliation with a few select alma mater and through the corporate partnerships hundreds of them maintained.
They were like a huge fraternity, which had initially amused the hell out of me. Until I’d delved in deeper, discovering their breadth of power.
While dangerous, what they’d done in tormenting Josette from an early age then following her path when she’d escaped her stepbrother’s tyranny had driven their methods into another category.
I knew Alexander was well aware that of all the enemies we’d encountered over the years from two different Bratva to the Irish, the Italians to cartels, the Brotherhood were the people he should be most concerned about.
They had wide-reaching tentacles and even without having access to their bank accounts, more money than God it would seem.
When I noticed Donatello was finally off the phone, even smiling as if completing a successful mission, I shifted through my notes, realizing I’d written down several pages of them.
Maybe they’d help in trying to determine who’d wanted Donatello dead, who’d wanted my pictures taken, and why someone had threatened the business in Miami.
Maybe the person responsible wanted us split apart as a family, including many of our resources.
In order for us to head back to the States without difficulty given our passport situation, Alexander had to bring the second family jet, either requiring Sinclair and Montgomery to fly home on a commercial plane or to stay in Miami for the time being.
Donatello approached the bed, snagging the page of notes from my hand. “Whatcha been working on?”
“Stuff. Hey, has anyone talked to Josette about the Brotherhood lately?”
Only after he flipped through the pages did he lift his head. “I don’t have that answer. Not a bad idea, except I know the subject is a sore one.”
“What about her mother?”
His brows knitted together. Josie’s mother had remarried a man high up in the Brotherhood.
While Josie had ended up hating her mom for the treatment received, they’d reconciled well over a year before.
As far as how much contact they still had, that I wouldn’t know.
However, her mother might know a few secrets and wouldn’t mind getting back at the fuckers after the divorce.
“Good thought. Very good thought. I might need to keep you around,” he told me. “Speaking of which. Get your purse. We’re going for a little drive.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see. We might as well enjoy the day as much as we can. Once we return to New Orleans, it’ll be all business as usual.”
We stared at each other for a few seconds. I knew what he was referring to. Our little game would end. For how long remained to be seen. “Are you sure we shouldn’t keep working?”
“What’s that old adage? All work and no play?”
“Alright. Let me change quickly and we can go.”
I wasn’t used to the spontaneous side of the man. I had to admit I enjoyed the change, although if push came to shove, I’d say I preferred the dark and dangerous side to him even more.
Ten minutes later we were off.
He was in a remarkably good mood, more so than I thought he’d be after his phone calls.
“What did you learn on your marathon phone session?”
“Mmm… Well, that the gentleman from Southern Comfort had a shady background. That there was no interference in Miami, so Sinclair and Montgomery made it back to New Orleans in time for the jet to be gassed up. It would appear someone was attempting to draw our attention away, creating a new enemy in Miami when we didn’t have one there. ”
“Classic. Split our attention in different directions. What else?” I cooed.
“That our hackers have noticed some interesting activities within our accounts. That the three men killed had no affiliation to the cartel.”
“Wow.”
He chuckled and rolled his hand around the steering wheel.
“All of which leads us to being completely clueless as to what’s happening, but not about the players involved.
At least Alexander is fairly certain the Brotherhood is indeed behind the subterfuge.
We’ll find out with no doubts. We always do.
No more business for right now. I thought we agreed. ”
“We didn’t agree to anything. You said we were taking the afternoon off.”
“Well, as I already told you, what I say goes.” His laugh was even more gregarious than normal, which allowed some of the tension to ease.
As he drove through the small beach town, I snuggled into the seat, allowing the breeze from the open window to further calm my nerves.
“What if someone is watching us? Or watching me?” I stared out the passenger window as the palm trees and colorful buildings rolled by.
“Have you seen anyone?”
“No, but the best stalkers and assassins are never seen.”
“Then I’ll handle them.”
I turned my head, studying his expression. He was serious. “How many people would you kill for me?”
“All of them.”
“Wow. Everyone on earth.”
“Well, with a few exceptions like your family.” With his dark sunglasses on, he appeared very much the gangster, only out of an episode of some Miami crime syndicate drama. He’d even foregone wearing a tie, which meant the world was coming to an end.
He was teasing, but the sight of his weapon in between the seats did nothing to bolster my self-confidence in the situation. When he turned down a road toward the beach, I sat up. “We’re going to another beach? What was wrong with the one by the hotel?”
“Nothing. This one is just special for a different reason.” He glanced over at me and this was one of those times I wanted to see his pupils.
“What are you up to?”
“The guy behind the reception desk mentioned this place and I thought what the heck? Nothing weird.”
“Uh-huh. Where did you go this morning?”
Donatello acted as if he wasn’t going to tell me until I punched him in the gut. “You are a vicious woman. I didn’t know that about you.”
“Like hell you didn’t. Now speak or I’ll beat it out of you.”
“I just wanted to check a few things out. Maybe I was concerned we were being followed.”
“Please do not tell me you hunted someone down only to discover they were innocent, but since you exposed who you were, you had to go ahead and kill them, then hide the bodies.”
“Did I look covered in blood when I returned?” he demanded, even looking down at the clothes he was wearing.
“No, but that’s something you do.”
“I do not do that.”
With another hard look, I shook my head. “What about the guy who stole from the warehouse?”
“Which time?”
“Oh, my God. The time the champagne was stolen for the huge wedding reception at Indulgence?”
“Oh, that.” He waved his hand. “So the guy wasn’t guilty of theft, but he was of breaking and entering.”
“Because he was told that was the door to use when coming to work for me. You didn’t need to break his arm.”
“Yeah, I did. He pissed me off. I didn’t kill him.” He made a sharp turn and I grumbled under my breath.
“You are terrible.”
“That’s not what you said last night.”
We were staring at each other for a full two minutes until I realized he’d managed to park. Somehow without killing us.
That’s also when I’d realized he’d pulled in front of a little church.
“What is this place?” With my question being whispered, no longer holding the same sarcastic amusement from before, I was certain the words floated toward never-never-land because that’s the only place and time where a moment like this could exist.
Not because it wasn’t something that I hadn’t thought about or even admitted albeit silently that I wanted, but because at the end of the day, the same barbarian rules would apply.
I was forbidden to anyone considered an employee and at minimum half the male population of the human race.
With the engine off, the only sound available was that of the ocean waves hitting the shoreline maybe a hundred feet away.
And of course the rapid thumping of my heart.
“This would be a church,” he said, not only with certainty, but also with a degree of arrogance.
I tipped my head toward him. “I can see that. Why are we here?” I had a minimum of a dozen questions, all of which died on my tongue. Few things stunned me in my life. This was by far the weirdest and most demanding idea I’d taken part in.
“To fulfill a promise. I am a man of my word. Come on.”
He wasn’t taking no for an answer, including when he opened my door for me, guiding me with a hard tug onto the gravel. As always, he scanned the area, checking to ensure we were alone. There were no vehicles and no indication the church was even open to visitors.
“There’s no one here. We can’t break in.”
“Trust me. There’s someone here.”
“Why does that sound scary?”
God, I did so love hearing his laugh.
When his phone rang, he grunted out of annoyance but tugged the phone from his pocket. After two seconds of debate, he turned the ringer off, shoving the instrument back into his pocket.
“Anything important?” I asked, more amused than anything.
“Nothing that needs my time right now. Only you do.” He grabbed his jacket from behind my seat, sliding into it. That’s when I noticed his weapon.
“I feel special and you’re not taking a loaded gun inside the church.”
“You should feel very special and yes, I am. But thank you for reminding me to grab a second magazine of ammunition. Did you bring your thigh holster as I asked?”
“Yeah, it was under your jacket. You are not going to make me wear it.” Why did I bother saying that? Of course he was.
With a grin on his face, he reached back into the car, pulling the holster into his hot hands. “Where’s your weapon?” When I didn’t answer right away, he cocked his head, giving me that look.
“Fine.” I grumbled and yanked the small pistol from my purse. “And why should I feel oh-so special?”
Donatello’s dimples were showing. He’d shaved, turning the scruff haphazardly covering his stern jaw into a masterpiece. Leaning over me, I was reminded how much taller he was.
He checked the Beretta I was carrying, including the full magazine of ammo. Once satisfied, he slowly dropped to his knees, placing the weapon and holster on the ground beside him. When he slid his hands under the hem of my dress, I started to push him away, giggling from the ticklish sensations.
There went another one of his looks, only this time a bit more sensual. So I responded by bending my knee and placing the toe of my sandal on the gravel to make it easier for him.
As soon as he wrapped the leather around my thigh, I shuddered.
His hands were creations of God above, heating my skin to a thousand degrees.
“An excellent question,” he responded. “Because there’s never been another woman for whom I’m willing to risk everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve to achieve her happiness and make good on a promise. ”