Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
The motel door clicked shut. Sofia’s presence lingered like a scent. Tonio shrugged off his jacket and pulled the encrypted phone from his pocket. Its cold weight jolted him back to reality.
Luc’s face filled the screen, backlit by monitors. “What’s the situation?”
“It’s moving. She’s opening up,” Tonio said, his tone flat and professional. “I will soon learn what her bottom line is, and then I’ll break her enough to ensure she stops what the hell she is doing.” The words felt like ash in his mouth.
Luc was silent for a moment. “The timeline’s compressing. The client’s getting impatient. He’s making noises about sending his own team to…handle it. From what I gather, if he does, she’ll end up dead.”
A cold knot tightened in Tonio’s gut. “Tell him to stand down. That would be a mistake.”
Another pause. “Is everything okay, Tonio?”
“Why do you ask?”
“You sounded…like you’d be furious if the senator made a move on her. But if he chooses to, that’s his business.”
A dark, dangerous heat slid through Tonio, sharp enough to surprise even him. “Tell the senator to be patient. I will have results soon.”
“I’ll relay the message. But you need to deliver. Soon.”
“I’m aware.” Tonio ended the call.
The silence that followed hung heavier than before. “Fucking hell,” he snapped into the quiet of the motel room. She was going to be killed if he didn’t move soon. Yet something in him—strange, unwelcome, and unfamiliar—hesitated at the thought of threatening her or putting fear in her eyes.
Her sharp curiosity, the way her gaze lingered on him in the diner, haunted his thoughts, cutting through every warning he’d given himself.
Interestingly, whenever he was with Sofia, the usual ghosts stayed at bay, and the guilt that normally gnawed at him was muted, drowned beneath the persistent pull of her presence and this damn need to know and understand her.
Last night, his dreams had been filled with her.
Not peace—he didn’t deserve that—but a stolen reprieve. And the danger was undeniable.
This was a problem. The old warning flashed, a dull blade against a new truth. The distraction was too much if he was feeling ruthlessly protective.
What the hell am I doing? I need to pull my shit together.
He dragged a hand over his face, fury and something darker twisting low in his gut. Getting tangled up in a woman’s eyes, her pain, her fucking sweetness—that was how men ended up dead. He knew better.
Still, he pulled his encrypted laptop from his bag and opened it, fingers already flying as he dug for any link between the senator and this quiet little town. He would finish the job in a few days and return to New York.
Simple. Clean. Bloody, if necessary. And he would cut out whatever softness had started to rot inside him before it cost them both.
Tonio sat at the far end of the bar, nursing a cold beer.
His mind replayed the last few days, every loop ending with her—the tilt of her head, the spark in her eyes, the subtle twitch of curiosity that he could feel in the space between them.
He’d been avoiding Sofia for a couple of days.
He should’ve walked away after that first coffee.
But the way she looked at him—like she was peeling back the layers of a con—kept him hesitating.
He shouldn’t have damn well kissed her. Luc and every man Tonio had worked with over the years would laugh their asses off if they knew he’d gotten tangled up over a woman after only a few meetings.
What the hell was wrong with him? What about her was so fucking appealing that she could slip under his skin this fast, this deep?
He didn’t have an answer, and that unsettled him more than anything else.
A shadow fell over the bar. Lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed a man in a tailored suit slide onto the stool next to him. Rookie mistake.
“You look like a man with something on his mind.”
Tonio took a slow sip. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
The man chuckled, low and unpleasantly. Polished suit, calm posture, but his eyes were flat, operational. A fixer.
“Word is, you were getting cozy with a certain girl. Is there a reason for that?”
Tonio froze a fraction—he’d been watched. He met the man’s gaze, flat. “Didn’t realize I had to report my coffee habits.”
The man’s smirk turned venomous. “Your bosses don’t like loose ends.”
Tonio leaned forward, his voice low. “I don’t work for your people. I work for my family. I’m here to clean up a problem. Don’t fuck with me.”
The polished smile tightened. “My boss is a man who deals in futures—his own, and the ruin of others. He can’t afford a scandal, and you can’t afford his attention.”
The word attention hung—a thinly veiled threat to Tonio's family.
Tonio looked him over with cold finality. “The ‘loose end’ is mine to manage. Interfere again, and you’ll become the next problem I have to clean up. The conversation’s over. Get the fuck out of my sight.”
The man’s smirk vanished, his eyes flat and assessing. He gave a single, curt nod. “Understood.” He slid off the stool, the echo of his polished shoes against the floor a quiet warning. “For now.” Then he disappeared into the crowd, swallowed by the dim bar lights.
Tonio watched him go, calculation in his eyes turning to ice. The senator hadn’t just sent a message; he’d sent a hound. His warning to Luc to pull them back had been ignored—a professional courtesy now treated as weakness and an insult. They were circling Sofia, loading the gun themselves.
The path forward was horrifically simple.
Tonio wouldn’t waste any more time trying to find her Achilles’ heel—the leverage he was supposed to use to intimidate her into compliance.
Tonio didn’t want that spark in her eyes snuffed out by a bullet from the senator’s men.
The bastard was scared. Whatever she was investigating tied back to him, and Sofia had to be circling dangerously close to the secrets he was desperate to keep buried.
To protect her, Tonio would have to become the threat. Stage a break-in or a robbery. Or be direct and deliver a warning she’d never forget. He would become the architect of her terror—poison the only real connection he’d felt in years. The irony was sharp, personal, and necessary.
As dusk bled into night, the church grounds dissolved into shadowed shapes. The building loomed against the indigo sky, its Gothic angles slicing the air. A wind stirred the overgrown yews, lifting dead leaves that skittered across the gravel.
Tonio’s heart jolted when he saw her. A single golden square—the rectory window—spilled light onto the path.
Sofia walked toward it, eyes fixed and determined, moving like she owned the night.
Irritation pricked him. Reckless or naive—either way, wrong.
Digging where others had buried secrets was one thing; doing it after dark was another.
She had no idea how close danger waited.
Tonio lowered his hood, letting the shadows blur his face.
No chances. A thick scarf tucked into his jacket hid his mouth, gloves covered scarred knuckles, and loose jeans and scuffed boots rendered him anonymous.
He tightened his shoulders, adjusted his gait, found the softest patches of gravel—and closed in, silent.
She moved like someone without any fear of the world and the dangerous predators that lived within it, confident, sure. The problem was that she didn’t know the ground beneath her feet. Tonight, he needed her terrified enough to run.
Her step faltered before she saw him. The air changed; she froze, like a rabbit sensing a hawk, her breath snagging. Her fingers didn’t just twitch in her pockets; they closed into white-knuckled fists.
He let the pause stretch, pulling at her nerves until they thinned.
When he stepped into her path, she flinched, a sharp, involuntary gasp escaping.
“Walk away,” he said, low and flat.
For a heartbeat, pure animal fear filled her eyes. Then she seemed to compose herself—chin rising, defiance snapping into place like a brittle shield.
The fuck?
He dropped his voice to a coarser timber. “You’re asking the wrong questions in the wrong place. Dangerous questions.”
Her grip tightened on the bag. “Who sent you?” she demanded, steady even as the tension radiated off her.
He almost smirked at her nerve. In one controlled move, he closed the distance; his gloved hand clamped her wrist like a vise.
She gasped as he hauled her close, spinning her until his face was inches from the back of her head.
The damp, heavy air of the church grounds swallowed the fleeting hint of her perfume.
“Your mother’s gone,” he hissed close to her ear. “You’ll be next if you don’t stop asking fucking questions and leave.”
He twisted her arm. A cry of pain was torn from her as he shoved her forward. She hit the ground, her cheek grinding into the leafy gravel. Before she could scramble up, his knee drove into the small of her back, pinning her. She bucked; he pressed harder, her wrist locked in his grip.
“Stay down,” he growled.
Her breath came in ragged, sharp pulls. He was bigger, heavier, relentless. One hand went to his jacket; the fabric whispered as it moved. When the gun caught the light, it was sudden—black and unyielding.
He pressed the muzzle to the back of her skull, the metal cold and absolute. She shuddered violently. For a fraction of a second, a sick twist of self-loathing struck him—then he shoved it down. Softness wouldn’t help in this situation. He couldn’t afford it.
A sob ripped out of her. She shut her eyes, her body going still in wait for the shot. He let the quiet stretch.
“This is your only warning,” he said, his voice low and lethal. “Stop asking questions. Go home. The past is the fucking past. Next time it won’t be a warning. Next time, you will be dead.”
He withdrew the gun. His hand closed in her hair, and he slammed her face into the dirt and gravel once more.
She curled into herself, coughing, the earth staining her skin.
He was already moving, fading toward the tree line before she could get her bearings.
He melted into the dark; a branch cracked once, then silence.
From the trees, he watched her scramble up, small and frantic, looking about. He stayed until the fear he needed had settled in her eyes—until he was sure she would run—and then he melted back into the dark and left her there.
Tonio shut the motel door and bolted it, more from instinct than for safety.
He tossed his jacket over the chair, pulled off his gloves, and ran a hand down his face.
He should’ve been relieved. He’d done what he set out to do—scare Sofia off.
She had to have gotten the message. She had to.
Cursing under his breath, he grabbed his phone and dialed. It rang twice before a voice picked up.
“Tell me it’s done,” Luc said, skipping any greeting.
Tonio sank onto the edge of the bed. “Depends on your definition.”
A pause. Then a sigh. “Tonio.”
“She’s scared,” he said, his voice flat, as if reporting someone else’s mistake. “I put her on the ground, put a gun to her head, told her to drop it.”
Another pause. “And?”
Tonio clenched his jaw. “She’s stubborn, but not stupid. She’ll back off.”
Luc was silent for a moment. “You think she’ll back off?”
“Yes,” Tonio said, dragging a hand over his jaw.
“A warning is one thing. If she doesn’t listen, the next step won’t be ours to control.”
The warning hung. A clean, professional end was the logical solution.
It was what the situation might demand. But the second he touched her, his code—no women, no children—screamed.
He’d had to play the monster, perform brutality against everything he stood for, and the act left him feeling stained. Going further was unthinkable.
“She’s in over her head, Luc. She doesn’t know what she’s walking into.”
“That’s not your problem.”
He knew that. But it didn’t change how it felt.
Luc sighed. “Look, if she doesn’t back off, you know what will happen.”
Tonio’s grip tightened. “I said I’ll take care of it.”
Even if he had to break a few bones to make sure she stayed breathing, he would. Brutal, painful—whatever it took. She would learn, and she would live.
Another pause. “You sure about that?”
No. Not even close. But he couldn’t say it—not to Luc, not to himself.
Luc let it go. “Keep me posted.”
The line went dead. Tonio tossed the phone onto the nightstand, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He’d been in this life too long to hesitate, too long to second-guess. But Sofia had cut through that like it was nothing. She’d gotten under his skin.
He was drifting, half-asleep, when his phone buzzed. Instinct kicked in before logic—he already knew who it was.
“Yeah?”
A pause. Then the person hung up.
Tonio’s heart slammed hard in his chest. Sleep vanished. He pushed upright, rubbing his face. Before he could decide what to do, his phone rang again. He answered instantly. “Yes.”
Silence… but not empty. He heard the faintest shuddering breath. He closed his eyes, a curse slipping through his mind. Sofia. His scare tactic had worked, and now she needed someone, but her mistrust pushed her to the edge of running.
He could almost feel the war she was waging inside herself.
Click. She hung up.
Tonio tightened his grip on the phone. The number was blocked, but he could trace it easily if he wanted to. He scrubbed a hand over his face. Should he try?
His phone rang again. This time, he didn’t let even a heartbeat pass before answering.
“Do not hang up,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You can talk to me.”
A tight swallow sounded down the line. “Hey, it’s me. Sofia.”
“Didn’t expect to hear from you.”
She let out a small, tired laugh. “Yeah… me neither.”
Something in her voice snagged him. Not fear. Not anger. Something quieter. Worn down.
“You all right?” he asked, already knowing. Part of him hated that he might be the reason she wasn’t.
“Not really,” she admitted. No hesitation. “I just… remembered you offering a drink, and figured… if that’s still on the table—”
“It is,” he said, without a second thought.
Silence. Then a quiet breath, like she’d braced for refusal.
“Okay,” she said. “Good. I could use a drink. Maybe dinner after.”
“Where are you?”
“The diner. I know it’s late…”
“I’ll be there soon.”
“All right.” A beat. Softer this time: “Thanks, Tonio.”
He didn’t know what she was thanking him for, but it sounded like more than a meal.
“See you soon,” he said, ending the call.
For a moment, he just stared at the phone. Then he grabbed his keys—because waiting meant thinking, and he didn’t have time for that.