Chapter Ten
Most Mondays aren’t much to look forward to, but as I stand in the hall crowded with parents waiting for their kids, I wish Allan would hurry the hell up so I can drop him off and hustle over to the bakery for my first day of work.
I can’t help smiling, wondering what it will be like. Aside from babysitting—which I’ve seldom been paid for—this will be my first job ever. And I’ll get a chance to develop at least a working relationship with one of Vince’s family members.
As I rock forward on my toes, I somehow bump into the man next to me.
“Oh, sorry,” he says.
I flash a wordless smile, unconcerned. I glance down the hall again. I know class hasn’t let out yet, but it will any minute.
I feel the man’s eyes still on me, and I glance back at him. I cut my eyes away quickly, since he catches me looking, but out of the corner of my eyes, I see him still watching me.
I frown at him that time.
He glances to his left, then his right, casually, but I notice. Then he leans slightly closer to me. “Mia?”
My heart about stops. I’ve picked the kids up many times before and I recognize many of the parents here—but not him. He’s tall with nice blue eyes, a Clark Kent jawline, and dark hair. He has a trustworthy face, but he shouldn’t know my name, so I don’t trust it.
I decide to move away from him.
Shouldering past people with the occasional ‘excuse me,’ I make way to a less crowded part of the hall.
Only, Clark Kent follows me.
He doesn’t look Italian, but Vince’s words about them having associates they aren’t related to flash across my mind and I’m about three seconds from fleeing the school without my brother.
I back up, fixing to turn and run down the hall, but the stranger anticipates my move and reaches a strong hand out, grasping me by the wrist.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” he states firmly, his gaze serious.
My heart hammers inside my chest and I yank my arm. He doesn’t immediately release me, but then he does, glancing around to make sure no one noticed. Apparently satisfied that no soccer mom is quietly calling the police, he comes to stand beside me again.
“I’m a friend, not a foe,” he says.
“Who are you?” I ask, trying to still my shaky hands.
“My name’s Ethan. I’m a private investigator.”
I frown at that, confused. “A private investigator?”
“The Morellis didn’t send me,” he reiterates. “I suspect if they sent someone for you, there would be less talking and more bleeding.”
Well, that’s reassuring. “What do you want?” I ask him.
“To warn you. I took this assignment because it was supposed to be on the up and up, but you won’t see me again after today. I’m not getting tangled up in this mob bullshit again,” he says, with enough derision that I can finally accept he’s not here on behalf of Mateo Morelli.
“Warn me about what?”
“I’ve been on your case for two days, and I already understand how Vince met you.” He pauses, letting that land. “If Mateo takes an interest in looking into you, how long do you think it will take before he figures out where you live?”
I look at him, suspecting I know where he’s going with this, but looking for verification.
Looking regretful, he says, “And how long after that do you think it will take before he sends someone to tie up this loose end?”
“But I’m not…. I wouldn’t…I’m not a loose end.”
“He won’t believe that.”
“But it’s true!”
“It doesn’t matter.” Shoving his hands into his pocket with a neutral expression, he looks like we’re discussing the weather. “This is the only warning you’re going to get, and if you’re smart, you’ll heed it. End it with Vince immediately. He’s not like the older ones; he won’t punish you for leaving him—at this point, at least. Walk away, don’t look back. Don’t go to the bakery after you leave here, don’t get entangled with them at all. Give Mateo Morelli no reason to look twice at you, because if he does…” He trails off, shaking his head. “It won’t end well for you.”
He glances at me one last time, then he makes like he’s walking to a different part of the hall, but slips out the exit doors instead.
What the fuck just happened?
I pull out my phone, hands still shaking. Vince finally gave me his phone number after we had sex, and as I dial the number for the first time, I can’t believe this is why.
“Hey, you,” he greets, almost brightly.
“Vince? I need to talk to you. Can you meet me somewhere?”
“Right now?” he asks, understandably surprised.
“I have to drop Allan off at my house first, but could you meet me right after that?”
“I’m kind of in the middle of something. Can it wait?”
I hesitate, glancing at the doors the man left through. “I don’t think it can.”
---
My heart feels pulled in a hundred different directions when I see Vince emerge from his car, slamming the door shut. He spots me immediately and heads my way, a look of concern on his handsome face.
Hands shoved into his pockets, he asks, “What’s going on?”
I told him nothing on the phone, paranoid that somehow someone would hear. Logically, I realize it’s usually the feds who would listen in on a tap, not the bad guys, but I’m too nervous to take even a single chance at this point.
“There was a man at Allan’s school today.”
Vince scowls. “What do you mean, a man?”
“A man. A private investigator. He was looking into me.”
Vince’s face goes white, and my fear morphs into something darker.
I’m quick to assure him, “He wasn’t—your cousin didn’t send him. He wasn’t from your family.”
“How do you know?” he asks, still pale.
“He—I don’t know for sure who sent him, but he said he was a friend, not a foe, and—and he warned me. From what I’ve heard, I don’t think Mateo would warn me away.” I pause, glancing down at my feet, then back to him. “Especially because he figured out what I know. Based on where I live, and….”
“He knows you saw me,” he reiterates, but more to himself than me.
“Not Mateo—this guy. But he pointed out that if he could make that connection in two days… so could Mateo, if it occurred to him to look.”
“Son of a bitch. Who would sic a PI on you? That doesn’t make sense.”
Obviously, I’ve thought about that pretty thoroughly since that moment happened. I duck my head, unsure how this is going to go over. “There’s only one, maybe two things I can think of. The other day after school, your friend Cherie approached me. And she took me for cupcakes.”
Vince’s eyes close, a look of fury passing over his features.
I go on, anyway. “I didn’t see any guys, but I met Francesca. And she asked for my name, and… the timeline would make sense. If he’s been looking into me for two days…that was three days ago.”
“Francesca wouldn’t sell me out to Mateo,” he says, shaking his head.
“I don’t think she did,” I say quickly. “But I don’t know what you’ve told her about me. I know she referred to me as ‘Vince’s Mia’ when Cherie introduced me, and she seemed about as paranoid regarding Mateo as you, so maybe she just wanted to see what would turn up?”
Eyes closed, Vince turns away from me, cursing at the wind. I know it’s a crazy thing to absorb, so I try to give him time. I still feel like I’m going a little crazy with worry, and the paranoia is already wearing on me. I can’t imagine having to live like this, the way Vince seems to.
He doesn’t turn back around though, and after a few minutes, I approach him, resting a hand on his shoulder. He still doesn’t turn, so I lean my face against his back.
“What do we do?” I ask, quietly.
His silence stretches on, seemingly forever, before he finally turns back to face me. When he does, the look on his face makes me sick to my stomach.
“We can’t see each other anymore.”
Shaking my head in denial, I say, “No. No, that can’t… that can’t be the only way.”
“It is. I never should’ve gotten involved with you to begin with. I put you at risk, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you because of me.”
Clutching the front of his shirt, I shake my head again. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. Listen, what if we got ahead of this? It seems like right now the worst part is the waiting game—will he somehow notice me, or won’t he? If he does, sure, we’re probably screwed, so why don’t we take that possibility off the table? What if we take it to him? What if we stop waiting?”
“No,” Vince says, looking at me like I just suggested we summon the devil to offer him a cup of tea. “No, Mia. Trust me… That is not an option.”
“But why? Isn’t it more suspicious if we try to cover it up? Isn’t honesty the best policy? I want to be with you, I’m not going to tell. I’d be hurting myself as much as you at this point, and if we just explained that to him—”
“He won’t believe it, Mia.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” I demand, stomping my foot in frustration.
“Because we know him. You don’t. You can’t fix this, Mia. Mateo doesn’t believe in loyalty, he doesn’t trust people—he doesn’t trust people he’s related to, he sure as fuck isn’t going to trust some random high school girl!”
I balk at being labeled so dismissively, but I don’t bother mentioning it. “But we have to try!”
“No, we don’t,” he says, defeated. “There is no trying. There are no second chances. I take this to him, I tell him you were a witness, that’s it. There’s no taking that back.”
“But maybe he would surprise you. Maybe he would—”
“He wouldn’t.”
Frustrated by his obstinacy, I argue, “You can’t know what he’ll do.”
He shakes his head. “I know the odds, and I won’t take that chance. I won’t gamble with your life.”
I shake my head, refusing to accept that. “This can’t be… This isn’t fair.”
He sighs, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me close. I throw both arms around him, clinging to him like I can change his mind through sheer force. “I’m so sorry, Mia,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against my forehead.
I don’t want him to be sorry. I want him to be braver. Nobody wants to believe me, but I just can’t imagine someone being so unbending, so unreasonable. What if he’s wrong about how his cousin would react? What if it would be okay?
So many thoughts are swirling through my head, stitched together with sadness. It seemed like just a minute ago I was wrapped in his arms in my bed, my skin against his, our bodies entwined. I knew it probably wouldn’t last forever, but I thought it would last longer than this.
Vince pulls back, but it takes a few minutes. The look on his face hurts my heart and infuriates the part of me that wants to keep fighting, confident this is a fight we could win. We’ll never know if it would’ve worked, because he’s too damn afraid.
“So this is it?” I ask, wrapping my arms around myself. “I don’t get to see you again?”
“We’ll pass each other in the halls,” he says, with a sad attempt at a smile.
Despondency wallops me and I shake my head. “I don’t want this.”
He nods. “I know.” After a brief pause that I hope he’s going to follow up with a flicker of doubt, something I can work with, he leans in and brushes his lips against mine in a soft, chaste kiss. Ironic, considering I just threw my virginity at him a couple nights ago.
“Goodbye, Mia.”
I don’t move as he heads to his car, still hanging onto a flimsy hope he’ll change his mind. I wait, each second, for his steps to slow, for him to stop. I wait for him to look back at me over his shoulder, realize he’ll do anything to hold onto me, and head back. Slow at first, then he’ll jog. I’ll meet him halfway and he’ll wrap his arms around me, pulling me close. He’ll assure me we’ll figure this out, but he’s not ready to give up on me, not yet.
But it doesn’t happen. Everything feels heavier as he opens the car door and slides in, and the last of my hopes fall away when he fires up the engine and drives off, leaving me standing in the middle of some random sidewalk, all by myself.