“I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?”

We’re hurtling around the west side of Chicago, going to who knows where, and Gio’s eyes are constantly moving. Rearview mirror. Sideview mirror. I don’t know what—or who—he saw when we left his house, but it has him scared. No. Scared isn’t the right word. Determined.

“The silence.”

Those eyes settle on me for an instant before they’re back on the road. “The radio’s on.”

I do the only thing I can think to do. I reach for his hand. “Let me in. Tell me what you’re thinking. Tell me where we’re going, at least.”

He doesn’t flinch away from my hand, doesn’t pull away, only threads his fingers through mine. Another glance, this one full of heat. A knot in my chest releases. For the first time, I feel like it’s the two of us against the world.

I wait for Gio to speak, and it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I want to talk to him—talk at him—but I know instinctively that men like him need to fill the silences for themselves.

“I thought I was alone in this,” he says finally, changing lanes to pass a cherry-red Honda. As soon as he has both hands free again, his hand is back on mine. “This...mission for my father.” His forehead knits together. “I thought it was in my hands.” Is it subconscious, the way he gives my hand a gentle squeeze as he says this? “But my father’s too powerful to leave this to his youngest son. I should have seen it. I should have known.”

A cold dread trickles down my spine and pools deep in my gut. I’d thought we were running to something, but Jesus, could I have been any more oblivious? We’re also running away.

“What do you mean?”

“We were being followed,” Gio confirms, as if he can read my mind.

Shit.

It was never going to be as easy as running away together, letting the dust settle, a plan of his cobbled together in fifteen seconds while he packed his bag. If that’s even what his plan was. All I knew is that we were going to talk to someone. Someone with more information. God, it seems vague. Can I even trust him?

I have no choice but to trust him.

“Okay,” I say slowly. Gio is one of my oldest friends, one of my oldest loves, if you can call it that, if that aching puppy love counts as the real thing. It seems real now, throbbing under the knot of my heart, but it’s blended in with fear and exhaustion and adrenaline, too. Will I ever be able to separate them out? “What do we do?”

Gio gives my hand a reassuring squeeze and I feel it, through his solid grip—what we had between us still there, an ember waiting to be nurtured into a flame. “Same plan,” he says. “I need information.” There’s a cautious tone to his voice. “It’s a risk.”

“For me or for you?”

“For both of us.”

I am already living from one risky moment to the next. “What kind of risk?”

“We need to talk to my brother.”

While we wend our way toward one of the outer suburbs, Gio tells me about his brothers.

I’ve heard their names before, but it was so many years ago that they’ve long since blended into meaninglessness. Vincent is the brash one, he tells me. “He works as a security guard. Impressive clients, too, from what I understand.” Luca’s the studious one, and at the mention of his name Gio nods. “He’s impressive as hell, too. His firm downtown services all kinds of high-profile people.” His mouth curves in a smile that makes me wish we were parked so I could kiss him again. “Not that he names names.”

“Of course not.”

It’s basically a separate city, where Luca lives, not truly part of Chicago at all. “He likes to keep his work far from his home,” Gio comments as he steers us past a group of older women working at the soil in a flowerbed. The flowerbed accentuates a recently painted wooden sign that reads Welcome! I relax. How much of a risk could Luca be, if he lives in a town like this?

“Are you sure he’s at home?”

“He spends his Saturdays away from the office,” Gio laughs. “Not that it matters, because he always brings his work home with him. But he’ll be here.”

It’s only a few more minutes until Gio pulls us into the driveway in front of a neat house, painted white, with navy blue shutters thrown open wide.

It reminds me of my uncle’s house and my heart twists. Is he worried about me yet? I’m old enough to go out on my own for a night, so he might not think anything’s wrong for a long time. When Gio’s finished with all this, I’ll ask to call him. I’ll let him know that I’m still safe for the moment.

We both look out the window toward Luca’s house. The lawn is mowed and the hedges underneath the shutters are trimmed. Is he the kind of man who hires this kind of work out, or is this what he spends his Saturdays on? If he looks anything like Gio, I wouldn’t mind seeing him outside sans shirt. I keep that thought to myself.

Still, a prickling unease settles at the back of my neck now that the hum of the car is gone. “I think I’d better wait here.”

Gio raises my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “I think that’s a good idea. I won’t be long.” He throws open the door and steps out, leaning back in once more before he heads for the front door. “Don’t worry, Sia. Nothing bad will happen here. He’s the one I trust the most.”