CHAPTER TWELVE
THE INTERCEPTION
The thunder of feet against the pavement startled me from my thoughts. I snapped my head up just in time to see Nic racing towards me. I shoved the card into the back pocket of my jeans.
He skidded to a halt right in front of me. His eyes held a wild, frenzied look. ‘What was that about?’
Surprise at seeing him was quickly replaced by bitter memories of my fight with Luca, and all the things that were said. Nic shouldn’t be here. And yet he was, and this time it definitely wasn’t for me.
I folded my arms and looked around him. ‘Hmm? What was what about?’
Nic frowned in a very obvious I-know-you’re-lying kind of way. ‘I saw you talking to Sara Marino just now …’
‘You mean your cousin?’ Their bone structures were identical; she had Nic’s cheekbones and Luca’s mouth.
Nic levelled me with a dark look, funnily similar to the one Sara had just offered me in similar circumstances. ‘Don’t call her that. She’s scum, just like the rest of them.’
Family politics can really feel like they’re sapping the marrow from your bones. Especially when somehow you get caught in the middle. I was like a goldfish trying to navigate its way through two opposing schools of sharks. ‘Where did you come from?’ I asked, changing tack.
He gestured behind him, to the side street by the library across the road. Much more subtle than Dom and Gino’s earlier stake-out point. But then again, they were idiots. ‘Calvino and I were watching the diner.’
‘Why?’
Nic narrowed his eyes. ‘We think there’s something in there,’ he said, cagily. ‘Something your uncle needs.’
‘What?’
Nic clamped his mouth shut and frowned.
‘Why are you giving me that dirty look?’ I asked him.
‘How long have you known he’s with the Marinos?’
‘I’m not getting involved in this,’ I told him sharply. ‘I don’t know anything about anyone.’
‘Do you know what this means?’ he said, but I got the impression he wasn’t really asking me. He was asking himself. The implications were huge. They were etched across his face.
‘It doesn’t mean anything,’ I said. ‘You don’t know anything for sure. That girl didn’t mention anything about Jack.’ It was a brazen lie, but better than letting the anger escalate, better than fuelling the fire.
He pulled his hand through his hair, cupping the back of his neck. ‘Do you have to be so difficult?’ he murmured.
‘Do you ever take a holiday?’ I countered. ‘Like, do any of you just wake up and think “Today feels like a pyjama day.”? Or is it always, “Today is a good day for murdering and stalking.”? Seriously, Nic. Seriously.’
He came closer, until I could feel the heat of his body.
‘Seriously,’ he echoed, his voice strained.
I stared at his chest. I didn’t want to look at his eyes. ‘You are so … frustrating.’
Nic loosed a loaded breath, and I caught the edge of his smile in a mistaken glance at his face. Don’t look at him. ‘I know that feeling,’ he said, his murmur warming the shell of my ear. I wanted to scream, cry, shove him and then possibly make out with him. Dammit. It felt like my whole body was on fire. It occurred to me that I might be on the verge of having a breakdown in the middle of Gracewell’s parking lot. The stakes felt too high all of a sudden.
What was he doing here? What the hell was Jack playing at? What was in that diner?
And where? I knew every inch of that place.
‘Sophie, ti prego.’ Nic’s words were a quiet nudge. He curled his arm around me, pulling me into him. I pressed my fingers against his chest, feeling the quick th-thump of his heartbeat. Human, fallible. Scared, I realized. Scared of what was to come. Gently, he pressed his forehead to mine. ‘Everything will be OK,’ he whispered, his heartbeat galloping beneath my fingertips. ‘Just tell me what she said to you.’
I made the mistake of looking at him. I could smell the faint scent of alpine, almost feel the heady blissfulness of the last time we had kissed. I swallowed. ‘She didn’t say anything.’
He inhaled sharply. ‘Fine, let’s talk about something else, then.’
‘Like what?’
His eyes were trained on my lips. His hand moved to the small of my back, the other cupped the back of my neck, pulling me into him. ‘This,’ he said gruffly.
He pressed his lips against mine, hard and searching. I shivered against him as his kiss grew stronger and more urgent. No. I made myself think. I made myself remember. He dragged his hand down my back, brushing his fingers along the waistband of my jeans. No. I pulled my lips from his just as he slipped his hand into my back pocket. I pushed against him, but it was too late; he was already pulling the card out from where I had tucked it.
He jumped back from me as I lashed out at him. He jerked his head and my fingers caught his chin. Quick, but not quick enough. His hand flew to his jaw.
His eyes went wide. ‘Sophie.’
‘How could you?’ I gasped.
‘I’m protecting you.’ He shook the alarm from his face and flipped the card over, his dark eyes slitting as he read Jack’s handwritten message to me. ‘I had to do it.’
I glared at him.
‘You weren’t going to give it to me,’ he said.
‘It was mine! I didn’t have to!’
‘You don’t know what you’re dealing with here, Sophie.’
I had to curl my fingernails into my palms to keep from trying to slap him again. ‘In that one kiss, you just cheapened everything we ever had.’
Alarm spread across his face. He stepped into our bubble again, his hands reaching out for mine. ‘I didn’t cheapen it. I did it to look out for you.’
I backed away from him. ‘Just leave me alone.’
‘You can’t go see your uncle, Sophie. I don’t care if you’re mad at me, but you can’t go into that club. That’s Black Hand territory. It’s not safe for you there.’
I gestured around me as I walked away. ‘It’s not safe for me anywhere!’
He matched my quickened pace easily. ‘Listen to me. Donata Marino doesn’t care about Jack. The Marinos never associate with anyone outside their family. They’re using him, and if you get sucked into their world, they’ll use you too. I’m asking you – I am begging you – do not go to that club.’
I didn’t look back at him. ‘It’s none of your business what I choose to do.’
‘I’ll make it my business to go in there after you.’
I turned around. ‘You wouldn’t!’
He set his jaw. ‘Try me.’
‘You can’t manipulate me like that,’ I hissed. But he could and he was. I didn’t want him following me into that club and going head-to-head with my uncle and all his new allies. There would be blood, and it would be on my conscience.
I started walking again. ‘You were supposed to stay away from me.’
He followed me. ‘That was before.’
‘Before what.’
‘Before I knew the Black Hand were involved.’
My mind was swirling with possibilities. How could I get rid of Nic from this scenario? How could I convince him not to come to that club? He wasn’t going to give up.
‘Let’s make a deal, then,’ I said, swivelling. I masked my features and lifted my eyes to his. I made them as wide as I could and nudged at my bottom lip with my teeth.
He watched me, unblinking.
I drew in a breath and with all the sincerity I could muster I made my proposition. ‘I won’t go to Eden if you promise not to go to Eden.’
He looked past me, contemplating. He drummed his fingers against his jaw. ‘You promise?’
‘I promise,’ I lied.
‘OK, then,’ he relented. ‘So do I.’
As I let myself in, a chair screeched in the kitchen and my mother rushed to meet me in the hallway. Her face was drawn tight.
My throat seized up. ‘Mom? What’s going on?’
She held up my pillow in greeting, the bloodied side turned towards me.
Crap.
‘Sophie?’ She padded towards me. ‘What’s happened?’
The cut on my palm burnt with the memory. The image of my mother crying by herself that night in the kitchen had been seared into my brain – the vision so like the version of my mother approaching me now, searching my face for clues. Guilt bubbled inside me. I blinked once, slowly, banishing the memories.
‘Oh, yeah.’ I took the pillow from her, held it by a corner and rotated it, forcing nonchalance. ‘I had a nosebleed a couple of nights ago.’ I flicked my gaze across her features, praying the lie would land. ‘The doctor said it would probably happen once or twice, since my nose is still healing. It’s not a big deal.’
Her eyebrows drew together, creasing her forehead. ‘Why didn’t you wake me when it happened?’
You weren’t asleep. I shrugged. ‘It was late. I didn’t see the point.’
‘The point?’ My mother shook her head. ‘You should have come to me, Sophie. You know you can always come to me.’
‘It was just a nosebleed. It had almost stopped by the time I woke up.’
‘Still,’ she said. ‘I’m your mother. That’s what I’m here for.’
I offered her a half smile in the dimness. ‘Please don’t worry about it.’
‘Sweetheart,’ she mirrored my smile, her head cocked lightly to one side, ‘it’s a mother’s job to worry.’
I had to crush an urgent need to hug her. There was something strange in the air, and it was making me feel like I might burst out crying at any moment. She was so small and tired, and yet even now, there was a constant ripple of strength in her. Strength for me. Strength I wanted her to keep for herself.
Get a grip, Soph.
‘I’m fine, Mom.’ There was a short silence. The pillow hung limply at my side. I debated doing an elaborate twirl, and decided that might be overkill. Instead, I lightened my voice. ‘Everything is fine … except of course for this pillow, which, unfortunately, is not. I think it’s time we put it out to pasture.’
She stared at the pillow, mock-frowning. ‘Poor little guy.’
I held it up for examination. ‘I’ll miss him.’
‘We’ll get you a better one,’ she stage-whispered, pretending to block her mouth with her hand. ‘Bigger and puffier.’
I drew my eyes wide. ‘Mother,’ I chastised. ‘Have some respect. He can hear you.’
We laughed, and for a moment it felt real. She followed me into the kitchen, where I threw the pillow in the trash. ‘Sayonara,’ I declared, stuffing it into the can. I turned back to my mother. ‘In the interest of honesty, I feel I should tell you I’ll be stealing a pillow from your room in the next three minutes or so.’
She smiled even brighter that time. ‘What’s mine is yours.’
‘In that case, I might also commandeer that tear-drop necklace with the emerald stone.’
‘Except my jewellery, clothes, make-up and everything else I consider valuable,’ she added with a wink. ‘You may, however, help yourself to a small handful of my potpourri.’
‘Wow.’ I blew out an exhale. ‘You generous lady.’
She picked up a mug from the table. The moment felt so wonderfully normal. I wished I could have wrapped myself inside it and forced everything else from my mind, but like all good things, it faded too quickly. I turned to go, and she gripped my arm, squeezing it just above the elbow. She eyed me over the rim of her mug, peppermint on her breath as she said softly, ‘You know you don’t have to pretend, sweetheart. Not with me.’
We watched each other in silence, the bloodied pillow just a couple of feet away, my father’s absence filling up the space between us.
‘Neither do you,’ I said quietly.
Her gaze turned quizzical but she kept the mug high. ‘I’m not pretending.’
‘OK,’ I conceded. ‘If you say so.’
I left her nursing her tea, staring at something far beyond the kitchen window. Another life, maybe. One before my father, before me, when she was a budding designer in a city far away, with high hopes and big dreams. Not this small town, this stifled life, these blood-red memories pressing down on us.