––––––––

“I’m not sure about this,” Nora said, climbing out the car. Greg held his hand out for her and she grabbed onto it, needing his touch to calm her nerves.

“I’m here and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He pressed a kiss to her temple and shut her door.

“It makes no sense that you’d agree to this.” She shook her head. Getting an invitation to meet with Victor Santinelli didn’t exactly give her a warm sense of security. Why would the head of the family want to speak with her, and insist that Greg bring her, if he wasn’t looking to hurt them?

Greg squeezed her hand. “There’s a lot about what I do that hasn’t made any sense since I met you.”

She felt the heat spread up her neck but turned away. He’d been so gentle with her since he had rescued her from Bernie. All sweet words and loving embraces. Which were comforting and amazing, but she missed his overbearing dominance. She missed his eyebrows rising when he didn’t like her tone. Now all she got was a small shake of his head.

“If Victor wanted us dead, he wouldn’t have asked us to meet him. He would have just had us killed.” Greg pulled her closer to him when they reached the entrance to the restaurant. She had no stomach for eating.

“You’re right.” She took a deep breath.

“I’m almost always right, trouble. If you’d just remember that we’d have less issues.” He winked at her and pulled the door open for her. She rolled her eyes and walked past him, careful of his wounded foot. He refused to use the armband for his injured arm or the boot the doctor gave him for his foot. He swore his own damn boot was protection enough.

The restaurant was empty. Nora’s stomach twisted.

“It’s okay,” Greg whispered in her ear from behind her. “They aren’t open to the public yet.”

“Oh.” She breathed a little easier. Then he hadn’t cleared the place in order to have privacy for their murder.

“Greg. Elenora.” Victor Santinelli, a man old enough to be Nora’s grandfather stood up from a table in the rear of the dining room. His arms outstretched, beckoning them further.

Nora looked to her left and right, trying to find his men. A man like Victor Santinelli wouldn’t just sit alone in a room; anyone could walk in and take him out.

“I have men in the kitchens, and in the next room, Elenora,” Victor said with a grin. “Smart girl to survey your surroundings. But you should do so with more subtlety.” He shook a finger at her. If he hadn’t been smiling when he spoke she would have thought she’d insulted him.

“Mr. Santinelli.” Greg shook his hand, then placed his own on Nora’s back, urging her forward a step.

“Hello.” She managed to keep her tone even, though her fear and her anger still mixed together inside her, tumbling together.

“Elenora.” Victor gripped her hands between both of his and stared down at her. If she trusted what she saw, she’d think he had remorse in his features, but he was a practiced liar and criminal. She wouldn’t believe him. Nothing he was going to say to them would be true. She needed to remember that.

“It has been so long since I saw you. Your father, he was a smart man, he kept you from his business. From all of us.” Victor let go of her hand and gestured for them to take a seat at his table.

Greg held out the chair for Nora and she sat directly across from Victor, putting her hands under the table. It hadn’t felt scary for him to touch her. It had almost felt like a grandfatherly touch.

“If I’ve met you before, I’m sorry, I don’t remember,” she said.

“No, you wouldn’t. You were only about two, I think. Yes, right before your mother went missing.”

She froze at the mention of her mother.

“You, you knew my mother?”

“Well, we’d met. Your father didn’t bring your mother or you around very much. He was just a small part of the business back then, a foot soldier. I didn’t see him very much either. He was wise to keep you two away from his work. And after your mother went missing, he kept you away completely. He was a good man. He protected his family and never broke his loyalty to me.”

“I didn’t know what my father did for work. Other than Bernie, I didn’t have any extended family,” she found herself explaining.

Victor’s eyes went hard at the mention of Bernie.

“Bernie was—a disappointment.”

Greg ran his thumb along Nora’s palm, settling her nerves.

“What happened to him?” Nora asked blatantly.

“Nora.” Greg squeezed her hand. “Why don’t we see what Mr. Santinelli wanted to talk about before we start asking questions.”

“It’s okay.” Victor waved a hand. “You were smart to bring Bernie to me. And his associate,” he said to Greg. When he turned his gaze back to Nora, he softened again. “He’s been dealt with, that’s all you need to know.”

“I think I’ve had enough of everyone else deciding what I need to know or what I don’t need to know.” Nora pulled her hand free from Greg and pressed her palms to the table.

Victor’s lips curled at the ends. “You’re right. She’s a fighter.”

Nora turned to Greg, looking for an explanation.

“What is he talking about?” Nora demanded.

Greg gave a quick glance at Victor before he proceeded. “I served with Mr. Santinelli’s nephew last year.”

A sick feeling crept down Nora’s body. “Was he one of the men that didn’t—” She didn’t finish her question but sank in her seat. If Victor held Greg responsible for his nephew’s death, it could mean bad things for both of them.

“No. He’s fine. Lives in New York now,” Victor answered before Greg could.

“When John called me, the last day we were at the cabin, and told me Bernie’s connection to the Santinelli family, I got in touch with Nikko, his nephew. Mr. Santinelli called me. That’s the conversation I think you overheard.”

Her heart pounded in her chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She whispered the question, feeling a sense of betrayal.

Greg grabbed her hand again. “If I remember correctly, we had something else to deal with at that moment. And you never asked me, you came to your own conclusions before I could explain. And in the moment, I couldn’t remember every conversation I’d had the day before. I was too busy trying to keep you from getting into that SUV.”

Her face heated at the memory of what they’d done after she’d come into the kitchen after his call.

“What did you have to deal with?” Victor asked, breaking the tension between Greg and Nora.

She blinked and looked away. “It was nothing.”

Greg chuckled. “It was personal.”

“Why did we leave then? Why bother with Bernie if you knew he was going behind Victor’s back?” Nora asked.

“I asked him to go along with whatever Bernie’s plan was, but to give me an update the following day. Bernie was never to actually get his hands on you. I couldn’t get a hold of him, and my men were tracking him down,” Victor explained.

“John and I were able to get to you faster. Mr. Santinelli called his men away. That’s why there wasn’t anyone there that afternoon. No one to stop us from getting our hands on Bernie,” Greg explained.

Nora shook her head. Even in the crime world there was a hierarch. “You knew what he’d done to my mother.” Nora clenched her hands. She needed to keep her wits about her, keep her temper checked or she wouldn’t get the answers she needed.

“Your father came to me with his suspicions. I gave him my word I would look into it, but before I could get solid information, Bernie had him killed. But I couldn’t prove it, it was just a gut feeling. I can’t kill a man of his level on just a gut feeling. It looked like Antonio was going to take the heat for it—at least rumor wise. But then you went to the flower shop looking for a job.”

“I didn’t think he’d know who I was.”

Victor laughed softly. “Elenora, you look too much like your father with those eyes and that stubborn streak of yours to not be recognizable to someone who knew him. Antonio knew who you were; he gave you the job to keep an eye on you. To keep you safe.”

Nora sat back in her chair, the wind having been knocked right out of her.

“It seems everyone around me knew what the hell was going on in my life, except me.”

Victor’s smile dropped. “Yes. It does look that way. But understand, your father wanted you protected from all of this. He never wanted you to know me, or anyone. Bernie—well, he trusted Bernie.”

“Bernie said my mother died, was he lying to me?” She leaned closer toward him. Hope burning through her chest, pounding in her ears, while she waited for him to tell her she would see her mother. She wanted to hear these words, needed to hear them. Something good had to come out of all the bad she’d been through.

“I’m sorry, Elenora, no. He wasn’t lying. That was one of the things I wanted to talk to you about when I asked you here.”

Greg reached over and grabbed her hand again. More gentleness. She didn’t shake him off, but she wanted to. She wanted to yell at him to go back to being the asshole she knew from the cabin. The unrelenting strong force she had come to depend on.

“I have found her resting place and would like to take care of giving her a proper service. I will make all the arrangements. I assume you’d like her placed beside your father?”

Tears burned Nora’s eyes. She’d never known her mother. Had already thought her dead until a few days ago. Why should it hurt so much now?

“Yes.” She wiped her hand across her eyes, wiping away the unshed tears. “That would be nice.”

“I know that no amount of money could ever replace your father and mother or fix what you’ve gone through over the past week, but I’m making arrangements to be certain you are well cared for.”

“She’s going to be cared for, I won’t let anything happen to her,” Greg spoke up.

Victor looked over at him, his gaze narrowing before his lips cracked into a smile. “I have no doubt about that. Nikko told me about you. Stubborn to a fault and a damn good leader. Born to it, he said. But I’m talking about money.”

“I don’t want your money,” Nora said in a hard tone. She wanted her father back. She wanted her damn mother. Just one memory, she wanted one memory of her mother. “It won’t fix anything. How much horror my mother lived with can’t be taken back with money.”

Victor nodded sadly. “Your mother will be avenged, Elenora. I’m seeing to that personally.”

“Avenged doesn’t bring her back,” Nora said.

“No, it doesn’t.”

Silence stretched across the table.

“All I can do is help you for the future. And with or without your permission, that’s happening.” Victor turned to Greg. “I’ve opened an account in her name. It will be replenished on a monthly basis. She never went to college; if she would like to attend, I just need to know what school and it will be taken care of.”

“Why would you do all that?” Nora asked, astounded by the generosity of Victor’s guilt.

“Because I have a daughter. And your father was a good man.” Victor patted her hand. “Before Antonio was killed, he told me you enjoyed working with flowers. The business was just a little front, but you knew that. He said you were constantly making it better, wanting to bring in new business, make better arrangements.”

“If you’re going to do something, do it right.” Nora quoted her father.

“The flower shop is yours if you want it,” Victor announced.

“No,” Greg said flatly.

Nora shot him a look. Now he decides to bring in that dark voice of his. “Well, wait—”

“No. I’m sorry, Mr. Santinelli, that’s a very generous offer, but she won’t be working for your family in any capacity.” Greg’s tone might as well have been a size fifteen boot stomping on the ground.

Victor looked him over with a steely gaze, then nodded in agreement. “I can understand that.”

“Again. Maybe I should be the one to decide—”

“Then you’ll help her set up shop somewhere else. I won’t let you tell me no on this. It will be a gift to you both.” His suggestive tone didn’t get past Nora but before she could comment on it, Greg had already agreed.

“I’m not sure I can take—”

“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Don’t take my generosity as a weakness. You’ll be sorely disappointed to find out how wrong you are.” Victor’s eyes darkened. This was a man who would not accept no for an answer, and Nora doubted he ever had.

“Of course, Mr. Santinelli. We’ll be glad to accept your gift.”

Victor’s stern expression morphed into a soft smile. “Good to hear it. I will have someone reach out when the plans for the memorial are finalized. It will take a few days.”

“We don’t need a full service,” Nora said. “I-I don’t have any other family. Just me.”

“And me,” Greg said. “Something small.”

Victor nodded. “Yes. That will be good, I think.”

“I have one more question. Dr. Smith. What happened with her?” Nora asked.

“Dr. Smith?” Victor’s brow wrinkled.

“Her name is Anna Jenson. Bernie kidnapped her when she was in her early twenties. She’s been working with him for over fifteen years,” Greg explained. “We didn’t hand her over to you.”

Victor thought for a long moment. “Where is she now?”

“Her family has taken her back home. She’s no danger to you,” Greg said with finality.

“How can you guarantee that?” Victor asked with a stern voice.

“For fifteen years she lived with the threat of something happening to her family if she did anything other than what Bernie told her to do. She never had a moment of peace,” Greg went on. “She never knew who Bernie worked for and has no connections to the Santinelli family. She has a lot of healing to do.”

Nora remembered Dr. Smith. Recalled the soft way she dealt with her, how she made a horrible situation almost bearable. Nora had told Greg what happened with her and asked him to make sure Dr. Smith found a safe place to go. And it seemed he had done just that.

“I will let her go, then.” Victor nodded.

“If there’s nothing else?” Greg placed his hands on the table, getting ready to get up.

“If you should need something, you can find me through Nikko,” Victor answered. “And if I need something. I’ll find you.”

As threats went, it wasn’t toe-curling, but Nora wouldn’t be hoping to see Victor Santinelli or any member of his family again anytime in the near lifetime.

Greg held Nora’s hand to the car and opened her door. Finally, the air came easier to breathe and the tension eased out of her body. They’d managed to get through that without getting shot.

Once they pulled away from the restaurant, Nora looked out the back window.

“No one’s following us. It’s over, trouble,” he said.

“You’re back to calling me trouble,” she said, turning back around in her seat.

“I have a feeling you’re going be back to causing me a lot of it soon.” He nodded.

“I’m sorry this all happened,” she blurted out. “I’m sorry your brother had to send his family into hiding, I’m sorry I’ve been nothing but trouble for you.”

Greg didn’t speak, just pulled the car into an empty lot and parked.

“You’ve had a shit time of it lately,” he said, turning in his seat and capturing her face with his hands. “You may be trouble sometimes, you may be irritatingly stubborn, and need a little firmer hand than others, but you are worth every bit of it.”

She swallowed. Feeling his touch on her skin soothed some of her frayed edges. But she knew what was coming for her, what was next. She had to part ways with him.

“But you can’t keep doing it,” she whispered, filling in his sentence.

“Doing what?”

She gazed into his eyes, knowing it was one of the last times she’d be doing so.

“You can’t keep protecting me. You can’t keep me. I know that.”

His brow wrinkled, and his eyes darkened.

“It’s why you’ve been so gentle the past few days. You know it’s time for us to... for me to go—” One hand clamped over her mouth and her nose, cutting off not only her words but her air.

“You can’t possibly be that dense.” He shook his head, loosening his grip to give her some air. “Do you think I would have taken you to see Victor Santinelli if I wasn’t in this for the long haul?”

She didn’t know how to answer that. He’d been so kind the past few days, he would have.

He increased the pressure around her mouth. “Of course I wouldn’t. I’ve been gentle with you because you just went through something fucking horrible. I was giving you time.”

She brought her hands up and pulled on his wrist, getting some air when he pulled his fingers back.

“So, what happens now?” she mumbled behind his palm.

“Now, we go home, and I tan that pretty ass of yours for assuming things again without talking about it. Then we deal with what we found out today.”

She blinked, letting the tears fall and get caught by his hand. He moved it, wiping his thumb across her cheekbone.

“Your brother will never forgive me. He had to send his wife and daughter into hiding. How can you even think—” He cut off her air again.

“I can see it’s going to be a very long tanning.” He pressed his lips together. “One day, after you can sit properly again, you can ask Aubree about how she and Blake got together and then you can see that Blake has nothing to forgive you for. He’s sort of used to chaos.” He pulled his hand off but pressed one finger to her lips. “But for now, no talking. And if you try, I’ll add ten strokes for every word you utter.”

She swallowed back the smartass comment. He meant it, he meant everything he said. And there would be no second chances given.

Once she nodded her understanding, he sat back in his seat and pulled the car into traffic.

“I know you don’t understand it, but I also know you love it as much as I do. And that’s why I know we’ll be okay. We’ll get through this and be good.”

“What?” she asked then slapped her hand over her mouth.

He flashed a grin. “An extra ten.” Reaching over the console, he squeezed her thigh. “I know that you love every second of it.”

She didn’t fall for his vague statement, she wouldn’t ask again. But she tilted her head in questioning.

“You love every second of becoming my pet.”

She didn’t bother trying to deny it. Even if she could use words. Out of all the badness, it had been the one good thing that came out of all of it.

He was right.

She had loved every bit of becoming his pet.