The next few days pass by in a blur.

As plans are made, I get antsy.

Things are moving too slow.

I’m over this whole situation.

I miss Cherry.

Rhys has kept his promise by taking the girls south. They’re staying in a small coastal town in Alabama, and he sends me daily pictures of the girls lounging on the beach, enjoying the sunshine. I wish I were with them.

Since coming back to San Diego, I’ve been staying at a new hotel and rented a different truck, because I know the last one was bugged. How else would Martinelli know of my nickname for Tessa? I’ve never spoken it to anyone associated with him. As far as Mick goes, she’s Theresa, not Tessa, and she sure as hell isn’t Cherry to him.

It’s been hell only talking to her for a few minutes each night, but I don’t want to chance her being found. We limit our talks to five minutes and switch out burner phones every other day. Paranoid? Maybe, but like I said, her safety means everything to me. It’s the most important thing, her staying safe and out of harm’s way. If anything happens to me, so be it. I’ve thought about dying for months now.

I’m on my way to a meeting with Justin. We’re meeting at the zoo, of all places. To an onlooker we’ll look like two guys chatting it up on a bench near the giant pandas. Shaving the beard actually did change his appearance, an excellent move on his part; he looks like an entirely different guy. If Mikey were to spy him, he’d never think he was the guy I was kissing that night long ago. To the others who’ve seen him, he doesn’t look like FBI agent Justin Milks.

Pulling into the zoo’s parking lot, I spy a spot near the front. Parking the truck quickly, I use my newly acquired donor pass and enter through the gates while others stand in line. Stopping at a food booth, I grab two soft pretzels and proceed to the panda habitat. The crowd here today is heavy; must be because it’s a Saturday afternoon.

Seeing Justin already sitting on a bench off to the side, I casually walk over and take a seat.

“Cockbreath, great to see you.” I offer him the extra pretzel, and he grabs it then takes a bite before greeting me.

“Thanks for the noms, dickhead.”

“Dickhead? Are you tired or something? Because dickhead isn’t creative, like at all,” I tease.

“I’m stressed. This case is running me ragged. I’ve been putting in more hours and could use a day off, but that’s beside the point. Are you ready to take down your flesh and blood? The lightest charge against him is the murder charge. All I’m asking is, are you emotionally ready to put the bastard away?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask.

“Because he’s your father, Brant. I know you’re not close to him, but it’s a lot to take on, not to mention you’ll be the star witness when he goes to trial. We’re not arresting everyone in the family. Fuck, we don’t know them all, barely half. I’m asking if you’re ready to have your world turned upside down.”

“Hell yes I am.”

I’m more than ready to take him down, to have his murdering ass tossed in a cell. It’s been a long time coming. The sunglasses I left in his office produced a shitload of intel. Combined with the information I’ve given over the last couple months, that in itself would be enough to put him away for the rest of his pitiful life.

But, I handed them his head on a silver platter: a video of him pulling the trigger on not one, but four known associates. Four open missing person cases—solved.

How did I come to possess the video? I recorded it.

I’ve had the smoking gun for a few months now. I didn’t want to use it, but once he started having my girl followed, all bets were off.

The video was shot from the inside of a sedan. It was recorded at nearly dusk in a parking lot on Chicago’s lower east side. The audio is nonexistent, but the video shows enough for him to be out of my life forever.

You can clearly see him pull the trigger and walk back over toward the car, where I was waiting for us to go have dinner. He had received a call while we were on our way and dropped everything to ‘take care of business’.

Maybe I didn’t personally kill anyone, but I feel like I have. I’ve issued a few orders on his behalf to have certain enemies taken care of.

“I can’t thank you enough for the offer of immunity. You know I would’ve been all right spending a few years in a cell. At best, when I started giving you intel, I was betting on a reduced sentence, a plea deal or something. I never expected full immunity. Thank you, man. Because of you, when this whole ordeal is over, I get to spend the rest of my days loving Cherry.”

If he only knew how much the offer means to me. Now, if I could get rid of this lead ball in my stomach, life would be golden.

“No thanks needed. Truthfully, I didn’t have much to do with it. The suits in the Chicago office along with the guys here decided it was what was best for all involved,” he informs me.

“I don’t care how it came to be, I’m thanking you. If you hadn’t moved in next door, I never would’ve seen a way out of this fucked-up life.”

Before meeting him, I never imagined I could get off of this track. He’s changed my life for the better, in more ways than one.

“You’re welcome, I guess. Anyway, let’s get down to business.”

We spend the next hour going over what I’ll say in the meeting with Martinelli later tonight. If I can succeed in getting him to say he pulled the trigger and ended anyone’s life, we’re golden—not him saying he’s issued the kill order, but actually killed someone himself and gotten his hands dirty.

These next couple of hours can’t pass fast enough. Once I get what’s needed, they’ll attempt the arrests. As it stands now, the plan is that it’ll happen Monday night. Technically, I could leave town after meeting with him tonight, but I’m staying to see the cuffs slapped on his fat wrists.

“Best of luck tonight, asslicker,” Justin says sardonically.

Chuckling, I nod at him. “Better, but I know you can be more creative, dick wrangler.”

“Best one yet, not to mention accurate,” Justin quips back. “I mean it though, good luck.”

“Thanks, man.”

Standing, I give him a fist bump and walk over to look at Cherry’s furry friends, snapping a picture to send to her later—or show her, whichever comes faster: her ability to use her phone or me seeing her.

Deciding not to bother Louie, I don’t stop in and check on Goa Goa. It’d be too much, would remind me of her more than is necessary at the moment. I have to concentrate on what I’m going to say to get Martinelli to spill his guts.

Tonight is going to blow ass.

* * *

The drive to Martinelli’s is filled with my rabid thoughts. I’ve been thinking about what to say for damn near the whole day. Hell, who am I kidding—it’s been consuming me for days.

My first order of business will be to ask him for the background check I know he ran on Mick before hiring him. I’ll make up an excuse of him going rogue and showing up in random places I am. The truth is, I’ve yet to run into him once over the last week. Good ol’ Dad must’ve demoted him hardcore, because he’s been MIA…unless he had him offed.

Pulling into the driveway, I take in the extravagant house for what may be the last time. This place is ridiculous. His current wife probably picked it out. There are only two people living there, but it’s at least three thousand square feet, with a pool, a pool house, and guest chambers. Who needs this much space? Surely not the people currently occupying it.

Walking up the stairs, I go over my mental checklist. It’s the only way I can seem to shake my nerves. Trust me, I don’t want him to sense that I’m nervous. I’m let into the house and on my way back to his office before I make it halfway through my list.

It’s now or never, Ashley. Get your shit together.

He greets me the moment my feet cross the entryway, when I’m barely a foot into the room.

“Son, it’s nice to see you. Have a seat.”

“Great to see you, too, sir.” Sir? I rarely call him sir. Great, I’ve blown my cover already.

“Do drop the formalities. You know how I loathe the title sir, especially from my own son. We have some numbers to go through, yes?” he inquires.

“Yes. Before we get to them, though, I’d like to ask a favor of you.”

He’s shuffling through papers strewn across his desktop, looking for what, I have no clue. “What is it?”

Clearing my throat, I stand to make myself a cup of coffee. “I’d like Mick’s information, his background check, and whatever else you may have on him. I’ve noticed him following me more than usual lately. I’d like to know more about him so I’m not caught uninformed, and, well, to be honest, I want to be more informed on the asshole, period.”

“Ah, I see. If you’d like to add liquor to your coffee, it’s in the cabinet to your left.”

He says nothing about the information on Mick.

“And the info, will you give it to me?” I press.

“If you need it, I guess I shall provide it. Let me print you a copy, it’s saved on my computer. Now, tell me the real reason you want it.”

“How do you know there’s another reason?” I ask.

“Because you’re my son. We think alike when it comes to getting revenge. He’s hurt someone you consider yours, and you’d like to issue a little payback, I’m guessing?” He’s hit the nail on the head, but I don’t want him to know it.

“Actually, I’d merely like to be informed on him in case I ever need the information in the future, nothing more, nothing less. I feel karma will get him in the end. I’m not one to hurt someone unnecessarily—we’re not the same in that aspect. You forget what it did to me to see what you did to those four men. I was sick for weeks afterward, not to mention when a news story would pop up randomly.” I may be pushing it, but I think this is the best way to get him to admit what he’s done, if not about those men specifically, at least that he’s killed before. It’s what Justin needs.

“Ah, yes, I had forgotten. You’re not much for seeing violence.”

“It wasn’t mere violence that night, and you know it.” He’s going to know something’s up if I keep going. I’ll drop the subject after this if he doesn’t comment. I’ll get it another way.

“I was merely taking care of business. In this line of work, sometimes a trigger has to be pulled by the don. If the members who’ve taken the Omertà don’t see me in action, how else will I keep them in line? There’s a certain level of fear I have to ensure stays intact. Two of those men were made men, sworn outside members of this family. They had betrayed us and needed to be whacked. It’s quite simple. As underboss, the job should’ve fallen to you, but since you don’t want the title, you don’t do the job.”

Annnnd, pay dirt. He’s in a talkative mood, so maybe I can get more info from him.

“I understand. Why in ten years did you never force me to take the Omertà oath?”

“Would you have taken it?” he asks.

“No, not unless forced to.”

“There’s your answer. An Omertà can’t be forced. It has to be wanted. If you’d stay on, the title of underboss would be made official and you would take the oath, but since you’re adamant about leaving, it shall never be.” His voice is laced with a hint of sadness.

“I’m going to ask a question, and if you don’t want to answer, fine, but I’m asking it anyway.”

“Go ahead. I’m normally forthcoming with you—I see no reason not to be.”

“Did you kill Vinny? Or merely issue the order?” I’ve blamed him for this for years. I’ve even said as much, because I feel deep down he was the one to murder him. I want the truth, but he’s going to stay silent, I just know he is.

Sighing, he jams his fingers through his hair roughly and takes a moment before answering. “I’ve never talked about this with you because it’s a touchy subject, for both of us. Vinny was my son, one I’d known for his whole life, from the first breath he took. When I found out he was working with the Chicago police and possibly the FBI, I was heartbroken. If it had been only me to learn these things, maybe I could’ve talked to him and offered him a way out, hidden him somewhere other members of the family would never find him, but when the current underboss is working against you and several members of your family know, you have said person whacked. Because he was my namesake, I was the one to do it. It gives me nightmares, his face when he realized he was going to die. It’s the worst thing I’ve done in my whole life. I’ve never wanted to tell you because you’re my son as well. I didn’t want you to think I’d be as cold-hearted as to someday kill you as well.”

“Why tell me now?” It’s the only thing I can think of to ask—hell, it’s the only words I can manage. I’m shocked. I shouldn’t be, but I am. The reason Rhys ended up tied up in this operation was because of Vinny’s death, and to think I’ve known the answer deep down all along. I’m looking at a man who killed his own son, all for doing what I’m doing now—working with the FBI.

“Because you asked, and you’re leaving, and I figured it was about time I told you the truth.”

It hurts more than I thought it would, knowing this information. I hope he has a spot reserved in hell; it’s the only place pleasant enough for a man like him. Everyone thought Smith was a monster, but I’m staring at evil incarnate, a true monster in the flesh.

Placing my elbows on my knees, I drop my head into my hands. To hear him say the words? Heartbreaking. He killed my half-brother, his own flesh and blood, his son. Doesn’t he feel like scum? How can he sleep at night? What type of person does this?

“Why couldn’t you have hidden him and claimed he disappeared without your knowledge? What makes you kill your own son? Do you know how much of a monster it makes you? I’ve never been happier to be leaving this operation. If you could kill him, you could kill me.” My words come out a bit muffled, as I’ve yet to remove my hands from my face.

“Of course I feel like shit. I’m disgusted with myself. Why do you think I’ve been pressing you harder to stay? I lost one son; I don’t want to lose another.”

“You killed one son!” I scream. “You could kill me, but you think I would want to stay. Are you insane?”

“No, I’m desperate, Brant. I know the only way I can keep you in my life is to threaten those you love. Do you think I enjoy issuing threats? Do you think I like knowing I have to do this in order to see you? Fuck no, I don’t. I hate having to threaten my own son to stay in my life. I wish you loved me, then I wouldn’t have to do the things I do.”

Love? He wants me to love him? He’s nuttier than I thought.

“I could never love a monster like you.” With those words, I stand and walk out of his office. I’ve never been happier than I am in this moment, knowing he’s going to rot in prison for the rest of his natural life.

The waves of the ocean bring me peace; they always have. But, after a week of nothing but waves, I’m going stir crazy.

Don’t get me wrong, these sugar sand beaches of the Alabama coast are stunning, but I want to do anything else, like go to a salon or explore the neighboring towns. Rhys has to be going crazy as well. It can’t only be us girls going nuts.

“Rhys?” I ask.

“Hm?”

“If I find a decent salon nearby, will you take us?”

“Yes, please,” Av seconds from her lounge chair beside me.

Tossing his book into the sand, he flicks his sunglasses up and glares at me, as if my suggestion is an awful one. Pfft, whatever.

“I guess it’d be okay,” he concedes.

“Wahoo! Let’s get to researching, Tess—we have appointments to make. I need my hair trimmed desperately.”

“I’m thinking about dying mine, maybe adding some blue lowlights,” I say.

“Blue? Yeah, you should totally do it. It’d look amazing on you with your coloring and eyes. I bet it’d make Brant go insane when he sees you.”

“He does seem to like my hair,” I mutter. He’s always finding ways to play with it, like when we’re cuddling on the couch and he runs his fingers through my tresses. I love it. It’s so relaxing after a long day at the store.

“Yeah, I think I may do it, either blue or a violet blue hue. I think either would look amazing with my black hair, and they’d both play up my eyes. I just feel…blah lately. Maybe changing my hair a bit will help.”

It’s a hard feeling to describe. I’ve had it since the day before Ace left to go back to San Diego. I’d say it’s dread, but I don’t think it’s quite as heavy as dread can be. It could purely be because he left. The quicker this whole thing is done, the sooner my life will be back on track—a slightly more curved track than before, but I’m pretty damn good at handling curves. Maybe I wasn’t in the beginning because I didn’t want to fall in love ever again, but he’s always brought me peace, even when we were fighting.

The long roads of our pasts have led us exactly where we’re meant to be.

Together.

We find a salon in a neighboring town, and luck is on our side when we’re able to make appointments for today.

“It’s in the town of Fairhope, maybe a thirty-minute drive. Since our appointments start at 2:00, we should leave around 1 to be safe,” I inform Rhys. “Maybe we’ll find a nice local joint to eat dinner at.”

It’d be better than another night stuck inside. I’m sick of watching Arrow and—gasp—The Vampire Diaries. A girl can only take so much Damon before getting bored. Turns out a constant week of both shows is my limit. I can’t look at Damon’s eyes without picturing Ace’s, which leads me to thinking about our first time having sex, and it snowballs from there. Before I know it, I’m excusing myself to go release some steam in the shower. It’s a never-ending cycle.

“If we find a place and it’s safe, we can eat out, sure,” Rhys says.

“Yes. I’m tired of cooking,” Av pipes up.

“You’ve cooked twice since we’ve been here,” I argue. “I’ve been doing the majority of kitchen duty. I’m surprised you two haven’t complained of food poisoning by now, especially since the disaster forever known as ‘hell fish night’.” Shivering at the thought, I change the subject. “What are you having done, Av? Just a trim?”

“Maybe I’ll indulge by getting a manicure or pedicure once we’re there. Otherwise, yeah, just a trim. I’ve never colored my hair—not like I could now, what with my pregnancy—but Rhys would kill me. He likes my hair too much. Believe me, getting it cut is enough of a battle. The big goof.” Her jabs are playful and make me miss Ace more.

“Dibs on the shower,” I say as I get up and jog toward the house. A note on the kitchen counter causes me to stop short. What the…? It wasn’t there when we went outside, and none of us has gone back inside yet; there wasn’t a reason to. Only one person knows where we are, and even he doesn’t know the exact address.

“Rhys?” I yell out the screen door, the panic evident in my voice.

He comes running, Av waddling as fast as she can behind him. They’re both through the door within seconds. Wow, for a pregnant woman, Av can book it.

“What is it?” Rhys asks.

Pointing over to the counter, I ask if either of them noticed the note before going outside. “It wasn’t there, at least not to my knowledge. I panicked and yelled for you straight away. I have no idea what it says.”

It could be nothing…or it could be everything.

Av walks over to me and wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into her for a side hug. “We don’t know what it is yet, but whatever it is, we’re here with you, always,” she says comfortingly.

Rhys grabs the note and reads it aloud.

He didn’t sign it, but he didn’t have to. I know who it’s from: Mick. He’s the only one who calls me Theresa. How in the hell did he manage to find me in Alabama? We’ve been smart. Our phones are off and left in Michigan. We’ve used burners for any communication. We used my iPad for internet, but the location has never been turned on. The damn thing is registered to Threads & Trends anyway, not to me.

“H-How?” I ask. “It’s not po-possible.” My voice is shaky, as are my legs.

Rhys springs into action, grabbing a burner and calling Brant.

Great, this is exactly how I pictured spending our Sunday—gripped in fear.

“Av, he’s going to kill me. It’s the only way he can hurt me more than he ever has before. He’s going to kill me. You’re not safe. No one is.”

Without thinking, I run into the guest room and begin gathering my things. We have to leave, at least I do. I could flee to Mexico. Shit, no I can’t—my passport is at home. Maybe I could fly to a large city, get lost in the crowd. New York may work. My mind is on overdrive and I’m thinking like a crazy person, I know this, but I can’t stop myself. I try to recall how much is in my savings; I think I could live on the run for at least two years, if need be.

“Tess?” Rhys’s voice breaks through my scattered thoughts.

Turning, I look at him, but I don’t speak.

“Don’t panic. Brant gave me some intel on your ex, and we’re moving somewhere more secure. I’m sorry it means you’ll have to cancel on your girls’ day, but we better get going.”

“You think I care about getting my hair done?” I screech. “Fuck no. I’d rather take off alone and have you two safely away from me. In case you missed it, Av’s pregnant, and I’ve put her in more danger. She’s suffered enough in her life, as have you. It’s safer for you if we go our separate ways.”

Don’t they see? Being near me is toxic.

“I’m not leaving you. You’re family. Stop acting ridiculous and be ready in five,” he says as he walks away, like his word is final. I can still leave without them. I know where the keys to the truck are. To keep them safe, I’ll do anything, including running on my own.

Grabbing my suitcase, I run for the front door, grabbing the truck keys off the table in the entryway before opening the front door and sprinting to the truck. I don’t breathe until I’m backed out of the driveway and have the truck in drive.

I will keep them safe.

No matter the cost.