His Brother's Wife by Michelle Love (2)

He turned to Enda, who was still trying to call Ama. “Inca was stabbed. It’s bad, Enda. It’s so bad …god … I have to go. Get to Ama, now. This is Jackson. I know it.”

 

Enda drove like a madman back to the villa, still unable to reach Ama on the phone. As the car screeched to a halt outside, he could see his security team in disarray, and it was only when Ama flew out of the house and into his arms, obviously healthy and apparently safe, that he could breathe again.

But Ama was hysterical, and he couldn’t understand what she was saying at first.

“Baby, calm down. Tell me. Calm down …”

“He has her, Enda …he has my sister …”

Oh god …Selima …Enda was staggered at the scope of Jackson’s revenge plan. First Inca, now Selima.

“What does he want?”

Ama looked like she was about to pass out. “Me. He told me he will kill her unless I go to him.”

“No …no …not going to happen.”

“Enda, I don’t have a choice. Do you honestly think he won’t go through with it if I don’t?”

Enda closed his eyes and thought about Inca. No …Jackson would happily kill Selima.

Just like he would, without a doubt, murder Ama the moment she went to him.

 

There were no happy endings here …

 

Ama sat on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, her head in her hands. Thankfully, the nausea that had attacked her so suddenly in the night had passed. Enda tilted her head up gently and pressed a cold flannel to her burning forehead. Her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep and crying, but Enda was concerned about the utter despair in them.

Jackson had taken Selima and had ordered a hit on Inca, who was fighting for her life in a local hospital after two of Jackson’s men had brutally stabbed her and left her for dead.

Raff’s voice on the phone had sounded like it coming from the grave. “They’re still operating …they said she’d been stabbed nine times …oh god …I thought that part of our lives was over. I don’t know if she’ll make it, Enda. I really don’t.” He sounded broken.

She’s going to die … Enda pushed the thought away. Come on, Inks …you can survive this …you must.

When he’d told Ama about Inca, just after she’d had the news that Selima was abducted, she’d collapsed, screaming and sobbing great, wrenching sobs. Enda knew she blamed herself, but now he was more concerned by her silence than her screams.

The police had told them to sit tight while they contacted Olivier, and an hour later, Olivier had called them.

“He’s obviously been planning this for months,” Olivier said, sounding as desolate as they did. “He emptied his accounts and sold most of the stuff from the house. When they went there tonight, it was on fire. It was gutted …the house is gone, man. All dad’s stuff. Enda, he’s got unlimited funds. He can hide anywhere in the world and he won’t stop until Ama’s in his grip.”

“Not going to happen,” Enda said grimly. “He’ll kill her the minute she goes to him.”

“Agreed. Look, my suggestion is to stay there. It’s too dangerous here, even though I don’t think Jackson is even in the States anymore. He’s gone underground. Someone, somewhere surely will have to see him sometime, right? I’ve already sent out a team to scour California.”

Enda sighed. “Good. I’ll do the same here. Listen, Tommaso Winter said the same thing. We need to cover the globe. He spoke to Raffaelo—you can imagine what he said.”

“How is Inca?” Olivier’s voice was soft; he loved Inca as much as the rest of them.

“Not good, brother. Not good at all. God, poor Raff.”

“What is this, now? The fourth or fifth attempt on her life? That’s way too much for any lifetime.”

Enda tried not to let the tears in his eyes fall. He pinched them shut with his fingers. “Let’s hope we can still say it was only an attempt when this is all over. Raff won’t survive if Inca dies.”

There was a heavy silence on the other end of the phone. “Enda …when we find Jackson,” Olivier hesitated, then sighed. “You know what I’m going to say.”

“Yes,” said Enda in a hard voice. “And to answer you …yes. I want that fucker dead. I know he’s your brother, but …”

“He’s no brother of mine,” Olivier said. “Live or die …he’s dead to me now.”

Enda heard the heartbreak in Olivier’s voice and felt the weight of responsibility. His older brother had always been the peacemaker—the steadying hand. Enda hated that he was alone in San Francisco, dealing with all this. “Come to Italy,” he urged. “Be with us.”

Oliver gave a short, sad laugh. “Believe me, I’d like nothing better …but someone needs to be here. Besides, Selima’s boyfriend could still give us some information.”

Chase, Selima’s boyfriend of a few weeks, had been shot and critically wounded when Selima was abducted. He had been trying to defend his girlfriend and took a bullet to the chest.

“Fuck,” said Enda, “What a mess.”

Olivier sighed. “Yeah …and right now, I just don’t see how it could get any worse.”

 

A week later and nothing had changed. Ama stared out of the window at the heavy security around their villa and felt like a prisoner. Not just here in Italy—but of Jackson’s. He hadn’t contacted her again after that first call, when he’d sounded so triumphant.

“I told you there would be no limit to what I could do if you defied me, Amalia …now say hello to your little sister.”

Selima’s sobs—her cries of pain—as Jackson obviously inflicted harm on her, wherever he was holding her. Ama had screamed at Jackson, but he’d merely laughed and told her to wait for his next call.

A week. Doing God knows what to Selima …fuck.

She went to look for Enda, who was in his office with Tommaso Winter and their respective chiefs of security.

She nodded at Tommaso. He looked desolate. Inca was in a coma, still hovering on the brink of life, and Ama knew Tommaso was trying to keep it together and support his brother as Inca fought to recover. Tommaso smiled at her, his eyes tired and heavy. Ama touched Enda’s arm.

“Baby, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Enda nodded and followed her out of the room. She led him into their bedroom and closed the door. Enda opened his arms, and she went into them. He kissed her tenderly. “Are you okay, Piccolo?”

She shook her head. “No. I just needed alone time with you. I can’t bear all this worry and sadness. I think I’m going mad.”

Enda sighed and hugged her tightly to him. “I know.”

Ama tilted her head up to kiss him again. “Let’s just make the world go away for a few minutes.”

“You sure?”

She nodded and his fingers pulled at the belt of her wrap dress. Pushing back the fabric and letting the dress fall to the floor, he kept his hands gentle on her skin as he lay her down on the bed. He pulled her panties down and found her wet for him already. “Don’t wait,” she whispered.

Enda stripped quickly and lay on top of her. “No matter what …I love you,” he said softly, and she nodded, tears in her eyes, as his cock pushed into her.

They made love slowly, rocking gently as his thrusts grew more intense. They gazed at each other, as if drinking each other in, and both their orgasms were mellow, shivering things. When she came, all her suppressed emotion flooded to the surface and Ama began to cry hot, silent tears.

She cried herself out in Enda’s arms, and finally, thankfully, fell asleep.

 

Raffaelo stroked the hair away from his wife’s face. “Her color is a little better.”

Bo Kennedy, his brother’s partner, couldn’t see any improvement. It made her sick to see Inca so still and pale. Her usually glowing honey skin was yellow and gray, tubes stuck in her arms, and the breathing apparatus filled her throat. Jesus …how the hell had this happened? Why? Some sick psycho’s way of getting revenge on his wife was to kill her friend?

Bo sat down heavily in the chair opposite Raffaelo and took Inca’s cold hand. She couldn’t die …could she? Not after everything she’d gone through to get to the happy life she had with Raffaelo.

“Whoever this Jackson Gallo wanker is, I’d like to kill him. What a fucking coward. Send two men to kill a defenseless woman? For what? Spite. Fucker.”

Raffaelo, his green eyes heavy and exhausted, nodded. “I know …that’s what gets me …the sheer spite of it. Inca had nothing to do with Ama’s decision to leave Jackson.” He smiled briefly. “Although, Inca did knee him in the balls.”

Bo half-smiled. “Still …deciding to have her killed for that?”

“Sadly, Jackson is that vengeful and that psychotic. He only went after the women. Idiot thinks they’re the weaker sex.”

Bo was incensed. “Yeah? Then come at me, bro, I’ll show you different.”

Inca gave a low moan and they both sat up. Raff leaned over his wife as Bo pressed the button for the nurse. “Inca? Cara mia? I’m here. Please, open your eyes. Wake up, baby. I love you, please …”

He was rambling, and Bo was saddened by the desperation in his voice. The nurse came in and looked at them questioningly. Bo suddenly felt stupid.

“She moaned …we, um, we thought maybe she was waking up.”

The nurse smiled at her sympathetically. “Let’s hope. Excuse me, sir. I just want to check Mrs. Winter.”

Raff moved, looking discombobulated. “Of course, sorry.”

She patted his arm warmly. “Let’s just hope,” she said again. She took a small flashlight from her pocket and checked Inca’s eyes, then checked the machines keeping her alive, and her blood pressure. “Okay, well, I’ll just get the doctor and we can make a determination.”

 

Raffaelo and Bo waited impatiently for the doctor to complete his examination. Raff stared at Inca’s hand. He was sure her fingers had briefly squeezed his as he held them, but he was so dog-tired and grief-stricken that he told himself he might have been hallucinating.

The doctor stepped back and smiled at them both. “Mrs. Winter does appear to be coming out of her coma.”

The relief hit Raff like a sledgehammer and he gave a low gasp of release. Bo went to him and held him up. The doctor patted his shoulder.

“Now, listen, this is very good news—very good news, but, Mr. Winter, your wife has a long way to go. A long way. Her injuries …remember, we had to remove her kidney and her liver was lacerated. There’s still a high risk of infection. The hysterectomy will have taken a toll too. So, long haul. But this is a great positive step forward.” He smiled kindly at Raff, who couldn’t stop the tears from flooding down his cheeks. “Now, the thing to remember is that it could take days or even weeks, for Inca to emerge fully from the coma. So, be patient. I’ll come back later and run some more tests.”

Bo hugged Raff to her. “This is good news, bro. Good, good news.”

Raff nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He smiled at her and extracted himself to go and sit by Inca.

“I’ll go call Tommaso,” Bo said softly, “Tell them all the good news.”

Raffaelo nodded, his entire focus on Inca now. When they were alone, he leaned over and kissed the side of her mouth, next to the breathing tube. “Amore mia,” he said, his voice breaking. “Please come back to me. I don’t know how to live in a world without you. Fight, Inca, my beautiful Inca. You’ve done this before. Fight. Fight to come back to me.”

He picked up her hand and brought it to his mouth. God, when she awoke …he would have to tell her that she had been targeted yet again by a psychopath and that there had been no good reason, other than malevolence, behind her stabbing. That they’d had to fight to save her life for hours in the operating theater.

That the baby she hadn’t known they could have, and that she had been carrying for a month, had been murdered in her womb. Their child. Their only child. They’d told them years ago that she wouldn’t be able to carry a baby to full-term, even if she could conceive it, to begin with. And that now, they would never get the chance to try again. The killer’s knife had sliced through her womb and they had to remove it. Inca would never be pregnant again.

Mio Dio …Raff closed his eyes and fought against the scream in his throat. Never again. He didn’t care if he had to keep her in a fortress. No one would ever touch her again—never hurt her again.

And he, Raffaelo, would never fail her again.

 

Ama woke in the late evening, as she heard raised voices somewhere in the villa. She pulled a t-shirt and a pair of jeans on and went to find out what was going on. She pushed her way into the kitchen and saw Enda arguing furiously with someone. When she shifted position, she saw him and gasped.

Her father had come to Italy. He saw her and rounded on her, his face a mask of rage. “You. This is your fault. My daughter is abducted and I find out about it on the news? This is your doing, Amalia, and …”

He never finished the sentence, as an incensed and raging Enda punched him out.

 

Her uncle, her beloved Omar, who had come with Gajendra to Italy, put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. “Your father will calm down, Amalia. Give him time.”

Exhausted, Ama leaned against him. “I don’t want him here, Omar, but I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you. I just wish …god, Omar. She’s been gone a week. Who knows what horrors he’s putting her through.” She lowered her voice. “Omar …I don’t want Enda to know this, but if Jackson will swap me for her, I’ll do it. I’ll do it right now.”

Her uncle looked pained. “Sweetheart, let’s not even consider that as an option yet. Or at all. We’ll get Selima back. I have spoken to Olivier Gallo, and now to your Enda and his friend. Between us, we can cover the globe to find your sister. And we will.”

Amalia rubbed her eyes. “Dads right about one thing—this is my fault. All of it. Selima, Christina …Inca. God.” She felt sick.

Omar tightened his arm around her and spoke in a low, fierce voice. “This is not your fault. Your father is lashing out because he feels the guilt keenly. The guilt for using his daughters to save his business, when he could have come to me. His pride put you both in harm’s way. He knows that marrying you to Jackson Gallo was the catalyst. He fed Jackson’s obsession and sense of entitlement.”

Ama heard his words, but could not shake the guilt anyway. “Omar, could you take dad back to the hotel? I need some time with Enda.”

Omar kissed her cheek. “Of course, darling. I will be just a phone call away if you need me.”

 

Enda looked tired, but when she joined him in the kitchen, he kissed her and smiled at her. “Inca’s coming out of her coma,” he told her, and Ama felt her heart lift.

“Really?”

“Tommaso just called. She’s still critical, but it’s a good step forward.”

Ama slumped against him. “Some good news, at last.” She felt like crying, but this time for good reasons. Could this be the tide turning?

“Have they found anything out about Selima’s whereabouts?”

Enda hesitated, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, baby. Chase is still unconscious, and the California team has had no luck. Look, we have the house to ourselves tonight. Just for one-night …let’s try and relax and spend some time together. I know it will be difficult, but I’m worried that if we—and I mean you, Piccolo—keep this level of stress up, we’ll make bad decisions. Forget why we did this.”

Ama was silent, considering his proposal. Could she relax, knowing what was happening to her sister? Even if it wasn’t happening—and she didn’t think there was any chance of that—she still had the visions of what Jackson could do to her sister.

But she looked up into the eyes of the man she had sacrificed everything for and knew she would make the same decision over and over again. Enda was right. They needed to reconnect properly, remember that they were in this together, and that there were more people on their side than on Jackson’s.

She nodded up at him. “Yes, okay …for tonight …me and you.”

“Good.” He kissed her forehead. “Let’s start by getting some proper food into you. You haven’t eaten for days.”

They cooked a meal together, a hot and spicy curry that they washed down with a cold beer each, then sat watching TV. Ama couldn’t help her mind drifting to her sister, and at ten p.m., Enda looked around at her, studied her expression, and sighed. “Miss Rai …I think I need to distract you more …” He stood up and pulled her to her feet. He nuzzled his nose to hers before pressing his lips against hers. “The house is empty except for us. We’re totally alone …listen how quiet the night is.”

He led her to the window and pushed open the shutters. The stone window sill was wide enough for them both to sit on. “Look at that,” Enda said softly. The moon was full over the Bay of Naples, Vesuvius casting a long shadow. The cities of Naples and Sorrento lay beneath them. The lights of the fishing boats bobbed out at sea, the soft glow from the cities’ streets. “There is only one thing I consider more beautiful than this view,” Enda said in his low, growly accent, “And that is you, Piccolo. You are the love of my life and the reason for my being. There is absolutely no way I would give you up for anything. I know what you think—that you hold Selima’s life in your hands. You don’t. But you hold mine, and I hold yours. There is no you and me. There is only us. And we, together, will fight this and we will win.”

Ama had tears in her eyes and they spilled down her cheeks as he finished speaking. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t tell this wonderful man just how much she loved him. Instead, she kissed him, her mouth hungry against his. He pulled her onto his lap and began to peel her dress from her shoulders until he could dip his head and take her nipple into his mouth. Ama sighed and closed her eyes, not caring if any of the security guards patrolling their grounds could see them. This is what matters, she thought. Love. Enda picked her up and carried her to the couch, pushing up her skirt and snagging his fingers in her panties to pull them off. Ama pulled her dress over her head and then helped him strip, running her hands over his broad shoulders, wide, muscled chest, and flat stomach. He covered her body with his, seeking her lips.

“Ama …” he murmured, in the way that always made her weak, and as she curled her legs around his hips, feeling his erection nudging at her, she opened up to take him in as deep as she could, wanting and needing that connection.

Enda moved in slow, measured strokes, kissing her, murmuring her name over and over, and sending thrills through her entire being. Ama gazed up into his green eyes and wondered how she had ever existed without this man. She could believe him, in moments like this, that everything would be okay—that everything would turn out right.

He was so controlled that her orgasm built and built, and every time she thought she would reach her peak, Enda would hold back, until she was quivering mass of anticipation. When her orgasm hit, it made her mind whirl, her skin vibrate, and all she could see was him, smiling down at her, groaning as he too came, his seed shooting deep into her belly.

“I love you. I love you,” she whispered, and he laughed softly.

“And I’m not even halfway done tonight …”

 

They made love until dawn began to spread its fingers across the sky, then fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. When they woke, Ama felt stronger than she had in days. Then, in the evening, the news came that Inca was awake.

 

Inca awoke sometime in the afternoon, and of course, it was in the five minutes that Raff, who had been at her side constantly, went to take a coffee break. Alone, Inca blinked, trying to get the smeary glaze from her eyes, moving her limbs, feeling the stiffness of her body, and the numbness that she recognized as morphine coursing through her system. It was a heavy dose too, she knew of old—from the last time she’d been stabbed. How the hell had it happened again? Here, in her beloved Naples, where all she had found was love. Had it been part of a robbery? Somehow, she couldn’t see it. It was personal. She remembered the man who had stabbed her so viciously …he had looked her in the eye as he plunged the knife into her. The expression she would never forget …enjoyment. He meant to kill her. Inca was sure of it. She wasn’t a random victim.

Could it have been Edgar Winter, her husband’s psychotic father who had tried to kill her twice before, just to make Raffaelo suffer? He was rotting away in prison now for his crimes, but he could have just as easily hired someone to do it. After all this time, though? It had been years that he had been incarcerated.

Inca moved, and then moaned in pain. Agony screeched through her body, but instead of upsetting her, it just made her angry. Who the hell were these people to decide whether she lives or died? Luna, Kevin, Knox, Edgar …two of them were dead; Kevin was, like Edgar, in jail. And now those two assholes in her beloved tea house …

The anger made adrenaline shoot through her body, and she struggled to sit up, ignoring the agonizing pain in her abdomen and gripping the breathing tube to rip it out.

Only the appearance of Bo stopped her from doing it. “Hey, hey, hey, hey …no, no, no, baby. Don’t do that.” Bo dropped the coffee she was holding and dashed to Inca’s side, holding her up with one strong arm and gently pushing her hands away from the tube. “Nurse! Somebody help me!”

Two nurses and a doctor came racing in, and between them, they managed to calm Inca down. She gestured furiously at the breathing tube. The doctor injected her with a sedative. “Mrs. Winter, if you calm down, I can do some checks, and if you’re breathing on your own, I’ll consider removing the tube. But you have to calm down for me …your abdomen is recovering from serious wounds and the resultant surgery. If you tear an artery, you will bleed out and die. Okay?”

Inca saw Bo wince. The other woman looked back at her and tried to smile. “Welcome back, gorgeous.” She kissed the back of Inca’s fingers, and Inca felt her tears on her skin. “Sweetie, while they look after you, I’m going to get Raff—he’s only getting some coffee. I’ll be right back.”

Inca nodded, the effects of the sedative kicking in. The doctor and nurses did their tests, but a few moments later, Inca could only see him – her Raffaelo. The look of relief and love on his face was overwhelming, and she thought, as she had done once before, that his smile was better than any painkiller they might give her.

 

Ama was nervous about walking into the hospital room and seeing her friend so hurt and brutalized. She had not been to see Inca when she was in a coma. Raff had wanted to limit Inca’s visitors because of the risk of infection, and Enda and he had agreed that it would be too hard on Ama.

Ama was convinced Raff blamed her for his wife’s stabbing, even though both Enda and Tommaso assured her nothing could be further from the truth. “He’s just gone into over-protective mode. Although, at this point, I wouldn’t say anything is too overprotective as far as Inca goes.” Tommaso had been almost as devastated by Inca’s attempted murder as Raff, and Ama remembered that he, Tommaso, had loved Inca first. She had hugged him. “I love her too,” she whispered to him, and he nodded, fighting back the tears.

She saw Raff first, and he came to her and wrapped his arms around her. “She’s just sleeping. The pain killers make her so tired.”

Ama walked in and tried not to give a cry of horror. Inca had lost a lot of weight. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her lovely face, even in sleep, was creased in pain.

Ama wobbled, and both Raff and Enda steadied her. Ama turned to Raff. “Is she going to be okay?”

Raff drew in a deep breath. “We hope so. It’ll be a long road to recovery—even longer than last time. We’ll get there. Do you want to sit with her for a while? She should wake up soon.”

Ama nodded. “How much does she know? I don’t want to upset her.”

“Everything. She asked to be told everything. It …god …she’s stronger than even I realized.”

Ama touched his face. “Raff, I’m so sorry about the baby.”

He half-smiled, but it was a strained thing. “The strange thing is …we had made our peace with not having kids. This seems like a cruel joke. As if being stabbed nine times by two men twice her size wasn’t bad enough.” His voice broke and he looked away. Enda gripped his shoulder.

“Come on, Raff. I’m buying you a strong coffee and something to eat. Cara mia, do you mind if we leave you two alone for a while?”

Ama shook her head. “I’ll be here with Inca. Take as long as you need.”

 

Inca woke less than ten minutes later, and Ama helped her sip from a cup of water. Inca smiled at her. “Hey, you. How are you? Is there any news?”

Ama bugged at her. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking if you’re okay?”

“Well,” Inca looked down at the heavy bandaging around her torso. “I’m going to say I’m all set.” She grinned, but then her smile faded. “And don’t even think you’re responsible for this. Raff told me that’s what you told Enda and it’s a bunch of crap. This is all Jackson Gallo. Asshole.”

‘Asshole’ was such an understatement when it came to describing Jackson that suddenly Ama got the giggles. Inca looked at her in surprise, then started to laugh too. “Oww, oww, don’t make me laugh. My stomach muscles are compromised. Oww!” But she dissolved into giggles too.

“I don’t know why I’m laughing,” Ama said, wiping her eyes, “You’re in here, my sister’s still missing, and Jackson …”

“Is still breathing,” Inca said, her smile fading. “Girl, if you can wait until I’m mobile, I say you and me go Black Ops on his ass.”

“From your lips to God’s ear, Inks. But seriously now, I am so sorry you got dragged into this. I can’t imagine what it was like.”

Inca winced a little as she shifted in the bed. “Personal. That’s the word I keep coming back to. The man who stabbed me …it was personal for him. He enjoyed it. He got off on sticking that knife in my belly. Jackson’s surrounded himself with men like him. Psychotic, sociopathic, and devoid of empathy. They like to kill, and they like to kill women.”

Ama dropped her head in her hands and moaned. “Inks…I can’t sit around waiting for Jackson to kill Selima. I know the men are doing everything their money will allow. It’s not enough.”

Inca was studying her. “Now I know you’re not thinking about going to Jackson?”

Ama met her gaze. “If it was a choice between you and Raffaelo …what would you do?”

“Jesus, Ama …you can’t ask me that. Goddamn it.” Inca’s voice broke. “I wish you hadn’t told me. Please, darling, I’m begging you. Don’t give in to him.”

Ama shook her head. “No, you misunderstand me. I have no intention of giving into him. I’m going to kill him.”

 

Ama was quiet on the way back to the villa that night, and when they got home, Enda sent the staff home and they went to their bedroom. Enda sat on the bed. “What’s going on in that mind?” he asked gently.

Ama sat next to him, brushing her fingers through his hair. “Enda …I think we need to go back to San Francisco.”

Enda looked at her, and she could see the conflict in her mind. Finally, he sighed. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. We’re not getting anywhere here. It’s just …the thought of you being in his sightline.”

“We don’t know he’s there, but I guarantee he’ll be watching. We go back. I go back to work as if nothing’s changed. We—you and I—will be visible in society. We goad him into contacting me again. We make a deal. Me for Seli—“

“No way. That’s not’s going to happen, cara mia,” Enda got up and paced the room. “I agree we should be there, but if you think we’re going to use you as bait.”

Ama sighed. “I think it’s too late to consider anything else, baby. I am his bait. I’m what he wants. We’ve established he could be anywhere in the world, which means I’m already in his sights. He knows we’re here. That’s why he sent men to kill Inca. He wanted me to know he is always close.”

Enda looked unhappy and was silent for a long time, looking out of the window. Finally, he returned to her side. “Fine. But the level of personal security you’re getting will be insane, okay? Please. I know you hate the intrusion, but this is your life we’re talking about. Until Jackson is …put out of action …you’ll have to promise me.”

Ama nodded slowly and met his gaze. “I promise, Enda. I do. But we’re getting Selima back alive.”

He pressed his lips to hers and she kissed him back, almost urgently. “Take me to bed, Enda, and fuck me hard.”

She felt his lips curl up in a smile. “That’s my girl.”

He pushed her back on the bed and began to unbutton her dress, taking the time to kiss every inch of skin he uncovered. Ama sighed, giving into the sensations he was sending through her. When his mouth found her sex, she shivered, and as his tongue lashed around her clit, she stroked his hair. “Baby, I want to taste you too.”

Enda grinned at her, then stepped back, stripped off, and climbed onto the bed so she could take him into her mouth while his tongue returned to tease her clit. His cock filled her mouth, the silky skin of the shaft soft against her exploring tongue, the underlying muscle growing more rigid. She moaned as Enda spread her legs wider and plunged his tongue deep into her cunt. His cock grew hard in her mouth as she teased the sensitive tip with her tongue, and she tasted the salty pre-cum. As they drove each other on, Enda came in her mouth, and she swallowed him down greedily. Almost frenzied in their lust, Enda moved to kiss her mouth, pushing her knees to her chest, and she clawed at his back as he slammed his cock into her, biting down on her shoulders and breasts. She screamed his name as he made her cum over and over, tangling her fingers in his dark curls and pulling hard. It was the most feral, uninhibited fuck they had ever had, and Ama felt strength and ferocity running hot through her veins.

As Enda Gallo, her love and her life, fucked her long and hard into the night, Amalia smiled to herself. Fuck you, Jackson. You’ll never take this away from me.

You’re going down, asshole.

 

San Francisco, a week later …

 

It was almost as if Ama expected Jackson to be waiting at the airport, Selima in one hand and a gun in the other. The nightmares plagued her. Selima crying, bruised, begging Ama not to do it. Jackson’s triumphant grin as he let Selima run to Enda, then shoved the muzzle of the gun against Ama’s belly and pulled the trigger.

She shivered. She knew it was ridiculous, but when they landed the private jet at the airport and stepped out into the California sunshine, she scanned the area looking for him. Instead, a dark-windowed town car pulled up, and Olivier—lovely, sweet Olivier got out. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to go down the steps. Olivier swept her up in a bear hug. “God, it’s good to see you, little one.”

Ama clung onto him. He looked tired and drawn. “I’m sorry we left you alone for so long with this, Olly.”

He held her tightly. “As long as you’re safe, that’s all I care about …and I bring positive news. Chase is out of his coma and talking. We think Selima is still in the state, but being hidden in an underground facility. After he was shot, Chase said he remained conscious long enough to hear Jackson say to take Selima to the ‘facility’ and that he “will join them in an hour.” The F.B.I. have gone over Jackson’s records with a fine-tooth comb. They have a few leads.”

Ama’s heart was in her throat. “God, really?”

Olivier grinned at her and his brother. “Really. Now let’s get you home.”

 

Jackson Gallo was informed that Ama and Enda were back in San Francisco less than half an hour later. He smiled smugly – Ama knew she was in a no-win position and Jackson banked on her doing everything to get her sister back alive.

He moved quickly through the corridors of the underground facility he had purchased after he had become engaged to Ama. He had it fitted out with comfortable rooms, hot water, heating, kitchens, and bathrooms; he knew that Amalia Rai did not want to marry him and he did not want to have to resort to the lengths he had with Penelope. After all, the goal was to sleep with Ama, not kill her—not at first—so if she had defied him, then he would have brought her here and kept her confined until he decided her punishment.

Now it had proved useful for her sister. Selima Rai wasn’t as spirited as her sister, but she still tried to attack him every time he went near her. Now she was handcuffed to the bed, and when Jackson went to taunt her, he made sure to stay out of her reach.

He opened the door to her room. Selima glared at him, but didn’t get up. Her hair hung in strands around her face. Jackson sighed. “For god’s sake, clean yourself up. You look terrible.”

“Fuck you, Jackson, I don’t have to look pretty for anyone, let alone the man who kidnapped me and killed my boyfriend.”

Jackson shrugged. “He got in the way. If you and your sister didn’t act like whores, none of this would be happening.”

Selima spat at him. “You’re pathetic.”

Jackson wiped his face. “And, yet, I seem to be holding all of the cards.”

“She won’t come back to you. I won’t permit it. Enda, Olivier …they won’t permit it. So, you might as well kill me now and cut your losses.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “You know, you could be grateful. There’s a cell in this building. A great, hard, cold concrete cell that you could be in. It’s only through my good graces that you’re keep fed, warmed, and in this luxury.” He gestured around the comfortable room with its four-poster bed and big-screen T.V. “Shut your mouth, enjoy what you’ve got here, and pray I don’t kill you the second Ama comes back to me.”

Selima went quiet then, and Jackson turned to go. Before he reached the door, she spoke up, her voice breaking.

“Are you going to kill Ama?”

He didn’t answer her.

 

Chase Caplan felt like a hole had been punched through his chest. Which, come to think of it, it had, he thought and grinned to himself. It took a lot to make Chase feel down, but being shot had come pretty close. After waking up from his coma, his first question had been “Is Selima okay?”

When he was told, she was still missing, he hadn’t hesitated in asking to talk to the police, and to Olivier. The doctors had wanted him to take it easy. He ignored them.

Today, he would meet Selima’s sister for the first time. He wondered how he would feel, seeing someone who resembled his lover so much. In the few weeks, he and Selima had been together, he had fallen hard for the tiny Indian-American woman. Every moment they were together was the most fun he’d ever had, and even though he was a salt-of-the-earth, straight-A, country boy, he found himself acting more spontaneously …recklessly? Had they been reckless the night Selima had been taken?

 

There had been a roof party at one of their friend’s apartments, and they had stayed late, Selima sitting on his lap as they shared a beach chair. The night had been sultry, lines of twinkle lights strung around the rooftop and soft music playing. Selima had snuggled into his big chest, and he had kissed the top of her head.

“Hey, beauty.”

“Hey, you.” She’d looked up at him as he kissed her mouth gently. Selima had sighed happily. “God, what a great night.”

“Not over yet.” He’d grinned at her meaningfully, and she’d laughed.

“You know,” she’d lowered her voice. “My place is only about four blocks from here …but there are a lot of dark alleyways we could take shortcuts through.”

He had gotten her meaning and chuckled. “Why, Ms. Rai, you’re tryin’ to ruin my reputation, huh?”

 

They had made their way home, ducking into alleyways to make out, and when they had reached the one nearest Selima’s apartment, she’d grinned up at him, leaning back against the wall and hitching up her skirt. “Come here, farm boy, and fuck me good.”

Chase had laughed, but gathered her to him, pressing her back against the wall and sliding her panties down her legs. Selima’s hands had been at his fly, freeing his engorged cock from his underwear. He’d thrust into her, and she’d given a half-shocked laugh at the force of him. They’d fucked silently against the wall, only pausing mid-way as an elderly man walked past the end of the alleyway, stopping to let his dog pee on a dumpster. Selima had started giggling, and Chase had to put his hand over her mouth to silence her.

 

Stumbling home afterward, neither of them had seen the men waiting for them. When one had stepped out of the shadows and grabbed Selima, Chase was on him immediately. Then the other guy had begun to pull him away, Selima screaming at them.

“Don’t hurt the girl.” He’d heard a clipped American accent, glanced around, and recognized Jackson Gall immediately. Jackson had smirked, holding Selima back as the men had whaled on Chase, and when one had knocked him to the ground, the other had pulled out a gun, and Chase had felt his chest explode. Selima had screamed as Chase realized he’d been shot and that he could no longer move his body. His head had whirled as he saw Selima pushed into a car. “Take her to the facility,” Jackson Gallo had instructed his men, “I’ll follow you in an hour.”

Chase had wanted to shout, to scream, to tell Selima he would save her, but he hadn’t been able to speak or move. His entire body had been cold—too cold. Gallo had leaned over him and smiled. “I really don’t care if you live or die, my friend, but if you live, tell Amalia this …her sister will suffer the same fate as Penelope and Inca unless she comes back to me. Tell her to wait for my call.”

Chase closed his eyes, and for once, let the despair take over him. Selima, I will do everything I can to find you. But he felt helpless.

An hour later, he felt the despair even more keenly when Selima’s sister walked into the room, took one look at him, and put her arms around him. Then, for only the third time in his twenty-six years on the planet, Chase Caplan cried.

 

Inca finished another book, then put it on the pile next to her bed. Her recovery was going well, but slowly—and she was bored. Raff, Tommaso, and Bo kept her company as much as they could, but Raffaelo was looking for the men who had tried to kill his beloved wife, as well as helping out Enda and Ama, and Bo and Tommaso had seven kids to try to juggle. Stella and a couple of other girls from the tea house had been in to see her, as well as some of her friends from Naples, but they treated her as if she were a fragile thing and Inca had had enough of it. She was pissed, almightily pissed, at being back in this situation.

When Raffaelo came in to see her, she had worked herself up into a temper. “I want out of here, Raff. Tonight. I’m not even on any drips or feeds or whatever anymore. I hate this. I hate being here.”

 

Raff let her rant away, holding her hand. The psych doctor had told him to expect this—to expect a kickback from not having processed the attack. Inca had told the police everything, then had not wanted to talk about it again. Neither had she wanted to discuss the baby. Raffaelo could see the heartbreak in her eyes, but she would not even contemplate what their lives would have been like if their child had been born. They had tested the dead embryo and discovered it was a girl, but Raffaelo had not told Inca that. She was particularly close to Tommaso and Bo’s only daughter, Hermione (named by their two oldest sons, who were Harry Potter mad), and Raff had caught her looking wistfully at the girl as she played with her brothers.

Damn it. Even his chest cramped up with despair as he thought about how close they had come to being parents. A little girl, he thought, who looked like her beautiful mother and maybe had my eyes.

But it wasn’t to be. Raff waited for Inca to rant herself out, then held her as she started to cry. He knew it was just frustration; Inca wasn’t someone who felt sorry for herself.

When she was just hiccupping, and looking embarrassed, he brushed his lips against hers, back and forth, until he felt her lips curve up in a smile. They knew each other so completely now and had perfect trust between them.

Inca drew away and touched his cheek. “Sorry, baby.”

“Don’t apologize. I love you, Principessa.”

She sighed and smiled. “As I love you. Give me some good news, darling.”

Raff grinned. “I can, actually. Selima’s boyfriend woke up and has given them some great information. They think Jackson has her somewhere in California.”

Inca’s eyes opened wide. “Wow, that is good news. Are you going to California, then?”

Raff was astonished. “Are you kidding me? I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Baby, you have three armed guards outside my hospital room at all times. No one is getting in here.”

Raff shook his head. “Inca, there’s no doubt in my mind that the men who stabbed you are still in Naples. They will have been told to watch us and possibly finish the job.” He swallowed hard and shook his head at that. “Finish the job if you survive. And you have. I’m not letting you out of my sight, Principessa. I will find them, and I will kill them. I promise you that.”

Inca took his hand, seeing his distress. “I love you, Raffaelo Winter.”

“Ti amo, Inca. Ti amo.”

 

Ama and Chase talked for hours, until she could see the young man was exhausted. He still protested when she told him he needed to rest. “I’ll come back tomorrow, if I may. Enda won’t let me go back to work just yet, until he puts all the protection he wants into place, so I’ll go crazy stuck at Olivier’s house alone.”

Chase nodded. “Please do. I’d like you to meet my family when they come visit me.”

Ama gingerly hugged him. “Selima has good taste in men.”

Chase laughed. “She’ll tell you what a doofus I am when she comes home.”

They smiled, but the hopelessness they both felt was palpable. Ama shook herself. “We’ll get her back, Chase, I promise.”

The young man’s eyes were serious. “Don’t promise that.”

Ama nodded. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t …but I will stop at nothing to get her home safely. Goodnight, Chase.”

“Night, Ama. See you tomorrow.”

 

Her protection detail—two huge, heavily armed men called Trevor and Dustin—drove her back to Olivier’s house. When she got home, only Enda was waiting for her. “Olivier’s had to go to New York for business overnight.”

Ama went into his arms. “God, I missed you today.”

Enda smiled and brushed his lips against hers. “And I missed you. Tell me what Chase said.” He led her to the sofa and Ama filled him in on everything Chase had told her. When she repeated Jackson’s threat about Penelope and Inca, Enda nodded slowly. “Interesting. So, does he think Inca is dead?”

“I don’t know. Raff kept the stabbing out of the papers for Inca’s protection. That’s all I know.”

“Hmm. I talked to Raff earlier. He’s convinced the men who attacked Inca are still in Naples. It wouldn’t be hard for them to find out she was alive …so how come they haven’t told Jackson that she survived?”

Ama considered this. “Maybe they don’t want him to be angry for their failing? Maybe he paid them in full to kill Inca, and because she survived, then maybe it means he’ll demand his money back?” She sighed heavily. “Maybe it’s because they want to finish the job.”

Enda nodded slowly. “Or maybe there’s a chink in the armor. Maybe after they stabbed Inca, they had a change of heart.”

Ama looked skeptical. “Doesn’t seem likely.”

“Unless Jackson got cheap and hired non-professionals. After all, a professional hitman would have—and I’m sorry to put this image in your head—made sure Inca was dead. He would have probably shot her in the head and left. These assholes enjoyed the close nature of the attack—stabbing her and watching her suffer. I’d say they were local criminals, and I’d also say … if we find them, we could get information out of them.”

“If Raff doesn’t kill them first.”

“If that, yes. I’ll talk to him.”

Ama smiled at her lover. “What would you do?”

Enda’s face was set. “They’d be dead the minute I found them. But that won’t help anyone.”

Ama stroked his face. “Enough now. I’m assuming, because you would have told me already, that there’s no news on Selima.”

“Right.”

Ama sighed. “Then, Enda Gallo, let’s go to bed. I need a distraction. I need to release this tension. My whole-body aches because of it, and I can see yours does too. Take me to bed.”

 

Enda’s hands slid under her dress and he pulled it over her head. His lips were against hers, then trailing down her neck to her full breasts. As he took her nipple into his mouth, his hands were pushing her panties down. Ama stepped out of them and shivered as he teased her nipple until it was hard. Doing the same to the other, his lips then moved down her stomach to her belly, his tongue rimming her navel.

“Enda …” Her voice was soft, and he stood as she unbuttoned his shirt and his pants. Her lips were soft and sweet on his and Enda felt a rush of adrenaline course through him. Both naked, they tumbled onto the bed, and Ama moved down his body until she could take his cock into her mouth. Tracing the tip of her tongue up the shaft, she teased his sensitive tip until she could taste the salty pre-cum. His cock was rock-hard and trembling under her touch, but before he could cum, he pulled her on top of him and impaled her, his long, thick shaft plunging deep into her velvety cunt. Ama gave a long moan of pleasure, and Enda had to hold back. His hand stroked her clit as she rode him, and he was transfixed by the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her.

“God, you’re beautiful, cara mia.” The low light in the room made her skin look golden. Her breasts were ripe and plump and her silky belly had that slight curve to it. Her dark hair tumbled in waves over her shoulders and her lovely face was flushed pink from her arousal. Ama began to move quicker as they became more aroused, and Enda’s cock swelled and became almost unbearably sensitive.

He came hard, his body jerking and bucking her under as he ejaculated deep inside her. Ama gave a cry of release and shuddered, her breath coming in short gasps as her orgasm rippled through her.

As they caught their breath, Enda pressed his lips to her forehead and Ama snuggled in close to him. They had no need for words.

 

Two days later, a nervous and trembling Ama returned to the Music Conservatory. As Trevor and Dustin drove her into the city, she realized she was more nervous about facing her colleagues and students than she was about any threat Jackson might be. She was glad that her best friend, Christina, would be there to support her today. Since her apartment had been broken into, Christina had been staying with her boyfriend and had reported no more threats or strange occurrences. When Ama thought about what had happened to Inca, she couldn’t help, but be utterly relieved that Jackson had left Christina alone. Enough people have been hurt, she thought now as the car pulled up to the school. Maybe today would be the day Jackson would realize she was back and get in touch. She knew it was a long shot that anything would happen the first day back. Jackson wouldn’t be so reckless. He would know the security measures Enda had put in place.

But Ama had no doubt that he would be watching. She pushed the thought away. Act normally, as if he wasn’t holding her beloved sister hostage. That will enrage him. Jackson wants the attention. All the things Enda told her went through her head again now.

Christina met her at the door and the two women hugged for a long moment. “Hey, girl.” Christina, her black hair pulled up into a chignon and her slender figure in jeans and t-shirt, smiled at her, but her eyes were worried. “Are you okay?”

Suddenly Ama felt like crying. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and Christina smiled, understanding. “Come on. Let’s get some of that atrocious coffee they serve in the cafeteria.”

 

A half hour later, she went up to her office. Christina had shown her around the two music rooms that were fire-damaged. “We were lucky someone spotted it before it spread too far, but it’s awkward these two being out of use for the time being.”

Enda had offered the school the money to repair the damage and would not take no for an answer. Ama felt bad though; it had another ‘fuck you’ from Jackson toward her.

In her office, Lena hugged her too. “So good to have you back, boss.”

Ama smiled. “Sorry to have abandoned you for so long. But I come bearing more news.”

Lena studied her. “You’re leaving for good, aren’t you?”

Ama nodded. “I am. I’m sorry, but I want to be with Enda, and I want to be in Italy. He and Raffaelo Winter are opening music schools across the world, and I’m going to help them.” She smiled. “So, if you feel like a change of pace or of country, we could always use superb administrators. But don’t tell the dean I said so. I’m already in trouble for giving notice.”

Lena nodded, but her eyes were sad. “I’ll miss you.”

Tears threatened again. “Don’t make me cry.” Ama smiled at her assistant. “Come on, boss me around for a bit. I’ll feel like I’m home then.”

Lena grinned. “Okay, well, there’s your email folder. Don’t even ask how many unread you have. I’ve tried to sort them into folders in order of importance, and I deleted all the spam, but still. Any marked private, I haven’t opened. I promise. They’re in a folder on your desktop.”

Ama sat down at her desk and flicked her work laptop on. She had left everything behind when she’d fled to Italy, including this old machine, and it took a while for the computer to boot up. She went to put a fresh pot of coffee on and noticed the fine layer of dust covering everything. With a note of sadness, she realized this place was a stranger to her, and she to it.

She had given the dean her notice—three months—and he had been sad, but understanding. Enda had already spoken to him about the extra security, telling him in confidence the situation with Ama and her sister. The Dean had been appalled, of course, and promised to do everything in his power to protect Ama.

Ama sat back down at her desk and clicked open the private email folder. Private messages from an ‘unknown’ addressee filled the screen. Ama swallowed, knowing they all had to be from Jackson. The first one was dated the night she left him, and it was a rambling, venom-filled email telling her she was a whore and that Enda was a bastard who was only romancing her to pay Jackson back. All vitriolic swill, but nothing Ama wouldn’t have expected. She almost deleted it, then paused. It was still evidence, wasn’t it? There were a few more angry rants around the same date, but then, for a period of some months, nothing. Then, the day Jackson had abducted Selima, the email started again. Ama clicked on the first one.

Time’s up.

With the short phrase was a photograph of the inside of Christina’s apartment, trashed, with the bloody messages scrawled across the walls. The second email was a photo of a small fire being set in the music rooms in the conservatory. So, that had been Jackson.

Ama didn’t want to think about what was included in the few emails left, but she made herself click on them in order.

She gave a squeak of distress. Chase Caplan lying on the sidewalk, blood spread across his t-shirt, his eyes closed. The moment Selima had gone missing.

The next email showed Selima chained to a bed, looking cowed, but thankfully not bruised. Ama studied the photo of her sister minutely, trying to see the expression in Selima’s eyes, then trying to place the bedroom. She shook her head, her chest hurting with the pain of knowing her sister was somewhere and she couldn’t get to her.

The next email took her breath away. A woman she didn’t know lay slumped in the front seat of a car, her dress soaked in blood, the hilt of a knife protruding from her stomach. Dark red stab wounds covered her torso. The woman’s soft caramel hair hung to her shoulders, her eyes were closed, and her pretty face still contorted with pain and horror, even in death.

Penelope. Oh, Jesus Christ, Oh, god, oh god … Ama felt nausea rise in her throat.

The last email she hesitated to open. When she did, she saw this one was a video file. From the screenshot at the start, she could see the outside of Inca’s teahouse in Naples and knew instantly what she would see. Ama closed her eyes. I don’t know if I can do this …

But maybe there would be some clue …

She hit the play button. Someone, obviously wearing a camera, walked into the cool, shaded lower floor of the tea house. Ama saw Inca cleaning up alone. God, she looked so happy and so beautiful in her little tea-dress. She smiled at the men with the cameras, and Ama heard her say “Hey, fellas, come on in. We have plenty of room. Upstairs or down. I’m Inca, so if you need anything just ask.”

Another man, who was with the cameraman, grabbed Inca so quickly it made Ama jump back from the screen. She saw him pull Inca’s arms behind her, then saw the confusion and fear in Inca’s lovely face. With increasing horror, Ama watched the cameraman pull out the knife and plunged it into Inca’s belly. Inca gasped in agony, and Ama gave a moan as she watched her friend being stabbed again and again. When he had finished, the men lay Inca on the floor of the tea house. The whole attack took less than fifteen seconds. The cameraman lingered over Inca’s prone body. She was conscious, her eyes confused, gasping for air and for life. The camera zoomed in on her wounds, the blood pooling around her. So much blood. She heard a voice speak gently, almost tenderly to the dying woman.

“Jackson Gallo sends his regards.” Ama gasped in horror as the man stabbed Inca one last time, leaving the knife on the floor next to her body. Then the video ended.

Ama didn’t even realize she was screaming until Trevor and Dustin burst into the room, and she collapsed to the ground, sobbing.

 

Raff watched the video over and over again, his heart shattering. Enda and his security team had told him about it, and Raff had demanded they send it to him immediately. Enda had cautioned him. “Brother …don’t watch it. Please. I can’t imagine anything worse than seeing the woman you love attacked like this. It’s horrific.”

“Inca had to live it. Live it, Enda, not just watch it. I have to do this; there maybe something, or someone I might recognize. You forget I know most people, good or bad, in Naples and Sorrento. This is my home. If they’re locals, I’ll know it.”

After failing to dissuade him, Enda sent the video over, and Raff had watched it. The first time, the shock of it had been ice in his veins. The pain on his beloved Inca’s face—the disbelief that this was happening to her again. The knife slicing through the white cotton of her dress, the deep claret red of her blood spreading across it. The absolute cruelty of the man who was stabbing her.

He watched it again and again, trying to get used to the horror of it. When he realized that would never happen, he took himself out of the role of husband and tried to focus as an investigator. When the man spoke at the end, Raff heard the accent of the region. Good. That was something he had been right about—they were local. In his old life, before Inca, Raff had opened nightclubs, and had enough underworld contacts that he could show this to them and hope against hope they would recognize someone. His contacts would know he wasn’t about to go to the police with that information. Raffaelo Winter had every intention of getting everything they knew about Jackson, and then, without hesitation, he would make them feel the pain they had inflicted on Inca tenfold.

 

Inca knew something was wrong when she woke after napping all afternoon. Her body felt heavy, almost as if it was waterlogged. Her belly screamed with pain, and she felt hot. Too hot for this air-conditioned room. She leaned over, reaching for the call button, then felt herself slip and roll. She slammed onto the floor with a moan and then all was darkness.

 

Ama woke in Enda’s arms as the phone rang loudly. Enda groaned and rolled over to answer it as Ama glanced at the clock. No news is good at three a.m., she thought and sat up. Enda was rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah? Oh, hey, Raff …what? Oh god …how? When? Jesus …what does the surgeon say?”

Ama’s heart caught in her throat. It had to be Inca …Jesus. Ama closed her eyes. Jackson, you fucking bastard. Why didn’t you just kill me?

She waited for him to finish the call. He looked shattered. “Inca was bleeding internally. They took her back into surgery four hours ago and they’re still operating. They can’t stop the bleeding. Raff is …well, you can guess.”

Ama dipped her head into her hands and gave a sob. “This is the end, Enda. I’ve had enough. We need to draw Jackson out. We need to end this.”

“I agree.” Enda wrapped his arms around her. “Call me selfish or call me a terrible friend, but I never want to have to make that call about you, Ama. And I’m terrified that you’ll do something stupidly selfless and get yourself killed.”

Ama cried silent tears. “What if he does that to Selima? I cannot live with that, Enda.”

“We’ll figure something out, baby.”

“How?”

But he didn’t have an answer for her.

 

Raff was waiting in the relatives’ room with Gajendra and Omar. His phone bleeped and he checked it, relieved at something to do. It was a message from one of his contacts.

Yes. I know these men. Call me back when you can. I hope your lovely Inca pulls through.

If Raff hadn’t been so gut-wrenchingly terrified right at that moment, he would have punched the air. Finally, a lead.

The surgeon, exhausted and tired, pushed his way into the room, and Raff tried not to see the blood on his scrubs. Inca’s blood. The doctor nodded at him.

“She’s stable. We found the bleed; we had thought her spleen hadn’t been damaged initially, but that was where the bleed was.”

“Will she be okay?” That was Omar; Raff was too relieved to speak.

The doctor hesitated. “We’ve stabilized her. That’s as much information I can confirm. I’m hopeful. Let’s say that. You can see her in the morning, Mr. Winter. Until then, I suggest you go home and get some rest.”

 

Raff, of course, went straight to the home of his contact, where he found out the names of the men who had attacked Inca and could finally see a way to fight for the woman he loved.

 

Enda put down the phone in frustration and Ama rubbed his back. “What is it?”

“I have to go to New York for the day. The business goes on, even if we’re out of action, and I can’t ask Raff to leave Inca’s bedside right now.”

Ama hugged him. “Of course you can’t. I have Trevor and Dustin, the silent twins. You go, baby. We can’t let this whole thing stop our lives entirely.”

Enda kissed her. “Have I told you I love you today?”

Ama grinned. “Well, no, but you certainly showed me. And, if you like, you can show me again before I go to work.” She lay back, still naked from the shower, and Enda grinned, covering her body with his and hitching her legs around his waist.

“Is that right, Bella?”

Ama grinned and sighed happily as she felt his cock begin to swell, pressing hard against her thigh. “Put that in me, Gallo.”

“Such a nag,” Enda chuckled and thrust his cock deep into her, making her gasp. In moments like these, Ama pretended that the rest of the world went away and that she and Enda were the only two people alive.

They made love slowly, until Enda brought her to a shattering orgasm. She was still glowing when she walked into her office an hour and a half later. Lena grinned at her.

“You look radiant, boss. Anything to do with that gorgeous man of yours?”

Ama grinned, but they were soon bogged down in work. Enda called her as he was about to catch his flight.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay? I’ll be back around ten tonight.”

Ama smiled down the phone. “Honestly, baby, I’m fine. We have a ton of work, so I might be working late myself.”

 

As it turned out, she was right. The paperwork involved in her handing over her classes to the new teacher which kept her busy all day, and she blinked up at Lena as she came into the office.

“Lena, go home. I got this.”

Lena shook her head. “Nah, you stay, I stay. I thought I might skip out and get some coffee for us and Trevor and Dustin. Maybe a sandwich?”

“God, that sounds good. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Lena grinned. “Not at all.”

Ama grabbed her purse. “At least let me give you some money.”

“Don’t worry about it. Be right back. Ham and turkey on rye, right?”

“You’re an angel.”

Lena gave her a strange smile, then left. Ama pondered her expression for a moment, then shrugged and went back to her work.

 

She was so absorbed in what she was doing, that when Lens brought the food and coffee back, she forgot about the drink until it was cold. She picked idly at the sandwich.

“Isn’t it good?”

She looked up to see Lena at the door. “No, it’s lovely, Lena. Sorry. I got distracted. Did you eat?”

Lena nodded. “I’ll put that coffee in a microwave if you like? Reheat it?”

Ama glanced at the cold coffee cup and wrinkled her nose. “No, it’s okay. It’s never the same. Sorry for forgetting about it.”

Lena shrugged. “It’s no problem.” She hesitated at the door and Ama smiled at her ruefully.

“Seriously, Lena, you should go home. I’m almost done here.”

“Then I’ll wait.” She went out of the door and Ama frowned. Lena was acting …weirdly? Was that the right word? Usually her younger friend would be out of the door as soon as office hours were over, ready to party all night with her friends. Ama didn’t know how she had the energy to do that and still be early for work every morning.

Ama stood and stretched her aching body. The two glass walls of her office, which looked over the conservatory’s atrium, reflected her own image back at her now that the atrium was in darkness.

A thump came from outside of her office, and she glanced around, expecting Lena to poke her head around the door and apologize for dropping something. Instead, she heard a muffled cry and darted to the door. Tugging it open, she saw a masked man grabbing Lena.

“Hey!” Anger and adrenaline rushed through Ama as she went to help her friend, wondering where the hell Trevor and Dustin were. She body-slammed the guy, who was twice her size, and he dropped Lena, but grabbed Ama and tackled her, shoving her back into her office.

Ama staggered back, and the man was on her, driving his fist into her stomach. Ama couldn’t get her breath and Lena attacked the man from behind as Ama tried to stand.

The man knocked Lena across her desk, and as Ama rushed at him, he grabbed her and slammed her down onto her desk.

Amalia kicked him hard in the balls and the man went down. Ama slid from the desk and ran to help Lena. She almost made it. As Lena screamed, Ama was grabbed from behind.

“No! Don’t hurt her!”

But her attacker threw Ama full-force through the plate glass window. The glass shattered and Ama slumped to the floor.

Pain. So much pain.

Her attacker rolled her over, and Amalia realized she had been impaled on a shard of glass which now protruded from her side. She felt faint. Her attacker gave what sounded like a laugh and yanked the glass out of her. More pain. But she couldn’t scream or move. Then she heard Lena screaming. “No! No! Don’t, please don’t. I did what you asked me to do!”

Ama gave a gasp, pushing herself up into a sitting position just as the man drew the lethal edge of the glass across Lena’s throat. Ama screamed at him.

“No!”

But it was too late. Lena’s throat split open and she clutched at it as it began to gush blood. She looked at Ama, her eyes huge with terror and sorrow. “I’m sorry,” she croaked, and then slumped to the ground, pumping red, hot blood onto the floor. Ama tried to move, but the pain of the wound in her side made her struggle and her attacker easily picked her up. As he threw her over his shoulder, she caught a glance of Trevor and Dustin slumped outside the office. Were they dead? There was no one else in the conservatory this late, no one to know she was being taken. She screamed and yelled, but then her assailant slammed her head against the wall and knocked her out.

 

The news broke as Enda was driving back from the airport and he nearly crashed the car. “No, no, please …”

All the radio report said was, “Murder at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music …two young women attacked. One has been confirmed dead. The other is missing …”

He knew instantly. Ama. Jackson had followed through on his threats. As he turned towards the conservatory, he strained to hear the radio through the roaring of blood in his ears. Please no …

His cell phone buzzed loudly and he pressed the hands-free. “Gallo.”

“Enda, it’s me.” Olivier. “Ama’s missing. Have you heard about the killing?”

“Yeah,” Enda said, relief flooding through him. Missing. Not dead. “Ama’s been taken?”

“Yeah. Jackson had someone on the inside, we think. Ama’s assistant. Ama’s security detail was drugged. They told us the assistant went out for coffee, as they were working late. The two bodyguards drank theirs, but they found Ama’s coffee cup still full. Look, where are you?”

“I’m on my way to the conservatory.”

“Don’t go there. Come home. The F.B.I. are all over the scene and you being there will complicate things. The security guys are being checked out in the hospital, but they’re coming here after. We’ll coordinate the search for Ama and Selima from here.”

Enda pulled the car over to the side of the road and stopped. He hesitated for a moment. “He’ll kill her, Olivier. He’ll kill them both.”

He heard Olivier sigh. “Not necessarily, Enda. Ama’s a smart girl. She’ll know to play up to his fantasies. To convince him she’s ready to be his. If he falls for that…who knows what Ama can make happen. We have to believe in her now.”

Enda nodded, closing his eyes. “I do. I believe in her. But I can’t stay here doing nothing.”

“I know. Come home, brother, and we’ll get on it tonight.”

 

Raff stroked his wife’s hair away from her face. Hours of surgery had saved her again, but it had drained her, and she had been sleeping on and off for a few days now, barely able to hold a conversation. A worried Raff asked the doctor about the possibility Inca may have suffered brain damage, but the doctor reassured him that wasn’t what was going on.

“She’s just exhausted, Raffaelo, and in my opinion, she’s probably rocking back from the assault. I’ve been worried that she hadn’t seemed to process what happened, and I think this is that. PTSD is common in victims of assault, and especially with Inca’s past, this doesn’t surprise me. She’ll rally, I promise. In the meantime, Psych will help her.”

Raffaelo had been relieved it was something they could handle together. It killed him that Inca had been targeted yet again; how much was one woman supposed to take?

Stella tapped him on the shoulder as she came to visit Inca. Raff smiled at her. “Thank you, Stella. It’s good of you to come.”

Stella nodded. “It’s my pleasure. Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”

Raff looked back at Inca. She was sound asleep again, her breathing regular. “I will, I think. Call me if you need anything.”

 

He was almost home before the call came. “Raff …I have them.”

Raff’s adrenaline spiked. It was his underworld contact. “Where?”

The contact named an abandoned warehouse outside the city. “You’re sure it’s them?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Raff’s jaw clenched. “I’ll be right there.”

As he drove out of the city, he tried to stay calm and remind himself that these men might have information that could help them find Ama and Selima. That he, Raff, could ruin everything by killing them. Because, right now, that’s all he wanted to do—rip the bastard who had stabbed his beloved Inca limb from limb with his bare hands and smash the brains of the man who had held her, making her helpless to resist.

You’re not helping yourself here, buddy. But he couldn’t help remember the terror in his wife’s eyes as these men tried to kill her.

When he reached the warehouse, he sat in his car for a few moments, trying to steady his nerves. Como, his contact, came out to see him. “Hey.”

Raff nodded. “Hey. Thanks for doing this.”

Como half-smiled. “This scum hurt your lovely girl. It’s my pleasure.”

Raff followed him into the warehouse. The two attackers were on their knees, bruised and bloodied. Como’s men had obviously beaten them. Raff didn’t care. His eyes fixed on the man who had knifed Inca so mercilessly. The man stared back and smirked.

“Well, if it isn’t the whore’s husband.”

Raff’s fist smashed into the man’s jaw a second later, his temper unleashed. He beat the man almost to unconsciousness before Como pulled him back. Como bent his mouth to Raff’s ear.

“My friend …stop now. Look at his accomplice …he’s scared. He’ll talk.”

Raff nursed his battered hand and stepped away from the coughing and breathless man on the floor. He looked at the accomplice, who turned wide, terrified eyes on him.

“Please,” said the man, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I helped him …I promise you, I thought he was going to torment her …I didn’t see the knife.”

Como made a disgusted noise. “Filthy liar.”

Raff took a step toward the man and he cringed backward. Como’s guard kicked him in the small of his back and he groaned. “I swear, friend, I didn’t know…”

“…Who paid you?” Raff said in a grim tone. “And don’t lie.”

“Jackson Gallo. That’s what he,” he jerked his head towards his injured companion, “told me. He told me Gallo said he needed a distraction so he could send a message to his ex-wife. We were supposed to go kidnap your lady. That’s what he told me …he told me to grab her and hold her arms behind her. He had a camera. Said Gallo wanted to see her scared. What he meant was …he wanted to see her die. When he stabbed her …I panicked. Thought if I did anything, he’d kill me too and take the money for himself. I’m sorry about her. I am.”

The man was jabbering now, and Raff felt pain shoot through him at his words. So, needless. So, cruel. He turned back to the stabber. “You. Talk, now. Anything. And I’ll think about sparing your life.”

The man spat blood on the ground. “I don’t know anything. Except what he just said. Gallo wanted her killed. Said it sent a message to not fuck with him. I asked him why he didn’t do it himself. He told me he couldn’t leave the States—that he was in ‘seclusion.' That’s the word he used.”

Raff chewed his lip. “Was this a phone call or video call?”

“Video.”

“You record it?”

The man shook his head. His nose was streaming blood. “No.”

Raff sighed in frustration. “Tell me about where he was calling from. The room. What was outside the windows? What was the room like?”

The man hesitated. “I got the impression it was …I mean, there were no windows that I could see and his voice sounded echoey. If I had to guess, I would say it was underground.”

Raff studied the man’s eyes. He had no reason to lie now; he faced almost certain death the minute Raffaelo gave the order. Even a hardened criminal like this man knew the only way to save himself was by helping them.

Raff turned away and walked back to Como. The other man leaned into him. “What do you want to be done with them?”

Raff didn’t answer, struggling with his morality, and Como saw this. “Raff, whatever you need …we’ll deal with it. There need not be any link to you. Let me deal with them.”

Raff bowed his head and rubbed his eyes. It would be so easy to just let Como kill them and deal with the bodies. But Raff knew of old how much the weight of responsibility would weigh on him. He’d had to kill before to save Inca’s life, and it hadn’t sat well with him, although he wouldn’t change a thing. Knox Westerwick had been stabbing Inca when Raff had killed him. This was a different situation.

He looked at Como. “No. They might know more. Give them to the police.”

“Are you sure?”

Raff nodded. “Very. Too much blood has been spilled already. They can go to jail.”

 

He knew he had made the right decision for himself, for Inca, and for Amalia. Any information was critical now, and as he drove back to the hospital, he called Enda and relayed the information he had discovered. A tired, shattered-sounding Enda thanked him.

“Is there any news, Enda? Anything?”

“Nothing as yet, Raff. But this will help …we know now they are in California somewhere. If your contact is right and they’re somewhere underground, it narrows things down, assuming there’s a record of it somewhere.”

Raff heard the desolation in his friend’s voice. “I’ve been there, Enda. I know what it’s like. We’ll find them, I promise.”

Enda gave a strangled sob. “God, I hope so … I don’t know what I’ll do if we don’t.”

 

Ama’s head was screaming with pain, and for a long moment, she debated whether or not to open her eyes at all. Her mind was fuzzy, her chest felt tight, and she became aware of her wrists being tied, plastic biting into the skin. Her mouth was tinder-dry, and she couldn’t get a sense of time or place.

She opened her eyes. There was a harsh strip light above her and it made her eyes water. She blinked rapidly, then saw him. Jackson.

“Hello, my darling.”

Ama struggled into a sitting position and saw she was in a cell-type room, with gray concrete walls and no windows. “Where’s my sister?”

Jackson smiled. “Safe. Her room is significantly more comfortable than this one. If you’re good, I’ll consider putting you together.”

Ama’s chest tightened even further. “You have me now, Jackson. Let her go. Please.” Everything inside her rebelled against begging him, but for Selima’s safety, she would do anything.

Jackson laughed. “Really? You think it’s that easy?”

He came to sit next to her. “Now, I’m going to untie you. If you try anything, my men will torture Selima before they kill her. Do you understand?”

Ama nodded and Jackson pulled out a knife. He cut the plastic ties and Ama rubbed her wrists in relief, eyeing the blade Jackson held. He saw her watching it and grinned. “Yep. I don’t even need to tell you that this will end up in your gorgeous body if you even think about escaping, do I?”

“What do you want from me, Jackson?”

He leaned over and crushed his lips against hers before answering her. “My wife. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

“So why keep Selima? Please, Jackson, I’ll do whatever you want. Just let her go.”

Jackson studied her. “Prove to me you can be a good, obedient wife and I’ll consider it. I promise you that. But you need to be my wife in every way, Ama. Every way. Do you understand?”

Ama closed her eyes and nodded. God, Enda …forgive me. She felt Jackson’s fingers unbuttoning her dress and felt the cold air on her bare skin as he undressed her. She took her mind out of the moment as he fixed his mouth on her breasts and her belly. Pretend it’s not him, she told herself over and over. She wanted to conjure a good memory of her and Enda, but then pushed that thought away. She didn’t want to forever link this rape—and that was what it was—to the glorious lovemaking she and Enda shared.

As Jackson pulled her legs around him and thrust into her, a tear slid down Ama’s face. If it weren't for Selima, she would have rather died than give in to the repellent man inside her now. Jackson fucked her, grunting and shouting her name so loudly, she wondered with a pang if, wherever Selima was, she heard it and knew what was happening.

That hurt the most. As Jackson finished, Ama could not help but burst into tears. Jackson grinned. “Yeah, cry all you want. Next time, I expect you to at least act like you enjoy it. If you do, I’ll take you to your sister, but, by god, Ama, you better give the performance of your life.”

 

Enda couldn’t sleep. He was staying with Olivier, and his brother did everything to help Enda feel positive and hopeful. But even though he adored Olivier, his brother couldn’t lift the black cloud that stayed with him at all times. Enda missed Ama—her presence, her voice, her laugh, and her scent. He hated that he woke up alone. Now, in the early morning hours, he lay on his back and looked over to ‘her’ side of the bed. He pictured her sleeping on her stomach, her eyes closed, the thick, dark lashes sweeping her cheeks. Her green eyes opening sleepily, but softening when she saw him.

“Hello, baby.”

He would lean over and brush his lips against hers, then make her laugh by rubbing his stubbly chin against hers. She would stretch that heavenly body as he moved across the bed, his cock already straining and engorged for her, and she would open her arms to him, her legs winding around his hips as he slid into her velvety, wet cunt. They would make love slowly, savoring every sensation that rippled through them both, not caring about morning breath, just gazing at each other. Love. Such pure love. As they became more excited and his thrusts became harder, faster, and deeper, he would hear her gasps for air. When she came, back arching, her belly against his, her head thrown back, her pink lips parted as she gave a moan of release.

Ama …

The sorrow inside him was crushing him, and Enda got out of bed and dressed. He couldn’t just sit here and wait for the police to show up and tell him they’d found her body. Even if Olivier was right and Ama knew how to manipulate Jackson, the thought of what she might have to do killed Enda.

He crept out of the house and got into his car. The police said the old Gallo mansion had been gutted in the fire; he was going to go there and see if he could find any clue, anything at all, left in the ashes of the place to tell him where Jackson was holding Ama.

 

“No! No! Don’t. Please don’t. I did what you asked me to do!”

Ama woke with a start. Lena …they’d killed her, but what had she meant by, ‘I did what you asked me to do?’ Was she in on the kidnapping? Ama felt sick, dashed to the little toilet in the corner of the room, and threw up and up until she collapsed, exhausted, onto the floor. For the first time, she noticed a small camera high in the corner of the room, trained on the bed. He was watching her. Ama’s skin began to crawl. How the hell was she going to escape him? More importantly, how was she going to protect Selima from him?

Ama winced now. The wound in her side from the glass at the conservatory had been patched up by whomever had brought her back to Jackson, but the dressing felt heavy. She eased it off and moaned. The wound had been stitched, but the skin around it looked angry and red. Infection. Fuck. If blood poisoning killed her, Jackson would have no reason to release Selima or even keep her alive. Ama knew, with a sinking heart, she would have to ask him for help. She stumbled over to where the camera was pointing and indicated her wound to it.

“It’s infected,” she said, not knowing if the room was bugged or if anyone could hear her. “I need antibiotics.”

She sat back down on the bed, feeling feverish and sick. Ten minutes later, the door unlocked, and Jackson entered, followed by a smaller, nervous-looking man.

“This is Dr. Harris,” Jackson said shortly. “He’s here to help you.”

Ama nodded and tried to smile at the doctor. “My wound is infected.”

Dr. Harris sighed and looked at Jackson. “I told you, Mr. Gallo. That wound is deep. I tried my best, but I’m not a surgeon. She needs to be in the hospital.”

Jackson’s face was blank. “Not going to happen. Dr. Harris, I assume you realize what will happen if Ama dies of this infection?”

The doctor looked sick, but nodded. “I will have to take some blood, though. I will try to get them processed quickly and anonymously. In the meantime, I’ll clean up the wound and give Mrs. Gallo some antibiotics.”

“You do that.”

While he worked, Ama looked at Jackson. It had been three days since that first time they had slept together, and Jackson had demanded sex multiple times a day ever since. Ama had tried to act as if she enjoyed it, while dying inside, and Jackson had responded. He’d brought her extra blankets and pillows, extra food and drink, and some books. She wondered if, now, she could ask for the thing she wanted most.

“Jackson …may I see my sister, please? Even for five minutes? I’ll …make you happy later.” She flushed scarlet as the doctor gave her a strange look, but Jackson nodded.

“Fine. Five minutes.”

She was locked up alone while Jackson took the doctor out, then he returned to her. He tied her hands behind her back. “Just in case you decided suicide is an option and try to attack me,” he said. “I’ll untie them when you’re with Selima. You can have an hour with her today, but I expect you to be ready for me with a smile on your face this evening. Understand?”

Ama nodded, nothing but the excitement at seeing her sister in her mind. Jackson led her through the corridors of the facility. Ama couldn’t see any windows anywhere and quickly realized they were underground. The thought made her miserable. How the hell was anyone supposed to find them?

As they walked, the corridors began to look more polished, and by the time they reached Selima’s room, they could have been in a four-star hotel. Jackson opened the door, and Selima turned, the shock on her face when she saw Ama obvious.

“Ama!” Selima burst into noisy tears as Jackson untied Ama’s hands and left the room. Both of the sisters heard the lock click, then they were in each other’s arms.

“I can’t believe he’s got you here,” Selima said. “What happened?”

“He had someone on the inside, I think. God, it’s good to see you, but I wish I weren't, if you know what I mean. How are you? Has Jackson …?”

She couldn’t get the words out, and Selima, seeing her distress, shook her head. “No. He hasn’t touched me, I promise.” She looked bleak. “He killed Chase, Ama. He killed my boyfriend.”

Ama shook her head. “No. Chase is alive, Selima. I swear. He’s in a bad way, yes, but he’s a fighter, and god, he loves you. He’s a great guy.”

Selima’s tears returned, and Ama hugged her while she cried with relief. “Oh, thank god. Thank god.”

Ama buried her own tears in Selima’s hair. “I’m so sorry, boo, about all of this. It’s my fault. I should never have married him …we could have found another way to get you away from that disgusting ex of yours.”

Selima sniffed back her tears and wiped her eyes. “You know that’s not true. He would have killed me rather than let me go if Omar’s men hadn’t made sure he couldn’t find me.”

“God,” Ama said, fierce now. “What the fuck is wrong with these men? We’re not objects to own, assholes!”

She yelled it out loud, and Selima smiled. “That’s more like it.” She sighed. “I’m glad Chase is okay. At least no one else got hurt.”

She must have seen something in Ama’s face, then, because she paled. “Who?”

Ama hesitated. “Inca. Jackson had her attacked. She almost didn’t make it.”

Selima looked sick. “Inca? Why the hell?”

Ama’s mouth hitched up in a small smile. “Jackson doesn’t like it when beautiful women piss him off and treat him like a child. He is that petty and that dangerous. He hired two men to stab Inca to death and it’s a miracle she survived …again.”

“She’s okay?”

“I wouldn’t say that, but she’s out of danger. I think, anyway. I’ve been here for three days and I’m not sure how long I was unconscious.”

She told Selima of the circumstances of her abduction, and then her confusion about Lena’s involvement. Selima listened with a grim expression on her face.

“That fucking bitch,” she spat. “I don’t think there’s any doubt, Ama. That two-faced …”

“They killed her, Selima,” Ama’s voice broke. “In front of me. He slashed her throat, and I saw her die. She’s been my assistant for years …I don’t know why she would have done this. Until I know the reason, I can’t condemn her …I just can’t.”

Selima hugged her sister tightly. “Right. I know. I’m sorry.” She sighed. “Look, it’s my own fault I’m here. Enda wanted me to have protection, but that night, I just wanted to be alone with Chase, so I gave them the slip. Stupidly. Chase was shot and I was taken. If I had just …”

“I think we can go round and round on what we both should have done, but the person to blame for all of this is Jackson.”

Selima studied her sister. “He’s making you sleep with him, isn’t he?”

Ama nodded. “It’s a small price to pay for your safety.”

Selima gagged and dashed into the small bathroom of her suite. Ama, nauseated too, followed her, looking around the small room. No windows. Ama was beginning to feel claustrophobic. “We’re underground, aren’t we?”

Selima nodded. “Yes.” She glanced up at the camera and mic above them, then grabbed Ama’s hand, leaning into hug her to hide what she was doing. She traced a word onto Ama’s palm, just like they had when they were young and keeping secrets from their parents.

Fresno.

Ama was shocked. God, they were so close to home … She opened her mouth to ask a question, but Selima shook her head. Right. They were being watched.

For the rest of the hour, they lay together on Selima’s bed and talked about neutral things …food and their uncle’s house in Hyderabad where they had spent many happy summers growing up. Ama didn’t talk about Italy, or Enda, or their life there. She picked up from Selima to keep all their discussion’s neutral and inoffensive. Maybe if Ama ‘behaved,' they would be allowed to stay together more often. Maybe even permanently. If they could spend the night together, when the lights were out they could communicate via their childish language and figure a way out.

 

Later, the guards took her back to a different suite, not too far from Selima’s, which was again like a hotel room. On the bed was a box containing a note, some expensive-looking lingerie, and a beautiful dark red evening dress. Ama read the note.

 

Bathe and change into these items. Tonight, we will dine in your new suite, and then you will show me how grateful you are. If you please me, we will talk about your living arrangements and those of your sister.

 

Ama wanted to cry. She closed her eyes and sat on the bed. Was this actually happening? Forced to have sex with a man and pretend it was all she wanted in exchange for the lives of those she loved. Really, how did Jackson expect all this to turn out? It was then she realized—or rather, acknowledged—what she already knew. She, Ama, wasn’t meant to get out of this alive. Jackson would make her subservient to him until he grew tired of her, and then he would kill her and move on to his next obsession.

In that case, she thought fiercely, I will make sure Selima gets home, and I will do anything to make that happen. And if I’m destined to die …I will make damn sure Jackson comes with me.

She went into the bathroom of the suite and ran the water into the tub. A selection of toiletries were lined up. She had to admit that, when she stepped into the warm water, it was a relief to be clean again. On the countertop were some packages of new underwear and fresh dressings for her wound.

She lay back in the water and let her mind drift to a happy memory. Back in their villa in Italy, their own tub was a vast iron antique that took a half hour to fill, but was the most comfortable she’d ever been in. She and Enda would soak there, kissing and talking as the evening moved into night. Often their lovemaking would begin in the tub.

 

The night she remembered what happened a few months back. Enda had been late home from work and Ama had been composing a new suite for her students to study when she returned to work. She had forgotten the time, and it was only when she looked up that she had realized it was past eight o’clock. As she always switched her phone off when composing, she’d checked her messages and realized she had missed a call from Enda. She’d called him back.

“Ciao, Bella.”

She’d grinned. “Hello, gorgeous. I’m sorry I missed your call. I was writing.”

“I thought you might be. Listen, I just called to say I’d be late and I wondered if I should pick up a pizza for dinner?”

“As long as we can eat it in bed.”

Enda had laughed. “That’s what I was hoping. God, what a day.”

“Good or bad?”

“Good, but busy. Raff and I might have a track on some investors who are interested in the music schools.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Ha,” Enda had chuckled, “Fun will be the building of the schools. This is the boring, but worthwhile part. How’s the writing going?”

“Okay …I’m not overly happy yet, but it’s getting there. Where are you now?”

“Outside Lucio’s,” he’d said, mentioning their favorite pizza place.

“Good, so you’re on your way home.”

“I’ll be there in a few, cara mia.”

 

She’d met him at the front door, wearing only one of his white shirts. He’d grinned as he’d carried the pizza inside, stopping to kiss her. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

“You bet you are.”

The pizza had gotten cold, while they were kissing, they’d tumbled to the floor, Ama stripping his jacket and tie off and Enda’s hands pushing his short from her beautiful bod. He’d pinned her down on the cold, hard tile of the lobby and taken her there, Ama screaming his name as his cock plowed into her, her hips burned as he pressed them further apart.

Afterward, they’d eaten pizza in bed and then soaked in the bath. It hadn’t been long until Ama, who had been laying back against Enda’s chest, turned and straddled him in the water, stroking his cock and then impaling herself on it. She’d gazed at her lover, his dark curls wet and sticking to his face, his smile and his green eyes so full of love for her. God, he was glorious.

“I want to marry you, Enda Gallo. Someday. When I’m free from Jackson and when all of this is over. No big ceremony. Just you and me on a remote island, away from everybody else. It doesn’t even have to be legal—just enough that you know how much I love you and how much I will love you for as long as I live …”

His arms had tightened around her, and his kiss had been fierce and full of passion. “I can’t wait, Amalia, my Principessa. As far as I’m concerned, I’m already your husband.”

 

If only that were true, Ama thought miserably as she dressed for a ‘romantic’ dinner with the monster who was legally her husband. She pulled on the lingerie he had bought her absentmindedly, then changed the dressing on her wound. She hoped the antibiotics would kick in soon. At least a decent meal would do her good.

 

She was ready when Jackson arrived, followed by one of his guards pushing in a trolley loaded with covered plates. The guard left immediately, and Jackson locked the door.

He looked her up and down. “You look beautiful, darling.”

Ama gave him a half-smile, trying to make it look genuine. “The dress is lovely. Thank you, Jackson.”

He beamed. “See how much nicer things are when we are civil? Please sit, Ama, and I will serve.”

She sat down obediently, and Jackson put a covered plate in front of her. He made a flourish as he pulled the cover off, but then laughed—almost a giggle, like a naughty school boy. A small handgun sat on the plate. “Oh, silly me, wrong plate.” He leaned in so his face was next to hers and Ama tried not to cringe away from him. “That’s what I’ll use on you if you do anything—anything—to displease me during this dinner, darling. You’ll get three and your sister will get the other three. Now, can you promise me we will have a good time tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Louder.”

She met his gaze. “Yes, Jackson.” You had better pray I don’t get my hands on that gun, Jackson, because if I do, you’ll wish you’d never been born. She gave him a wide smile and kissed him lightly.

Jackson drew back, smiling. “Good.” He tucked the gun into the back of his waistband and swapped the plates over. This time, when he lifted the cover, Ama nearly swooned at the smell of the food underneath. A perfectly cooked T-bone steak oozing with garlic butter, a baked potato, and some lightly-cooked vegetables. Despite her fear and anger, Ama’s mouth filled with saliva. Jackson seemed pleased at her reaction. He sat at the opposite end of the table while they ate, the handgun resting next to his hand.

The food was good and Ama suddenly realized she was starving. Jackson poured them some red wine and Ama sipped it. She wondered if she should, given the tablets the doctor had sent for her, but she would do anything to get through this.

She started to feel strange as they finished their entrees. Her head was swirling. Too much wine? As she picked at the fruit salad Jackson had given her for dessert, she started to feel out of it completely. Maybe I’m just exhausted, she thought, but her skin felt like it was on fire.

Jackson was watching her carefully. “Something wrong, darling?” His grin was wide.

Ama started to stand, knocking her wine glass to the floor. “Jackson …did you put something in my drink?”

He laughed. “Just a little something to relax you, Ama. Don’t worry, it won’t harm you. Just make things go a little smoother between us.”

Her vision was blurry. “Jackson …I don’t feel so good …”

She stumbled toward the bathroom, but Jackson caught her in his arms. “It’s okay, darling. Just relax into it.”

She felt herself being carried to the bed, then her skin felt cool as Jackson peeled the dress from her. “Just pretend I’m my bastard brother, Ama …” His voice sounded far away and her limbs felt like liquid.

When Jackson’s cock thrust into her, she was barely conscious, but still, the rocking motion and the smell of him made her want to throw up. Play your role. Don’t forget he holds all the cards here. Say his name.

“Jackson,” she whispered and heard his satisfied chuckle.

“Good, good …now, Ama, this is only the beginning of the evening. I have a surprise for you.”

Ama was so out of it, by the time Jackson had cum, she barely felt him pull her up into his arms and carry her from the room, draped only in the bed sheet. He strode down the hallway with her, and before Ama could try and see where he was taking her, he was walking into a darkened room. “We’re going to have some different kind of fun tonight, my darling.”

He set her down onto what felt like a wooden bench, then adjusted the lighting. Ama, blinking to try and wake herself up, felt a jolt of shock go through her. From the ceilings, hung chains with cuffs on the end. A large, wooden bed with stocks and St. Andrew’s Cross stood at the other end of the room. On one wall, whips, paddles, restraints, and harnesses hung from hooks. On another, a huge flat screen T.V. On a credenza under the T.V., knives lay out.

Oh god, someone help me.

It was a bondage room, but it had Jackson’s twist on it. It wasn’t a place of experimentation, of BDSM, or of loving adventure, but a torture chamber. He wanted her humiliated, scared, and in fear of her life. That’s what turned Jackson on.

She looked back at him, and his face was alive with desire and triumph.

“Before you left me for the bastard,” he said. “I was planning to have this built in our home—after Dad had passed, obviously. Eventually, after the two years were up and you were going to leave me, I would have brought you here for one last time. One last time before I killed you. I was never going to accept you leaving me, Ama. You know that now, right?”

Barely conscious and terrified, she nodded. Jackson took her in his arms. “Now, there are two ways this evening could go. One…you try to enjoy it and make me happy, and you live. Your sister lives. The other …” He nodded to the case of knives. “I use all of them on you. They won’t even bother to count the stab wounds, Ama, I swear to you. I’ll take my time, and you will know what hell feels like.”

“Why?” Ama said now, her voice barely more than a whisper, “Why me? Why all of this just for me? Why did you try and kill Inca too?”

Jackson grinned. “Speaking of which …”

He grabbed the remote control and on the flat screen, the video of Inca being stabbed played. Ama gave a cry of distress.

“I’ve watched this over and over again, just enjoying the terror and pain on her beautiful face. The way the knife slides into her belly like butter. The way the blood blooms across her dress.”

Jackson looked back at Ama, who was trembling uncontrollably. His eyes were cold and dead, and now Ama saw the madness within. “I wish I had ordered the men I sent to kill Penny to film it too. I didn’t even think about it until I ordered the hit on Inca.”

He was insane. A monster. A …Ama didn’t have the words for it. But inside her mind, one thought began to fester. He is insane …use that. Use it to get Selima released. Use it to save your own life if you can…

Ama knew what she had to do now. She had to push all her feelings aside and allow Jackson to do what he wanted …even it meant the worst kind of violation. If it meant getting him to trust her, she would take that risk.

God, Enda, I’m sorry …I’m trying to fight my way back to you.

Please forgive me.

 

Enda had not found anything in the rubble of his father’s home. He’d contacted the forensics team, who had let him examine what little was left of his father and brother’s possessions. There were some old photographs, badly burned and warped, a few old letters that Macaulay had written to Olivier and Jackson’s mother, receipts, and bills. But there was nothing else. No clues.

Frustrated, he drove into his office. The police knew to find him there, and at least he could coordinate the search from there.

Raffaelo called him just after midday. “Guess what?”

“Tell me.”

“We’re coming to the States.”

Enda was astonished. “Inca’s well enough?”

Raff hesitated, then sighed. “Not really, but she is insistent. There’s a surgeon over there who might be able to fix some of the scarring. Between us, I think Inca’s using that as an excuse. She knows I couldn’t say no to her. She is much stronger now and she’s not hooked up to any machinery. I negotiated a nurse to come with us, but yes, we’re coming to America.”

Enda sat down with a bump. “Selfishly, Raff, I can’t wait to see you all, but do you really think this is a good idea?”

“Inca and I …we want to be there for you, Enda. You are my brother, and we can’t see you hurting like this.”

Enda was so touched he couldn’t speak. Raff laughed softly. “We’ll be there tomorrow, Enda. Stay strong.”

 

The next day, Enda drove out to the airport to meet their private jet. Inca smiled at him, but he was shocked at how thin and pale she was. Raff hugged him tightly. “We’re all together now …we will find Ama, I swear it.”

 

Enda insisted that Raff, Inca, and Inca’s nurse, a sweet woman in her fifties called Giovanna, or ‘Vanni,’ as Inca already called her, stay with him. “Don’t be fooled by that gorgeous face,” Inca had warned Enda, as Giovanni giggled, “She rules me with a rod of iron.”

Enda marveled again at Inca’s ability to draw people to her, even when she was obviously still in a lot of pain. Raff looked older, saddened, and wrecked by what had happened, but Enda watched him rallying, trying to hide his misery.

When Enda got Raff on his own later, Raff admitted he was shattered. “I just feel so damn helpless. Is the answer really locking Inca up in an ivory tower to keep her safe?”

“God, I’m so sorry, Raff. If it’s any consolation, I feel exactly the same, man.”

Raff nodded. “Of course. Sorry. Look, take me through what you’ve found out already.”

 

They poured over the maps of California. “We think he planned this down to the most minute detail; wherever his compound is, it is deeply hidden. The places the police and my team have searched all had roads leading to them. Wherever Jackson is, it’s out in the wilds somewhere.”

Enda gave a short laugh, running his hands through his dark hair. “I’ve spent days just on Google Earth, just trying to figure out something. We’re going to have to extend the search, I think.”

Raff nodded. “We need new teams, then. People who aren’t jaded from searching.”

“I agree. And we need to do this in a grid pattern, I think. However much it costs.”

“Money isn’t an object. You know that. Let’s just get them home.”

 

Ama woke up, her limbs stiff. She felt a hand on her arm and skittered away from it in alarm.

“It’s me, Ama.” Selima. Ama let out a long breath. She was in Selima’s room, on top of her bed. Selima poured a cup of water for her.

“They brought you here last night, late. Jackson said we could stay together now. He looked …weird.”

Ama sipped the cold water and closed her eyes. Last night had been the worst, most degrading, most humiliating night of her life, but she couldn’t break down. Not with Selima still here. Selima put her arms around her sister.

“Talk to me.”

“I can’t,” Ama whispered. “I never want you to know what happened.”

Her words were enough to make Selima start to weep gently. “Oh, no, no, Ama, no …”

Ama hugged her back tightly before releasing her. “I need to bathe.”

Selima helped her undress and tried not to let the horror fill her eyes as she looked at the cuts, welts, and bruises on her sister’s body. Ama felt broken, and as she stepped into the tub, she winced as the hot water stung her wounds.

She felt disconnected from herself, completely soulless and empty. Jackson had done things to her which she would not allow herself to think of and would certainly never tell Selima ...or Enda. Jackson was a monster, an aberration of a human, and Ama knew now there was only one way she could save her sister, and that was to sacrifice herself.

After she had bathed, she knocked on the door. The guard opened it. “Tell Jackson I want to see him. Now. I have a proposal for him.” The guard nodded and was about to shut the door when Ama stopped. “And tell him to bring his favorite knife.”

Selima’s eyes opened wide, but Ama shook her head at her. “I know what to do now, Selima. I’m getting you out of here. So, for the next few minutes, when Jackson gets here, I want you to go into that bathroom and give me some space. Don’t listen to what I’m saying. Can you do that?”

Selima nodded, her eyes terrified. When Jackson arrived, Selima went into the bathroom. Ama faced her husband.

Jackson studied her and smiled. “You look beautiful.”

Ama stared back at him, then dropped her robe. “Am I? Do you like me bruised, cut, and wounded, Jackson?”

He grinned widely. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“I do.” She walked towards him, naked. “You get off on hurting women; it’s what fuels you, yes?”

She grabbed his hand, the one with the knife, and stepped closer so that the tip of the blade pressed against her belly. “Do it, Jackson. You know you want to. Run me through.”

Jackson’s eyes grew wary and he jerked the knife away from her. “Why would I want to do that …especially after we discovered new realms of pleasure together last night.”

God …there wasn’t a word for how vile he was. “Do you want to do it again?”

“Of course.”

“Then here’s my proposal. Let my sister go, unharmed. You or one of your goons delivers her to a hospital, in whatever state you like. When I see she’s safe on the television, I’ll go with you anywhere. I’ll do anything with you. They need never find us.”

Jackson narrowed his eyes. “And what if I don’t?”

“Then pick up that knife and kill me now. Because if you think I’m going to let you touch me ever again after last night, after what you did to me, without me getting something in return …”

His hand shot up and grabbed her throat. “What guarantee do I have that you’ll keep your end of the bargain if I let Selima go?”

Ama stared back, her gaze cool. “You don’t. But then you get to kill me and jerk off over my dead body. It’s a win-win for you.”

Jackson was quiet for a long moment. “You know how this will end eventually, don’t you, Amalia? Your blood on my hands.”

She nodded. “I know.”

He released her, and she stepped back, pulling her robe on. Would he go for it? Ama realized she was holding her breath.

Jackson nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.”

 

When Jackson had gone, Selima came out of the bathroom, tears streaming down her face. She had obviously been listening.

“I’m not leaving you.”

Ama nodded. “Yes, you are. Selima, look …this is the only way. You’re my best chance. If you can lead the police here, or at least tell them anything, I might have a chance. Otherwise, last night proved to me one thing: Jackson doesn’t intend to let me go alive. Ever. But you do get the chance to live.”

Her voice broke, and Selima came to her. “I won’t leave you,” she repeated through her sobs.

Ama hugged her tightly. “You have to …you have to tell Enda that I love him. That I’ll love him forever. Please, Selima …please do this for me.”

 

A couple of hours later, Jackson returned with two guards and the doctor in tow. The doctor gave Ama a strange look, but Jackson didn’t notice. “You have a deal, Ama. You,” he looked at Selima. “The doctor is here to give you something for the journey. Don’t worry. It’s just a sedative. Can’t have you picking out details to help identify this place. My men will take you to a hospital, where you will ask to talk to the press so that Ama can see you’re safe. Say your goodbyes, ladies.”

Ama hugged her sobbing sister. “Live well, Selima, for me. Tell Enda I love him and that I don’t regret a moment with him.”

After a few minutes, Jackson got impatient. “Enough. Doctor!”

The doctor injected Selima and Ama held her hand as she passed out. She looked at the two men. “Please take care of her.”

One of them nodded and the other stood stone-faced. Ama kissed her sister’s forehead, and the men carried Selima out. Ama was terrified, then, that Jackson would go back on his word and he saw it on her face. “We had an agreement, Ama. Your sister will be safe.”

And for some reason, she believed him. She sat down heavily on the bed and felt exhausted. The doctor looked at her and felt her forehead. “You’re running a temperature. Maybe I should check your wound out.”

Jackson nodded. “I’ll give you ten minutes, Doc. Do whatever she needs.”

He left them alone. The doctor helped her out of her dress and winced when he saw the new wounds. “I don’t have long, but I will take care of these.” He leaned in closer. “My dear, I must tell you. I ran the blood tests. There is a slight infection, but nothing that won’t be knocked out by the antibiotics. There is something else. You are pregnant, my dear.”

 

Inca, still confined to a wheelchair, asked Vanni to roll her towards Enda’s study. When she got there, the two men were still locked in discussion over a map of California. They looked up as she was rolled in.

“Thanks, Vanni,” Inca smiled at her nurse, who grinned and went out of the room. Inca waved a couple of photos at Enda. “Enda, these came from the fire-damaged stuff. Can you tell me where they are?”

He took the old, faded, and damaged Polaroid from her and studied it. One showed a field and trees, the sun scorched. The other a set of stepping stones across a small creek. Enda frowned. “I don’t know, Inca. Why?”

“I’m thinking—is it somewhere Jackson went as a kid? The photos are old and faded, but I was just wondering if it’s somewhere Jackson feels close to, or has good memories of, he might …” She trailed off as she looked at the skepticism on their faces. “I know. I’m reaching, but, for the love of God, he has to be somewhere.”

Raff went to his wife and hugged her. “Any idea is good at this stage, Bella. Sorry if we seemed a little off.”

Enda nodded. “Agreed. Anything is good now. Olivier will be here soon; we’ll ask him if he can tell us anything.

 

Two hours later, Olivier was nodding his head. “Yeah …this was a place our mom used to take us when she wanted to get us away from all the ‘opulence,’ as she put it, and let us be normal kids for once. She used to make us fish in the creek and hike through the hills. We always loved those days out; believe it or not, it was the one time that Jackson and I actually got along.”

Enda tried not to get too excited. He exchanged a look with Inca. “Where is it?”

“Out in Fresno County, near a place called Humphrey’s Station.” Olivier finally got it. He looked between the three of them. “Really? You think he could be there?”

“It’s a possibility,” Enda said. “At this moment, I’ll take any lead.”

“We have some men in the area, scouring it, and I mean, practically inch-by-inch. There must be some evidence of him being there if we’re right.”

Suddenly the door burst open and Vanni came in. “Mr. Gallo, please, the television …”

She was breathless and half-crying. Enda flicked on the tv and they all froze.

Selima Rai, tears pouring down her face, was flanked by two female police officers, begging them all to save her sister.

 

Ama sat on the cool bathroom floor, her head in her hands. Pregnant. How? She had been on the pill for months now …only she had missed the last few days for obvious reasons. Did that mean the baby was Jackson’s? God …

But she couldn’t hate the little life inside her, because there was a chance, a very small chance that it could be Enda’s child. Earlier, before she knew about her pregnancy and after Selima had gone, she had come to terms with the fact that she would probably be killed soon. She accepted it.

But now? She had to try and save herself and the baby. That was evident. She started as Jackson came into the suite and called her name.

“In here. I’ll be out in a second.”

She flushed the toilet and splashed water on her face. When she went back into the bedroom, Jackson smiled at her. “Time to watch a little T.V., darling.”

 

In the bondage room, where Ama deliberately didn’t look at the bed where she had been so hideously violated the night before, Jackson switched on the television. He flicked to the news channel, and when Ama saw her sister’s face, safe, with the police, she burst into tears. Thank god. Thank god …

She felt Jackson put an arm around her. “Ama …from now on, we will be a happy couple. Together. Tonight, we will be flying to another place, somewhere they will never find us. Thank you for giving me this gift, my love.”

Christ, he really is insane, isn’t he? A happy couple? Play along, her subconscious told her.

She looked up and smiled at him. “Thank you, Jackson. Thank you for keeping your word.”

Jackson kissed her and she forced herself to respond. He pushed her dress away from her shoulders and stripped her, and Ama went along with it, kissing him passionately and freeing his cock from his pants. Clarity had come to her since the doctor told her about the baby, and she’d figured out that this room, this terrible room, was her way out of this place.

That and Jackson’s arrogance. She smiled at him. “I want to taste you.” She nearly gagged on the words, but Jackson, smiling, nodded and pushed her head down to his lap. Ama took his cock into her mouth. As she teased and sucked him, she flicked her eyes around the room, taking in every chance she had to get an advantage. His rack of knives was the most obvious, but they were over on the other side of the room.

Anything. Anything will do …adrenaline coursed through her body as she realized this was the moment. This was the time.

Jackson grunted and grinned down at her. “That feels so good, baby. So, good. Let me cum in your mouth…”

And as he came, groaning, Ama clenched her jaw and bit down as hard as she could.

 

As soon as Selima confirmed that they had been held somewhere near Fresno, the F.B.I. and Enda, Raffaelo, and Olivier flew out in helicopters to the place where Olivier and Jackson played as kids. Inca had wanted to come, but Raffaelo forbade it, telling her, “No way. I don’t want you within a million miles of guns and Jackson Gallo.”

She had protested, but gave up when Raffaelo made it clear he was serious. “And besides,” Raffaelo told her. “Selima is being brought here. You’ll need each other if …anything goes south.” He lowered his voice so Enda couldn’t hear him. “Keep away from the news. Obviously the F.B.I. have ordered a news blackout until after the operation, but you never know.”

 

Now, as he sat in the helicopter beside Enda, he could see his friend was beyond anxious. Enda jiggled his legs constantly, staring out of the window as California passed beneath them. But Raffaelo felt optimistic for the first time in days. They had a lead.

As they reached the small, isolated place called Humphrey’s Station, an F.B.I. Agent met them. “We’ve found it. It’s buried in the hillside, and we would have missed it, except that we spotted a car coming out of one of the valleys leading to it. A doctor. We picked him up, and he caved and spilled his guts to us. Mr. Gallo, your partner is being held inside. We’re concerned that there are many armed guards in there with her, as well as Jackson Gallo. We need to approach this carefully.”

 

Enda could have screamed in frustration. Just go in there and get her. But he knew they were right. If Jackson were alerted to the fact they had been found, he would kill Ama and shoot his way out.

Raff put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re nearly home, Enda. Stay strong.”

 

Jackson screamed as Ama’s teeth clamped onto his penis. Ama tasted blood, and when she saw him buckle, she released her grip and staggered back away from him, over to where he kept the knives. In horror, she saw that a glass lid had been placed over them and locked.

Fuck.

Jackson was recovering now—as best as he could with only half a penis. Ama had spat him out. Now he was staring at her with murder in his eyes.

But instead of being scared, Ama found herself angry. Furious. Raging. She grabbed whatever she could find and hurled it at him as he lunged at her, ducking out of his grip. She found a paddle in her hand and slammed it into his face. Jackson reeled, but just as Ama thought she might have the upper hand, Jackson grabbed a whip and caught her on her face before looping it around her neck and pulling it tight. Ama choked, twisted, and turned, trying to free herself, but her airways were cut off, and she felt unconsciousness coming. Desperate—giving into the darkness would mean certain death—she grabbed at anything she could. It was a studded harness, leather and heavy. She flung it back, again and again, hoping to catch Jackson in the eye, and when he gave a howl and the whip around her throat eased and fell to the floor, she knew she’d hit her mark. She dived across the bed and threw herself onto the glass-topped credenza, hoping her weight would smash the glass. It cracked, but didn’t break.

“You fucking bitch! I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you!” Jackson was lunging at her again, and in desperation, she plowed her elbow into the glass with all her strength. Both her elbow and the glass smashed, and despite the agonizing pain shooting up her arm, she grabbed what she could—a shard of glass—and as Jackson grabbed her, she lashed out.

Jackson staggered back as Ama was covered in a mist of blood from the gushing wound in his neck. Jackson fell to the floor, his carotid bursting from the pressure of blood escaping the wound. Ama dropped to her knees, gasping for air and searching for the keys in Jackson’s pockets. He grabbed her arm. “I’ll kill you …”

She shook his hand off. “Go to hell, Jackson. Which is where you’ll be in a few more seconds, I’m guessing. You’re bleeding out, idiot, and no one, no one, will mourn you.” Her anger was still ruling her as she grabbed a knife from the smashed cabinet. “This is for Selima, for Inca, and for Penny.” She slammed the knife into his chest, straight into his heart. Jackson made a gurgling noise in his throat, then his head fell to the side, his eyes staring but unseeing.

Ama sat back, catching her breath. Now what? She had to find the exit, unarmed and facing god knows how many armed guards who would shoot her in a second. She placed a hand on her belly.

“Come on, little one. We’ve come this far.” She grabbed Jackson’s keys, unlocked the door, and slipped out of the room into the corridors.

 

Enda watched the F.B.I. and the S.W.A.T. team planning and felt a rush of irritation. He knew it wasn’t fair, but they had been there hours, and Ama was still in there, the authorities deeming it too risky to go in yet.

“Why? How much more risk can it be for Ama?”

But Raff calmed him down. Now it was getting dark and they were still strategizing. Fuck this. Enda ducked behind the police vehicles and ran around to where they said the entrance was, ducking behind shrubs and trees and moving stealthily in the gloom. At the entrance, he saw a guard outside, patrolling. He padded silently behind the man and took him out with a punch to the temple. The man crumpled silently. Enda grabbed his gun and cold-cocked him again just to make sure he was down. He relieved the guard of his handcuffs and bound his hands behind his back.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Enda spun around to see a furious Raff behind him. Enda sighed. “Go back, Raff. This is my battle.”

“No way.”

Enda shook his head. “Don’t be stupid …you and I both know this is a suicide mission. Don’t leave Inca a widow.”

Raff’s face was hard. “No, just give her a coward as a husband. You go in, I go in. That’s how this is going to work.”

Enda could tell Raff wouldn’t shift. “Fine. Stay behind me. We only have one weapon between us.”

He unlocked the entrance door and slipped inside, Raff close behind him.

 

Olivier was talking to the F.B.I. Agent in charge, and now he looked around to bring his brother, and his friend, into the conversation. He couldn’t see them anywhere.

Olivier frowned. Where the fuck were they? Then it hit him and he cursed loudly. The F.B.I. Agent looked at him, and Olivier turned his grim-set face toward him.

“Yeah. We may have a problem.”

 

Armed with a knife, Ama staggered through the hallways, her ears on high alert. She had to duck into rooms she didn’t know were occupied, and more frustratingly, she seemed to be getting deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of tunnels. She paused in a dark corridor, trying to quell the rising panic. She heard two men approaching ad slid back into the darkness.

“What do you think he’s doing to her tonight?” The man had a mocking tone to his voice.

“Don’t know, but I wouldn’t want to be that girl. He’s a sick fucking freak. If he didn’t pay so well, I’d take him out myself. Poor kid.”

“Yeah, right. She looks like a whore.”

“Have some respect, asshole.”

Ama frowned. They hated Jackson as much as she did. Maybe they would help her …no. Don’t be stupid. You’ve just killed their money maker. When they had passed, she tracked back where they had come from and followed the hallways back past the room where Jackson lay dead, then toward the room where she and Selima were held. Something told her this was the right way. She felt a pain shooting through her—a cramp, or maybe her wound had opened up. She glanced down to see blood soaking her bare skin, remembering she was only clad in her underwear. What a fucked-up situation. She nearly giggled, a hysterical reaction to the circumstances.

“Stop right there, beautiful, or you’ll force me to put a bullet in that gorgeous body.”

Ama froze. Shit. Stupid woman. You lost focus. She turned slowly to see one of the guards aiming his pistol at her. “Put the knife down, sweetheart.”

She dropped the knife, raising her hands.

“Where’s Jackson?”

Ama swallowed. No way out now. “Dead. I killed him. So, do what you want to me. He’s dead and I’m fucking glad.”

The guard looked surprised, then grinned. “Good. Then maybe I can have some fun with you before I kill you, gorgeous.”

He had started to approach her when Ama heard the shot. She felt the rush of air over her head and saw the bullet hit the guard straight in the forehead. He dropped like a stone and Ama spun around …to see her love, her Enda, his gun still raised. She couldn’t believe it. Enda lowered the gun and handed it to Raff, who was smiling at her. Enda walked slowly at first, then as Ama started to run toward him, he started to run too and swept her into his arms. Ama was sobbing now, not caring who heard them. Enda kissed her face and her hair, his voice breaking as he told her he loved her over and over.

“Guys, we have to go. Now.” Raff looked apologetic, but Enda nodded. Still carrying Ama, they raced back towards the entrance. As they reached the door, shots rang out, barely missing them, and they threw themselves outside and ran.

Spotlights flooded the area, then, and they blinked in the lights. Chaos ensued. F.B.I. Agents took them to safety, and soon Ama and Enda were in an ambulance racing towards Fresno and a hospital.

 

At the hospital, a doctor examined her as Enda went to call Olivier. Ama grabbed the doctor’s hand. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered,” No one knows. Can you tell how far along I am?”

The doctor, a kind looking woman, smiled. “We’ll run some tests. Discreetly,” she added. “In the meantime, you’re going to need a minor surgery to help you heal.”

 

Later, Enda came back, and they enjoyed some alone time, finally. Enda hugged her tightly. “God, to think I nearly lost you.”

Ama relaxed into his arms. “It’s over now, baby. We can be happy.”

“Damn right.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Ama looked at him, her eyes serious. “I killed Jackson. Your brother.”

“Half-brother. And fuck him. The world’s a better place.”

“Do you think Olivier thinks so?”

Enda swept her hair away from her face. “Cara mia, Olivier loves you. You did what you had to do to survive. He knows you did the right thing.”

“He’s grieving, though?”

Enda nodded. “Just for the idea of a brother, rather than Jackson, I think. But believe me, he’s one-hundred percent behind you.”

Ama sighed. “I can’t wait to get out of here.”

“The minute we do, I’m marrying you.”

Ama laughed. “Well, you’d better.”

“Knock, knock.” It was the doctor from earlier, who smiled at her. “We’ve run the tests.”

Ama felt her heartbeat quicken. “How many?” Months, she asked silently, and the doctor nodded.

“Three.” And she grinned. Ama burst into tears, smiling through them. Enda was utterly confused.

“What’s going on?”

The doctor smiled again and left the room, closing the door behind her. Ama couldn’t speak from relief and joy, but finally, when Enda was starting to look worried, she held his face in her hands, her eyes shining, and told him that in six months, he was going to be a father and their life as a family could really begin

 

 

The End

 

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