Chapter Thirteen

Jillian

Seconds after the water turned off, Damon slid into bed behind me. His arm snaked over my waist and pulled me closer to him. I wanted to melt into him. I wanted to turn and wrap my arms around him. I wanted to tell him everything—in a whisper if I had to—but I just wanted him to know what I was facing so he could help me out of it.

But I couldn’t take that chance.

I didn’t know where Lorenzo had ears. Did he listen to us when we made love earlier? My heart broke at the thought. I closed my eyes, squeezing them tightly in anguish from the flood of memories flying through my mind. I didn’t know how long I remained motionless, dying inside with each breath. Damon’s evenly paced breaths and completely relaxed body drew my attention.

He was sound asleep. He was no doubt worn out from our earlier activities so soon after his hospital discharge. I was worn out from worry and stress and torment and sorrow. With no other choice and no time left, I carefully slid out of bed and took the knife under the pillow with me.

I crept around the bed to Damon’s side.

Standing there not breathing, taking in his form and memorizing every detail about him, I raised my hand with the knife. And something in my mind snapped.

Damon

The bed moved ever so slightly, but I knew what the play was. I kept my eyes closed, my breathing slow, and my ears tuned to Jillian’s every move. She thought I was asleep, and she wanted to take full advantage of my incapacitation. She was careful, but I heard her every step as she moved around to my side of the bed.

And stopped.

I could hear her breathing—fast and shallow. Then she sniffled, and my heart broke along with the trust I’d instilled in her. Without opening my eyes or turning my head, I felt her move closer to me…hovering directly over me.

The blade of her knife hadn’t yet touched my skin, but her intentions were clear. She planned to give me the Columbian necktie Lorenzo had demanded.

“Do it. Then go ahead and cut my heart out while you’re at it.”

She gasped loudly then a sob broke free. I grabbed her wrist and yanked her arm, pulling her over me and down onto the bed. With her small frame, she was as light as a feather. In seconds, she was underneath me, and the knife was safely secured in her hand pinned above her head.

“Slitting a man’s throat isn’t like what you see on TV, doll. It’s not a simple slice then you’re done. Killing a man like that takes a lot of practice to hone your skill. It takes a lot more pressure than you realize. You have to cut deep to get to the arteries. You need strength to hold him down because he’ll fight like a wild animal when it’s injured and cornered.

“You think it’s just a slow trickle of blood, don’t you? It’s not. Arterial blood sprays everywhere…every time the heart pumps while he lies there, gargling, dying slowly while you watch. It’s a very personal way of killing someone, because you have to be close to him. Maybe he lets you in because he trusts you. Maybe he doesn’t believe you pose a threat. But once you’ve started, you have to stay close and make sure he dies.

“I think you’ve watched way too much TV, doll. There are a thousand and one ways you could’ve killed me and walked away without leaving a trace. Cutting my throat in my sleep isn’t one of them. Only a skilled hitman can pull off that kind of hit—no one else who has a clue of what they’re doing would even attempt it. Because they know they’d be the one who ended up dead.”

I easily plucked the knife from her fingers and held it at her throat. Her eyes watered and her breathing halted. The fear in her eyes was real, but that wasn’t the most prevalent feeling I read in them. Her heart was broken because she had betrayed me.

But I couldn’t focus on how she felt. All I could think about was her betrayal and how she’d plotted to murder me in my sleep.

“Now, you’re going to tell me everything I want to know. That skilled hitman I just described? I train them—teach them everything they know. The first time I even suspect you’re lying, you’ll find out exactly how ruthless I really am. Consider this your mercy warning. No one else has ever gotten one from me.”

“I’ll tell you everything. Anything. I promise, Damon. I wasn’t going to go through with it. There’s no way I could’ve hurt you.”

“And yet, I opened my eyes to find you standing over me with a knife close to my throat. Was that your first lie?”

She shook her head briskly. “I’m not lying. I was trying to picture it and knew I couldn’t go through with it. I was trying to figure out how to get out of this mess I’m in.”

I knew killers—and she wasn’t one. “I guess you’d better start from the beginning and tell me everything, then. Don’t leave anything out.”

Panic covered her face, and her eyes darted around the room. “Maybe we should go somewhere else and leave our cell phones here. In case someone is listening,” she whispered.

“No one is listening, Jillian. That last text wasn’t from Lorenzo.”

Confusion turned to understanding as her reeling mind absorbed my words. I already knew more than I’d let on. She’d been tested and failed.

She described how she had to dig through financial documents to resolve an accounting discrepancy for her assigned account. In that analysis, she stumbled across evidence of an inside embezzlement job. She didn’t recognize the names she gave me, but I did. One name belonged to one of my family’s businesses. Money was being funneled from a Marchetti business, through Blaine Financial, and into a shell company set up by the Sanfratello family. The only name she recognized was the man who’d set up the scheme. The man whose vacancy she’d filled.

The man who’d betrayed me and I’d put a bullet in his brain the day I met her. Milo Bianchi.

The second name was an alias I knew Lorenzo used sometimes, but I didn’t confirm that to her. She already knew he was involved somehow, but she didn’t know to what extent. She continued spilling every detail of what she’d found, how she found it, and how she saved it all on a flash drive.

“Then Lorenzo showed up at my apartment and admitted his men shot you. They were trying to kill both of us. Since he couldn’t make another attempt on you without starting a family war, he put it on me to finish. He said either I do it, or he will kill my mother.”

I rolled off of her and sat up on the edge of the bed. With an aggravated huff, I ran my hand through my hair.

“I’ve tried to tell you several times over the last couple of days, but I never could finish. Then I was telling you tonight when I got that text. I thought he was listening somehow and knew what I’d planned. I wanted to tell you so you could help me figure out how to stop him.”

I stood and paced back and forth, warring with my wounded pride and my feelings for the attempted-murderess in my bed.

And with the knowledge I already held.

“Jillian, are you really that naïve?”

“What do you mean?”

“Lorenzo specifically told you to slit my throat while I slept. He knew you weren’t capable of doing that. He could’ve told you to poison me, shoot me, or even stab me in the heart. But slit my throat? Come on. He was setting you up to fail.”

“But why? I don’t understand. How was I supposed to know that? I’ve never killed anyone. I have no idea where to even start.” Her voice climbed a few octaves as the panic rose in her throat.

I turned to face her, contemplating the words I’d say next. “You really have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you? I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, Jillian. I really am.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. She knew what I had to tell her.

“Your mother is already gone. Lorenzo’s men killed her before my men could get to Louisiana. I’m truly very sorry.”

Tears poured from her eyes, but she didn’t respond. Both hands covered her mouth, and her eyes were fixed on mine. I didn’t think she was even breathing at that moment. Shock and agony were vying for first place in her heart.

“When?” she asked meekly.

“They believe it happened yesterday.”

“But I talked to her sitter tonight. She said Mom fell today and was asleep.”

“Lorenzo’s men have her. They knew you’d call. My men are looking for them now.”

Heart-wrenching sobs racked her body as she came to grips with what had happened. Her wails carried through my condo, echoing off the walls and ricocheting back to us. My arms ached to hold and comfort her. My mind fought against the urge, reminding my stupid heart she wasn’t trustworthy. If nothing else was real, her distress at that moment was definitely genuine.

After several long minutes, she rose from the bed and pulled my T-shirt over her naked body. Seeing her in my shirt stirred an unexpected possessive instinct I had to fight to tamp down. She stood facing me, but her eyes were fixed on the floor at my feet.

“What do you plan to do with me?”

Her tone was dull…flat…lifeless.

“I’m not going to do anything to you. I’m sure you know this, but I think you should return to Louisiana, pay your final respects, and don’t come back here.”

“Did you know she was dead before we left the hospital?”

“Yes. I did.”

“But you didn’t tell me until now?”

“I had to know what your choice would be. I had to know if I could trust you.”

“I wonder, Damon…if the tables had been turned, and you had to choose between Lina and me…which one of us would you have chosen?”

With that verbal slap across my face, she walked out of my bedroom and left me standing in a mass of confusion. What would I have done if I’d been in her position?

A couple of minutes passed before I heard the door shut and the ding of the elevator. I walked into the living room and found my T-shirt laid neatly across the back of the couch. Her clothes, shoes, and purse were gone.

Jillian was gone.

My men would be there to watch over her in Louisiana until this war with the Sanfratello family was finished. They’d make sure nothing happened to her in the meantime.

I vowed to personally make Lorenzo pay. He’d played games with me and used the one I thought I loved against me. He preyed on a woman with a good heart and an uncommon innocence, then ruined her life. She’d forever blame herself for her mother’s death because she didn’t tell me about the threat early enough.

When we’d had the extra security measures installed in her apartment, circumstances were much different. But they’d remained in place all this time, and Joe had been monitoring them, as he’d been instructed. Lorenzo anticipated the video surveillance and had a signal jammer in his pocket. But he didn’t figure on the extra voice recording we put in place as a backup. It picked up his every word, and Joe relayed the information to my father, who then relayed it to me.

Only, we all received the information too late to stop them.

I didn’t believe she’d do what he told her. I thought she’d come to me and tell me about his ultimatum so I could take care of it for her. It would’ve been so easy for me to handle the situation. But then, I’d never told her about my skillset before that night.

She had several Blaine Financial employees listed as contacts in her phone. I changed Lorenzo’s number in her phone to Benny’s number after my father told me what had occurred. Then I had Benny text her a picture of her mother I’d found in her photos along with the threat. She fell right into the trap and showed her true colors.

The rhetorical question she asked me before she walked out of my life disturbed me. What would I have done if I were in her shoes and forced to choose who would die? Could I allow my mom to die to save Jillian? Could I let Jillian die to save my mom? If I didn’t possess the knowledge, resources, and skills I had, would I have reacted any differently than she did?

I paced the length of my apartment repeatedly, going over every detail of what she said, what my father said, and what Lorenzo said.

I didn’t expect to miss her the second she was out of sight.

I didn’t expect to feel as if a piece of me were missing.

I didn’t expect to be the pussy-whipped moron who wanted her to come back.

One way or another, I’d get Jillian Hart off my mind.

I’d forget about her and move on with my life.

I would’ve believed that too, if not for the warning in my head and my heart that said otherwise.