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“Vera.”
I hang up and let the burner phone fall into its drawer with a clatter. Adrenaline blasts up my arms, screaming at me to run, run, run!
I know who called me. That rasping voice filled with the threat of revenge could only be Victor.
My small Sig Sauer lives in another drawer, always loaded. The cool weight settles into my palm. I switch off the safety and set off on a jerky walk around the house, checking locks, closing the sliding door that leads to the deck, and arming the security system. I search each room, gun first, and deconstruct every shadow.
I end up in the kitchen. I keep my gun close, safety still off. The trees between me and the river sway, sending shadows flickering across the glass panes of the French doors. Any moment, I expect the dark shapes to morph into a six-foot-something hitman with a cruel smile. But they never do.
He’s not here. Of course, he isn’t. He’s not a bogeyman haunting me.
He’s not dead, either, apparently. A part of me hoped he wasn’t. Another shameful part conjures him up regularly as a nighttime companion. In the hours between sleeping and waking, my subconscious recalls the orgasms he gave me and makes new fantasies. I wake throbbing with arousal and stroke myself to completion, always with Victor’s name on my tongue when I come.
Try as I might, I haven’t been able to exorcize him completely. And now he’s called me.
I’m safe here. Royal equipped this place with the best of the best. He posted a guard for a while before I argued that two dark-haired men lurking in the driveway would draw more attention from the wealthy neighbors than a standoffish single woman living alone. I promised to be careful. Then I took him to the range and showed him my shooting scores, and he finally backed off.
Dusk falls. I eat my dinner of yogurt and a handful of walnuts at the kitchen counter, watching the sun’s golden fingers stretch across the water, slowly losing its battle with the oncoming night.
I realize I’m rubbing my chest and drop my hand. I miss my sword necklace. I could replace it, but I want my old one back.
I drink a glass of water, then give in to my cravings and open a bottle of wine. A brassy merlot, bold enough to wash the rest of my jitters away.
My phone rings again. I jump ten feet into the air before I realize it’s my real one.
“Royal,” I answer. “Checking in so soon?” We had a phone meeting only this morning.
“I can’t check in on my favorite cousin?” His voice is warm. He’s always happier at night after he’s been home for a few hours with his wife.
“Oh, so now I’m your favorite? You only say that because I negotiated that deal right from under the Vesuvi’s nose.”
“I poured some prosecco to celebrate.”
“I’ve got my red wine.” I hold up my glass in an unseen toast. “But don’t expect the deal to hold them.”
“I do not. The best way to deal with the Vesuvi is blunt force. But you have a knack for legal warfare.” There’s a long pause, and I know the subject he’s going to broach next. “Lula, we’ve spoken of this before?—”
Here it comes. I take a big swallow of merlot.
“But it’s been long enough. It’s time for you to accept your rightful place.”
“A woman can’t be consigliere. The men won’t have it.” If my father was alive, he’d be turning purple at the mere thought of all the work I do for La Famiglia.
“It’s a new day. Our fathers are gone.” Mine is dead, and Royal’s is as good as dead, stuck in prison.
“There’ll still be pushback.”
“Who’s afraid of pushback? You?”
I bite back my automatic response. Royal knows how to push my buttons. I’m already doing the work of a consigliere without the official recognition and a seat at the table. But something holds me back.
“We are not our fathers,” Royal continues. “We must forge ahead.”
He’s right. I can’t give him a logical reason for my refusal. How can I explain that I’m still bound to and eaten alive by the past? I can’t lie to him, but I can’t tell him the truth.
I’m saved by an unusual sound, one that sends alarm prickling up my spine. The whisper of gravel crunching in the driveway outside.
I set down my wine and grab my gun in the same second, my body tense and focused. “Hang on, someone’s coming.”
