"They came out of nowhere. We checked the tunnel behind us. There was no one."
"They were ahead of you," I say. "Waiting at the exit behind some dumpsters or something."
"But how did they?—"
"Doesn't matter right now." I cut him off. "What matters is they know we used the tunnels. Which means we can't use them again."
We've earned Kemal's trust, but barely, and we still have the problem of Gerard standing between us and our shipping routes, along with new knowledge that he undoubtedly has someone working for him who knows my secrets.
Enzo ends his call.
"Silvio's on his way. He'll be here in twenty minutes."
I release the pressure on Luca's shoulder and step back.
Blood has soaked through the rag, but the bleeding is slowing.
I'm sure he'll make it, but it looks messy.
As I turn to try to find the old bottle of vodka I have stashed out here to ease my shaking hands, the garage door to the main house opens.
I expect Rico.
Instead, Angelica steps through.
She freezes when she sees the blood.
Her eyes move from Luca to the tech to the SUV streaked with grime from the tunnels.
Then they land on me.
"Holy…" she breathes, and I'm on her, pushing her back through the door and into the house before she can say another word.
27
ANGELICA
When I heard the engines, I raced downstairs from my warm spot on Dante's bed to intercept them, but they never came in the house.
Now, I hover outside the garage door, my hand pressed against the cold metal.
Inside, I hear Dante giving orders.
The sharp edge in his tone means things have gone wrong, which makes me feel gut sick.
Everything’s been riding on this night, and if something went wrong, then it means things aren't over the way Dante told me they would be.
I should go back to bed and just wait for him but I'm too ramped up, too anxious about what may have happened, that there's no way I'll sleep, anyway.
I haven't been able to get a wink since he left this morning, even though Sofia went to bed early.
Marta even made me a nightcap and I drank the whole thing, but I'm wired.
So antsy, in fact, that I don't even use common sense.
When I hear him demanding a call to Silvio, who I know damn well is a doctor, I fear the worst, that Dante has been injured and he's bleeding out.
So I push the door open, not caring that I'm only wearing a night gown, and step into the cold garage.
