Instead of a movie-worthy reunion, I sat tight. Jack slid into the car—literally ghosting through the trunk into the back seat.
My eyes hungrily drank him in, scanning for changes.
“You’re okay?”
“Thank heavens, you are unharmed.”
Our voices overlapped.
I laughed, trying to break through the tension.
“What happened?” I asked.
Jack caught me up-to-date. Car. Bullets. Thugs. Crash.
Wow. TheCosa Nostrareally had put out a hit on me.
Let’s face it. It was bound to happen sooner or later. But still . . . my heart lurched into my throat and my pulse pounded and my vision darkened at the edges.
Keep it together, Chiara.
From there, I made a series of phone calls.
Inspector Paola was predictably furious, telling me I needed to tuck myself away in a hideout and keep my face out of the limelight.
My brothers were horrified and suddenly ridiculously overprotective. It was sorta nice once I overlooked theridiculously overprotectivepart.
Jack felt confident that his threats to the mobsters would deter them from coming after me. The mafia were a superstitious lot.
None of the rest of us were so sure.
Dante called a friend who then called another friend who called in a favor from another friend, eventually landing us a vacation apartment in the Cinque Terre—the Five Earths—a colorful series of fishing villages sprawling down cliffs along the Ligurian coast, north and west of Florence.
Tucked against the rugged coastline, Riomaggiore was the very definition of a charming, Italian seaside town. Small and difficult to access, it would be the perfect hiding place. We made our way north, skirting Florence and winding along back roads.
We arrived late. Streetlights flickered past, painting the inside of the car in rapid-fire streaks of tie-dyed orange and yellow.
Driving into the top of the town, I parked my car in the private garage that came with the apartment. From there, I shouldered my luggage and a bag of groceries and began the long slog down to the apartment itself. Jack drifted along beside, grumbling about not being able to help me.
Riomaggiore as a town had grown organically over thousands of years, moving up the steep mountain slopes from the ocean’s edge. For most of its existence, the village had ignored the reality of wheeled vehicles. This meant that the streets were mostly stairs and alleyways with no rhyme or reason. The ultimate labyrinth. Fortunately, it was late and dark, keeping Jack well-hidden.
After getting lost not once but three times, we managed to find the tiny alleyway and entrance to the apartment. I was exhausted and ready to collapse into bed.
I fumbled with the lock and stumbled into the apartment only to be greeted by an enormous poster of Ariel fromThe Little Mermaid.
I blinked.
And then slowly rotated.
Belle. Cinderella. Elsa. Ariel. Tiana.
The house looked like a Disney cruise gift shop had been sick all over it. Vaguely, I remembered Dante mentioning something about the apartment being dedicated to the owner’s small grandkids.
Jack spun in a circle, eyes snagging on the array of princess-themed bike helmets, life vests, beach floats and other accessories stacked against one wall.
Our eyes locked.
Him:This is kinda creepy.
