Sleep won’t come. Instead of drifting off, my mind drags me down the rabbit hole of what ifs. What if I had never metMichael? I’d be a surgeon in a hospital somewhere, living my dream, instead of being complicit in criminal activity while I hide from a psychopath.
But I also wouldn’t have Rona. I can’t imagine her not existing. He raped me, impregnated me to control me. But the irony is, he gave me the one thing I would fight to the death for. The one thing that gave me the courage to run.
The thing about running though, is you can never stop, can never stop looking over your shoulder. Can never relax and just be. Warm tears escape as I let myself imagine a life where I could take Rona to the park, or out for ice cream, or just be able to tuck her in every night. I’m missing so much. She’s missing so much. What kind of life is this?
***
I’m exhausted and numb by the time I return to the warehouse in the morning. Joey’s broken body is gone. Sal’s been left there to clean up. He doesn’t know if they got the name of the shooter before Joey died. Or he just doesn’t want to tell me.
I can’t decide if I’m being paranoid or if it’s really possible I was the shooter’s target. Michael wouldn’t want me dead. That would be too easy. And if he found me, why hasn’t he come for me? That’s easy enough to answer. Because he wants Rona, too. And Celia. There’s no way he’s letting her betrayal go unpunished.
When I arrive at Sandro’s house to check on Mac, Lennon is just leaving for work. She’s a counselor helping women who’ve experienced trauma. I really admire her and wish I could stick around and get to know her better.
“Good morning, Sam.” She’s dressed in a pair of beige slacks and a white button down, her hair in a bun, except forthe layers framing her face. She’s smiling but also distracted. “I left Mac in the kitchen eating breakfast.” Her smile falters as she studies my face, apparently already in work mode. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I wave away her concern. “Just didn’t sleep well.”
She reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Okay, but you know you can always talk to me, right? I’m a pretty good listener.”
She’s persistent, I’ll give her that. Her kindness unravels something inside me, and I can’t stop the tears that rush up and sting my tired eyes. “Sorry,” I say, blinking hard and blowing out a breath. “I appreciate that. I just… wouldn’t know where to start.”
She purses her lips and nods to herself. “My friend Sloane and I are meeting at the Salt Line Tavern for a girl’s night out tonight. Come with us.”
“Oh.” I shouldn’t. But I’ve never met girlfriends at a bar before. It was something I never had time for… friends or downtime having drinks. It’s something I was always envious of. Before I can think too much about it, I hear myself saying, “Okay.” Because I really like Lennon, enjoy spending time with her, and it would be nice to have a friend. If only for a little while.
Her smile is immediate and genuine. “Great. Just meet me back here at eight, we’ll ride together.”
“Hey, Doc,” Mac greets me when I find him in the kitchen. “Tell me you’ve brought coffee. My daughter gave me this dandelion muck. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I’ve tasted rainwater with more flavor.” He’s scowling into a cup.
I chuckle. “How about a field trip on the golf cart to Island Brew?” I’m feeling lighter with the prospect of joining a girl’s night. But then guilt dampens my mood. Should I really behaving fun when my daughter is in danger? When I should be spending every second figuring out how to get us far away from here?
Mac grabs his cane, interrupting my guilt trip. “I knew you were a smart lass.”
If I was smart, I would listen to my intuition and run.
Chapter 12
Killian
I’m perched on a bar stool, chatting with Niall, one of my new bartenders. “If a lad orders it with cola, pour him the house whiskey. He won’t taste the difference anyway.”
“Got it.” Niall is a wiry fella in his forties with a rap sheet as long as my arm. Mostly fraud and forgery with a couple of bar fights thrown in. Smart as a whip. The kind of fella I can use and control.
“Boss, got company.”
I glance behind me to see Murphy, one of Da’s loyal soldiers who I brought in from Chicago, walking toward me with Sandro and Gunnar strolling in behind him. They’re both wearing black suit jackets, dress shirts and slacks like they’ve just come from a meeting.
“Thanks, Murphy.” He heads back to his post as I shake their hands. “Come for the VIP tour, boys?”
“Actually, we came to give you something. But,” Sandro sweeps his arms to take in the room with an amused grin. “We’d love a tour. This is classy, well done.”
“Come on, then. You can tell me while I show her off.” I lead them through the yacht, pointing out all the bells and whistles. “Of course you’re invited for the maiden voyage tomorrow night.”
“I’m not sure how Lennon would feel about that.” Sandro chuckles, peeking into one of the private dance rooms. “But I’m sure Gunnar and my brother would love to join you.” He glances at Gunnar, amusement dancing in his blue eyes.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Gunnar says with a wry grin.
We’re on the top deck, walking around the pool when Sandro’s expression turns serious. “Listen, Killian, we got some information this morning about your father’s shooting.”
