The metal shuddered.
Kathleen cried out and grabbed him. Enzo wrapped an arm around her, pulling her tight, his body a shield even though he knew how useless that instinct was against men like Vitale.
“I told you I would find my own way to Mallorca,” Enzo said, keeping his voice level despite the pounding of his pulse. “There are others after the map. They were at the airport when I went to drop Kathleen off. It seemed prudent to choose another airport.”
“Paris,” Vitale repeated, thoughtfully. “Really.” The word stretched, deliberate. “It’s a bit out of the way, don’t you think?”
“Precisely why I picked it,” Enzo snapped. “Call off your men. They’re drawing attention. None of us needs that.”
Silence.
Not the crackling, distracted silence of a bad connection but the kind that made Enzo’s skin crawl. The kind that told him Vitale was deciding something.
Then, softly, “You haven’t asked about Bianca.”
Enzo felt it then, the misstep. The opening he’d handed Vitale without realizing it.
“Aren’t you worried I’ll hurt her?” Vitale continued, almost conversational. “Because you should be.”
Enzo swallowed hard, and a muscle in his jaw popped as he ground his molars. He’d fucked this up. Vitale didn’t bluff. Hedidn’t posture. If Bianca was leverage, she was already bleeding or worse.
“I am concerned about her,” Enzo said carefully. “I know exactly what you’re capable of. I’m trying to do the right thing by everyone in this equation.” He tightened his hold on Kathleen as he added, “You were the one who saddled me with Kathleen Drake.”
Kathleen stiffened slightly at his words. He squeezed her again, silently apologizing.
Vitale said nothing for a long, agonizing beat. Then, “Careful, Enzo. You don’t get to decide who carries weight and who doesn’t.”
Another pause.
“Be in Mallorca tomorrow,” Vitale said at last, voice flat now, stripped of all warmth. “Or Bianca will regret every minute you spend pretending you still have choices.”
The line went dead.
Enzo lowered the phone slowly. The train roared on, the rhythm of the tracks pounding beneath them like a countdown.
Kathleen looked up at him, her face pale but steady. “He’s not bluffing,” she said.
“No,” Enzo agreed quietly. “He never does.” He ground his teeth. “I hope the Callahans come up with some background. We’re running around in the dark here.” He captured Kathleen’s gaze. “And someone is bound to get dead.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Kathleen took a step back, freeing herself from Enzo’s grasp. The tension of the call and the bang on the door had led her to drop her guard and step into his embrace. But staying there was dangerous. It wouldn’t do to forget he was, first and foremost, a mobster. It didn’t matter how safe he made her feel, or how sexy he was; none of that could be factored in. He was, she reminded herself yet again,still just another thug in a suit.
“What do we do now?” She glanced at the door as the sound of people going by filtered through.
“Now,” Enzo said, as he glanced at his watch, “we get dinner. I’m starving.”
A laugh burbled up from her throat. “Seriously? You’re hungry at a time like this?” The way residual adrenaline still roiled in her gut, she couldn’t imagine eating.
“I have always found that stressful situations make me hungry. Plus, we have to keep our energy up. We’re going to have to make a break for it tomorrow. We can’t let Dominic and his goons follow us.” He shook his head. “I still don’t know how they found us.”
Kathleen had no clue, nor did she, at this exact minute, care. “I need to clean my feet and get changed.”
Enzo glanced down at her poor feet and nodded. “How about this? I will go get something to clean and bandage your feet, and you relax for a few minutes. You’ll be fine. I’m sure Vitale has told Dominic not to do anything until we get to Paris. He has to see if I’m telling the truth.”
“And when he finds out you aren’t? What then?”
Enzo shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s the risk we’re going to have to take.” He turned and unlocked the door. “Lock it after me,” he said and then left.
