Carlotta’s jaw worked. The gun wavered.
Then, abruptly, she lowered it.
Without another word, she turned and ran, vanishing into the hedges just as the sirens grew louder.
Kathleen let out a pent-up breath in a rush.
“She’s right, we all need to split.” Enzo turned to Kathleen. “Let’s?—"
“There’s still the matter of the treasure,” Griff commented, waving his gun slightly.
The sound of the sirens was much louder now, and they had stopped moving. The cops had to be stopped on a nearby street.
“We don’t have time for this bullshit,” Enzo growled. “Let’s go. You,” he pointed at Griff, “come with us. She,” he said, pointing at Mackie, “can go with them,” he directed as he indicated Logan and Alex, who’d finally come out of hiding. “I’ll text where to meet, and we can sort shit out there. You can tell your brother,” he commented as he stared at Griff. “Take it or leave it because I’m sure as shit not getting arrested.”
Griff grimaced. He looked at Mackie, who gave him a curt nod. “Fine, then,” Griff said, “But if you?—”
“Fuck off. We don’t have time for bullshit.”
Kathleen’s heart slammed against her ribcage as the shouts in French reached them. “We have to go,” she blurted.
Enzo grabbed her hand and turned toward the hedges. “Move!” he yelled as he pulled her along with him.
Kathleen ran to keep up. This had all turned to shit so fast. They needed to get out of there. Away from all of this. Even then, it wasn’t over. And Kathleen knew deep in her bones that the worst part of all this was still to come.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Enzo exhaled slowly as the three siblings faced down the Callahans, anger radiating from them like heat off pavement. He’d hoped this could be handled cleanly, quickly. Instead, it was turning into something messier than a pig rolling in mud.
It didn’t help that the police and palace security had forced them all to scatter. They were lucky to have gotten out of Versailles at all.
Worry settled heavily in his chest.
Matteo was gone.
They’d only discovered it when he, Kathleen, Mitch, and Griff had doubled back to the hedge where Mitch had stashed him. An empty space. No body.
The traitor’s disappearance didn’t bode well.
God only knew what Matteo, loose in the world, would bring down on them next.
They’d left Versailles separately and regrouped here—standing on the narrow strip of grass and sidewalk in the median of Avenue de Saint-Cloud. Traffic hissed past on either side, carsblurring as they sped by, the ordinary world pressing in as if nothing monumental had just happened a few blocks away.
Enzo glanced at Kathleen.
She looked exhausted. Pale. Dark circles smudged beneath her eyes. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving the damage behind. Guilt washed over him, sharp and unwelcome.
He should have listened to Jamie. Put her on a plane the moment she’d been mugged. Maybe all of this could have been avoided.
Or, more likely, not.
If Vitale had orchestrated this from the start, he would’ve accounted for contingencies. He always did. Kathleen had been a pawn—useful, disposable—and now it was breaking her.
Enzo needed her out of this. Out of France. Out of reach. The primal urge to fight to keep this woman safe nearly made him unsteady on his feet.
The fact that they’d only met a few days ago felt unreal. He’d never believed in love at first sight or any of that romantic bullshit, but here he was—thinking about her safety before his own, imagining a life that had no business forming in the middle of chaos.
Stupido!
