She had a luxurious apartment in DC with presidential security, exactly what I needed right now. It would give me a few hours to recalculate my route, examine my options, and fly out of an airport that wasn’t necessarily on Achilles’s radar.
“What kind of trouble did you get yourself into now?” She opened the door when I reached the skyscraper penthouse she used whenever the White House got too crowded. I muscled past her, tossing my backpack onto her leather couch. I’d had to ditch the duffel when I realized the Camorra was after me. The less baggage, the better.
“I need a few things from the convenience store downstairs. Can one of your bodyguards fetch them?”
“I guess…” She slanted her head sideways, her face etched with concern. Frankie and President Keaton had three children, even though she was my age. They’d started young. Well, she did. He was way older than her.
I knew I was considered an attractive woman, but Frankie? Frankie looked like a Disney princess.
“What’s going on?” Her bright-blue eyes took over her face, framed by dark lashes to match her curly, long, dark hair.
“I need to disappear,” I said shortly, and because I knew where this was headed, I added, “And no, Wolfe can’t help me get out of this one. I just need your help.”
She nodded. “Okay, anything.”
I sent one of her bodyguards downstairs to buy hair color—black—large cheap sunglasses, and scissors. I couldn’t pass the latter through airport security, but I needed to have one weapon with me at all times.
Francesca applied the dye to my hair, and while I waited, I went through her closet, picking black, bland clothes and stuffing them into my backpack. I then slid into a shapeless pair of pants and a matching long-sleeved shirt. Frankie washed my hair in the sink, scrubbing my temples clean of residual color. When I looked in the bathroom mirror again, I looked like Morticia Addams. It was jarring. My hair was a part of my personality. I’d never changed its color before. But I had no choice.
“You’re freaking me out.” Frankie planted a fist to her mouth when we sat in the open-plan kitchen in front of a plate of lasagna she’d microwaved for me. I wolfed it down. “At least let me give you some cash.”
“I have more cash than I can carry.” I flashed her a thankful smile. “I’ll send word when I arrive at my destination to let you know I’m okay.”
“Is this about the Ferrantes?” she demanded, delicate brows furrowing. “My family is in the Outfit. One word and I can fix?—”
“No, no.” I put my hand on hers. I was done messing with the Ferrantes. If Achilles came for me, I’d kill him. But I was no longer on a revenge spree against the Camorra. “It’s nothing you need to worry yourself with. I’m okay. I promise.”
I spent the night holed up in Frankie’s DC apartment, studying maps and researching where to go with my new passport. Thanks to Sam Brennan’s connections, I was now Louise Fisher, twenty-four, an American born in Connecticut, taking a sabbatical from her boring marketing job.
Ireland was off the table. It’d be the first place Achilles would look for me and was small enough that he could find me. Tiernan liked the idea of Thailand—big, far, and full of islands you could disappear in. However, my gut told me not to go with anything Tiernan had suggested. I trusted my brother with my life, but something, orsomeone, in his vicinity leaked information. After all, Vello found out I went to the feds somehow.
No. I needed to be the only person to know where I was going.
At three in the morning, I narrowed it down to somewhere in mainland Europe. I could rent a car and drive freely between countries, allowing me to be one step ahead at all times.
At around four thirty in the morning, I decided the European country I was going to start with was Italy. It’d be the last place Achilles would believe I’d go for obvious reasons—it was his home turf. And I wasn’t going anywhere near Naples. Too many Camorrista eyes. Now, Northern Italy? That was another story.
I swung my gaze to the grandfather clock across the room. Twelve hours down, twelve more to go before Achilles startedto hunt me. I appreciated him giving me a head start, but also despised him for underestimating me, assuming I’d be easily tracked down. One thing I was sure of: even after all we’d been through, I knew he’d still keep his word and avoid searching for me until my time was up.
I flipped open Frankie’s laptop and checked the flights going out of Dulles International Airport to Italy. One was leaving in four hours. I purchased a ticket, putting in Louise’s information and paying through Frankie’s secured credit line.
Then I opened a new email and sent a cute little message to my number-one fanboy.
Two and a half hours later, Louise stood with her backpack, ball cap, and brand-new raven hair at the airport and boarded a plane to Venice, Italy.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Achilles
I staredat the clock as the last seconds of Tierney’s twenty-four hours ran out, then stood from my seat. My apartment probably still reeked of Hamish’s corpse, but my senses were now sharpened toward one goal—extinguishing my little flame.
Clicking my phone to life, I logged in to my email app and read her message again.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Remember When…
