“He’s a good man,” I assure her.
Her small fingers curl into my shirt. “How do you know that?”
I look across at Augusto, the light catching his silver stubble, illuminating the rounded muscle beneath his shirt and my heart flutters.
“It’s complicated. I just do.”
I turn back to Augusto. “Should we just make a run for your car?”
His eyes are dark and hooded and he shakes his head. “The valet parked it behind two other cars—I can’t get it out. Besides, if we walk out there, we put ourselves in direct firing lines.”
“But there doesn’t seem to be anyone around,” I say, gesturing to the quiet space outside the window.
“That’s what they want us to think.”
Paige tightens her grip. “Mom…”
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “Augusto knows what he’s doing.”
“But how? Why does he have a gun? Why was—” she stops mid-sentence, swallows and considers her words. “Why wasDadso pissed at him?”
I run a hand through her hair and bring her head into my chest. I can’t lie to her, not when we’re hiding out in a hotel suite because our protector just shot three people dead, after her own father tried to kill her first.
Howis this my life?
“Augusto works for the Di Santo’s,” I say, slowly.
“The what?”
“Cristiano Di Santo,” I try again, knowing she’s definitely heard about the notorious crime family on the news. “He works for Cristiano Di Santo.”
She still looks at me like I’ve grown four heads.
I sigh, tightly. “He’s in the mafia, Paige.”
Her eyes glisten with terror. “What?” She turns her gaze to Augusto who has resumed his pacing. “Is it true?”
He darts her a sympathetic look. “Yeah.”
“Um, right.” Her gaze drops to the floor like she’s stunned. “That’s kinda… cool.”
I glare at her. “Cool?”
Guilt flickers over her. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m—I’m just in shock.”
When I cut to Augusto, he arches a brow. “I like her.”
“When are they getting here?” I change the subject. “The… I mean… whoever’s coming.”
“They’re two minutes away.”
Relief seeps out of me. “Oh, thank God,” I breathe. “Come on,” I say, pulling Paige to her feet. “We need to be ready to move.”
Gerard’s blood has formed a sizeable puddle around his body and we have to side-step it to get to the window.
As we’re looking out at the clear, empty, peaceful gardens, a loud bang rattles the building.
“They’re here,” Augusto says, calmly. “Wait while I check the corridor. Don’t stand too close to the window.”
