I told him we were going on a vacation. Told him my friend from before he was born had invited us to New York for the summer, and it would be an adventure, just the two of us exploring the big city.
The lies came so easily. Too easily.
But what was I supposed to say?“We’re running for our lives, baby. The other women who were trapped with me six years ago are all dead and we’re probably next. So we’re going tostay with a dangerous man who kills people for a living and hope he doesn’t murder us when he finds out you’re his son.”
No. Better to let him think this is an adventure.
Better to let him stay innocent for as long as possible.
“Tell me about your friend again,” Luca says, turning back to me. “The one we’re visiting.”
I’ve told him this story three times already since we got on the plane, but he loves hearing about people. Loves building pictures in his mind of who they are and what they’re like.
“His name is Dante. He’s someone I knew a long time ago, before you were born.”
“Is he nice?”
The question makes my chest tight.
Nice? Dante Moretti? The man who put three bullets in Antonio Marchetti without blinking? Who looked at me with empty eyes and told me to disappear?
But also the man who could have killed me and didn’t. Who let me run when he should have finished the job.
“He’s…complicated,” I say carefully. “But he’s very smart and very powerful. And he’ll keep us safe while we’re visiting.”
“Safe from what?”
Damn. He’s too observant sometimes.
“Just safe in general. New York is a big city. It’s good to have a friend who knows it well.”
Luca nods like this makes perfect sense. “Does he have any kids?”
The question throws me off balance, and for a moment, I’m at a loss for words.
“No,” I manage. “No kids.”
Not that he knows about, anyway.
God, what am I doing? What am I walking us into?
Six years. Six years I’ve kept this secret. Six years of telling myself I made the right choice by running, by hiding, by raising Luca alone.
And now I’m about to destroy all of that because I’m desperate and terrified and out of options.
Tom’s folder is in my purse. The newspaper clippings about five dead women. Five accidents that weren’t accidents. Five murders staged to look like natural causes.
Someone is hunting us down systematically. And I’m the last one left.
I couldn’t stay in Portland. Couldn’t keep pretending we were safe when clearly we weren’t. That SUV that tried to run us off the road was a message.“We know where you are.”
So I called the only person I could think of who might be powerful enough to protect us.
And lied about having information I don’t actually have.
I don’t know anything. I was too busy fighting for my life that night to pay attention to whatever Antonio said before he died.I didn’t see where any ledger was hidden. I don’t have any valuable secrets.
But Dante doesn’t know that yet.
