Page 115 of Merciless Daddy

Sal looked out the window, but I saw the emotion on his face.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Lake Geneva.”

“Wisconsin?”

“Yes. Caruso property. Old. Gianni has never encountered the owner or the company.”

“How long?”

“About ninety minutes if traffic cooperates. Two hours if it behaves like traffic.”

“And Kiryl?”

“He’s travelling separately.”

“Where?”

“Currently on the ground. His Atlantic flight was a false route. It landed in Canada, filed onward, then changed passengers. Tonio and Pietro brought him back across the border using different documents.”

My head turned sharply. “He crossed twice in one day?”

“He slept through most of it.”

“Tonio fed him?”

“Continuously, according to Tonio.”

That sounded plausible.

“We’ll bring him to us, so we’re safe. Then we’ll work out how to take down Gianni Scordato.”

Buildings became low suburbs. Suburbs became bare trees, wet fields, and long roads cut beneath a pale sky. The driver changed routes twice without warning, but Sal explained each turn.

“Vehicle behind us for six miles.”

“Is it following?”

“Probably not. But it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

The car disappeared after the second deviation.

Sal’s hand rested on the center console. Large. Still. A faint red line crossed his palm where my nail had cut him during Kiryl’s escape.

I put my fingers over it, and traced the line.

His fingers turned beneath mine, and our palms met.

He did not lace our hands. I did it.

The change in him was small. His jaw tightened. His thumb moved once along mine. My body responded as if he had touched me beneath my clothes.

I remembered lying across his lap. The controlled force of his hand. His erection pressed beneath me. His refusal when I guided him toward my wet pussy.

Not tonight.

The denial had been care. I understood that.