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  Christ.

  Nothing like having your ass handed to you before you’ve finished your first cup of coffee. Worst part? He was fucking right. I needed him.

  4

  # seventeen

  Laura

  My teeth were chattering so hard I was surprised I hadn’t chipped one. South Lake Tahoe was cold as balls and in my haste to run out the door, I hadn’t grabbed my jacket. Quinn was going to be pissed I took off and hadn’t checked in with him. There’d been no time. After he explained why he’d searched me out to speak in person, he took me back to my house so I could grab my stuff. I was supposed to meet up with him a few hours later. He was arranging a safe house and a meeting with a forger to get me new documents. Even though I had two sets, he was always over cautious making sure I had everything I needed. I appreciated his help; I needed it. But then, as I was finishing up there was a knock—yes, the assholes knocked on my door. I was about to answer it thinking it was Quinn when I heard a thick New York accent and snuck out the bedroom window and ran.

  I had no idea how my brother had found me, or how he got his goons to California so quickly. Quinn said he’d only seen me on TV that day. We thought we had more time before I was in any real danger. I guess a million-dollar price tag made people move fast. I’d like to say it didn’t matter how he found me, just that he did, but it mattered. My life depended on being one step ahead of the soldiers that were still loyal to my brother and the family. I had been so careful, other than staying in San Francisco longer than I normally stayed in one place. I knew better than to stay and make friends or fall in love with a man I had no business getting involved with.

  Mac.

  I was almost happy I had to ditch my phone before I’d boarded the bus to Reno. I spent the six-hour bus ride debating whether or not I should’ve called Mac and told him the truth. In the end, I decided I’d made the right choice. Better to have a broken heart than get dead. Frankie would never stop looking for me. I couldn’t bring anyone into this. No one was safe when they were around me. I was a dead woman walking—stalked and hunted daily. It was only a matter of time before I slipped up and Frankie killed me. Sure, he wouldn’t be the one pulling the trigger. He was serving a life sentence without parole in a federal penitentiary, however that didn’t mean he still wasn’t the boss. He was now safely tucked away where his enemies couldn’t touch him, and he was free to conduct business without the fear of assassination.

  Between the bus ride to Reno, Nevada, the hitchhiking with a trucker to Carson City, and hitching a ride with another truck driver back into California, I finally stopped in South Lake Tahoe. I was exhausted and chilled to the bone. I couldn’t fly, couldn’t rent a car, and couldn’t book a decent hotel. I had no identification. On my way to the bus stop, I had thrown everything away in different dumpsters around San Fran. I couldn’t take the chance that Frankie knew the last alias I had been using.

  There I was lying on top of the itchy comforter in my nineteen-dollar-a-night motel too skeeved out to pull it back and lie on the sheets, contemplating my next move. I was so tired of living out of a backpack. Tired of having to be ready to move at a moment’s notice. Tired of having to look over my shoulder every goddamn day. I wanted it to end. Sometimes I thought it would be easier to just let my brother find me and finally put me out of my misery. How much longer could I do this? Seventeen moves. Seventeen names. Seven-fucking-teen times having to start my life over from scratch. I owned nothing, had nothing, and would never have anything.

  I hated my brother, despised everything my family stood for, and loathed the mafia. I’d lost everything because of the family I was born into. I tossed and turned the rest of the night feeling sorry for myself, wishing that I was back in my little guesthouse in San Francisco wrapped in Mac’s arms. I had fought him every time he tried to cuddle with me, bristling at his gentle touches and soft kisses. But the truth was I desperately wanted them. I wanted to stay wrapped in him for the rest of my life.

  By the time the sun was up, I was dressed and ready to hitch a ride to my next destination. I wish I could’ve gone someplace warm and sunny but the first thing that Quinn taught me was I had to do pretty much the opposite of what Harper Russo would’ve done. It was no secret I hated New York winters and complained the moment the temperature dropped below sixty degrees. My brother would expect me to hide where there was warm weather. Northern California had been the closest I had come to warmth since I started running. I had to call Quinn and see if he could get me a passport. I had never been able to afford one. A birth certificate, social security card, and driver’s license were easy to find. A passport? That was big money, and I would need a really good forger to manage one that wouldn’t get me arrested. It was time for me to leave the country. I was running out of places to hide—not only from my brother but from anyone I had met in the last few years. I couldn’t begin to remember all the aliases I had used, or the people I had met.

  After grabbing a cup of coffee at the truck stop in front of the hotel, I was still actively hating my life and mentally grumbling about having to once again run, when I realized that leaving a location had never hurt this bad. In the past, it had been annoying; an irritation that I had to upend my life. Never had it been cutting and painful. And it wasn’t just Mac I missed, though that did hurt the most. I missed Ava, too. Why did I have to get involved? I had always been so careful not to get close to anyone.

  I went in search of an ever-disappearing pay phone. With a pocketful of change, I dialed Quinn’s number and waited for the recording to tell me how much money to deposit. Six rings later, it went to voice mail. Shit. He must’ve been neck deep in work if he wasn’t answering. With my hand still on the receiver I stared at the phone. What could it hurt? Even if the call was somehow traced, I’d be long gone by the time someone got to Tahoe to look for me. I had already broken all the rules when it came to Mac. What was one more?

  It was like a compulsion; I had to do it. I picked up the handset again, cradling it between my ear and my shoulder. With each push of a silver number I started to question why I was torturing myself. It wasn’t like I was actually going to speak. I just wanted to hear his growly voice.

  The phone rang, and my heart pounded in my chest, threatening to explode. “Mac,” he greeted. I remained quiet, praying he would repeat his name so I could hear it one more time. Commit it to memory so I could recall it when I was lonely and ready to give up. “Hello?” he said again, “I can hear you breathing.” I jumped and almost dropped the receiver. I quickly placed my hand over the mouthpiece. “I can help you,” he said, lowering his voice. “Just tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you.” He must’ve thought I was someone else, maybe one of the victims he was working with. I felt guilty for a moment, but the feeling vanished as fast as it came. I needed this, I needed all the words I could get from him. “Laura, please.” I hadn’t meant to let out a whimper, but he heard. “I know everything. I can help.”

  He knew? There was no way; it was impossible.

  “How?” I squeaked out.

  “Trust me, baby, I can make you safe,” he pleaded.

  “You can’t. No one can. Just forget me, Mac.”

  I pulled the phone away from my ear, getting ready to hang up, but his words stopped me. “I’ll never stop looking for you. I’ll go to the ends of the earth to find you.”

  I didn’t answer. There was nothing I could say to that. Unlike when my brother made the same promise, Mac’s earnest vow filled me with warmth. Someplace deep inside I wished he would find me. I wished he could make this all go away.

  5

  deal with the devil

  Mac

  I knew what I’d find when I went to Laura’s house yesterday, but I still had to go. I needed to see it for myself.

  She was really gone.

  With a knot in my gut I searched her almost empty house from top to bottom. I don’t know what I was looking for, but I searched anyway. Quinn had filled me in enough that I cou
ld get the rest of the information on my own. Yet, I still combed over her home, searching for some clue as to where she would’ve gone. There was nothing. Quinn was right—he’d taught her well.

  The kitchen, dining area, and living room all looked exactly like it had the last time I’d been there for dinner. It was hard to believe it was only days before we’d sat on her couch and watched a movie, ending the evening in her bed.

  Her bedroom was the only room that had changed. She’d left in a hurry, not even bothering to empty out her drawers. The closet still had clothes hanging in it as well. A beautiful red gown hung in the back. I had never seen Laura wear anything other than casual clothes, but the dress was neatly preserved in a plastic garment bag. I spent hours at her house packing the rest of her clothes, shoes, and what few personal items she’d left behind. I would store them at my house until I found her. I’d finished loading the boxes into the back of my truck when, on an impulse, I pulled her sheets off the bed, deciding I wanted those, too. In my swiftness to yank the fitted sheet off the bed I moved the mattress and when I went to right it, I thanked all things holy that I had turned into a pussy and wanted to keep Laura’s sheets because they smelled like her. Under her mattress was her grandmother’s scarlet emerald necklace.

  It was then the gravity of the situation hit me. How scared Laura must’ve been to run and not take the time to pack something that meant so much to her. I also realized I needed help; I couldn’t find her on my own. But before I could reach out to Reid, I had to make a few calls. I didn’t want to pull him into this anymore than I had to and put Ava and the kids in danger. Reid had a family now, and I wouldn’t allow anything to screw that up.

  It had taken me two phone calls and thirty minutes to find Nico Tuscani. Word on the street was that Nico was spending time in the Bay Area taking the necessary steps to rebuild the family name that Nico’s father had all but ruined. With Nico’s ties to New York I needed him, and I was about to make a deal with the devil. I had spent last night contemplating just how far I’d be willing go for Nico’s help. There would be a hefty price–I was sure of it. No one asked for a favor from a Capo without knowing they were signing their soul over. By the end of the night I had resigned myself to the fact that the Tuscani family would own me. And I was okay with that if it meant that Harper Russo would be safe.

  When I stepped into Nonna Maria’s I waited, allowing my eyes to adjust to the low light of the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. The deep maroons of the high back booths and traditional Italian décor transported me from downtown San Francisco to the streets of Sicily. I scanned the almost empty dining room and found Nico in the corner, his back to the wall, giving him the perfect view of the restaurant. He had one man that I could see with him, sitting to his left. They were both looking down, reading what looked like the newspaper from this distance.

  Without waiting for the hostess, I moved toward the table and both men’s gazes came up, assessing. The man with Nico stood, his hand going to the waistband of his slacks. I was in plain clothes, with my shield and gun on clear display. There was no reason to hide who I was.

  “A word?” I asked Nico.

  His eyes narrowed on me and without breaking contact he ordered, “Sit, Branson. I don’t think the detective means me any harm.” Nico chuckled, and Branson took his seat. “Aiden Mackenzie, what can I do for you?” Nico asked.

  I didn’t bother giving any thought to how the man knew my name. I suppose in his business it was paramount to know local law enforcement. As much as I wanted to get straight to it, I had to make a few things clear. “I’m not here on police business. I’d like to speak to you someplace private.”

  Nico continued to look at me. “If you’re not here on official business, then why the fuck are you interrupting my lunch?”

  If I didn’t need this asshole so badly, I’d love nothing more than to tell him where he could shove his fucking lunch. “I want to talk to you about Frankie Russo.”

  I watched Nico closely as his nostrils flared the smallest fraction before he schooled his features once again, looking impassive. Perhaps I wouldn’t owe quite so much for this favor; it seemed that Nico wasn’t fond of little Frankie.

  “What about him?”

  I had Branson’s attention, too. He had abandoned pretending to read the paper and was now giving me his full attention.

  “What if I told you I had a few connections at the Hudson Federal Pen and I could make it real easy for one of your men to have a little chat with Frankie?”

  Nico brought his napkin to his mouth and dabbed an invisible crumb off his lips before he set the napkin down and pushed his plate away. “I’d say I don’t conduct business with law enforcement. Not to mention, I don’t know a Frankie Russo. You must have me mistaken.”

  “Right. How ‘bout this. You know Blaze, the President of Iron Claw MC? Call him and ask about me. After that conversation, if your memory say, gets jarred, and you remember who Frankie fucking Russo is—call me. I’m not interested in playing games. I walked in here today my shield on display as a show of respect. I have no interest in bullshitting you. If I don’t get a call you have to know, I’ll be extending this offer to one of your associates. It doesn’t matter to me who disposes of the asshole, only that he is taken care of. But, I think it matters to you. After all, the Russos still control most of Nassau and Suffolk counties. If I’m not mistaken, that territory has been very profitable for many years. It’d be a shame if one of your competitors got their hands on it.”

  “You fucking threatening me?” Nico stood and faced me.

  “Just stating facts. Blaze knows how to get ahold of me. There’s a two-hour clock on this. After that, I’m making some calls.”

  I didn’t wait for Nico’s response. I didn’t have time. I needed to talk to Reid and find Laura. Not to mention, Nicole Brown still hadn’t shown up or called in. The chief was having a shit hemorrhage.

  On the drive to Reid’s, I contemplated how much I was going to tell him. By the time I was walking into his office I had decided on the whole truth. It was my best option.

  Roni, Reid’s pretty receptionist, was on the phone and waved me back to Reid’s office. As I walked down the corridor leading to Reid’s office, I stopped by a newly hung framed photograph. Most of the pictures in the hallway were of Reid’s military friends. There was a plaque that hung above the frames that read, Gone but not Forgotten. The image that had garnered my attention was of Rick–a friend and one of Reid’s employees. He had died trying to save Ava and JJ from a crazy stalker hell bent on taking her. The weight of the guilt was crushing every time I thought of Rick and my failure to protect Ava. I had spent five years trying to help her find the light after Jacob died. I watched her struggle and rage against me. In the end, I couldn’t keep her safe and Rick died trying. The only person that could get through to Ava was Reid; I hadn’t been enough. Not that I loved Ava the way Reid did. She was my dead best friend’s wife, the woman I promised to take care of if he couldn’t. I failed.

  Reid’s door swung open and his large frame came into view. “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

  “Just about to knock on your door. You got a minute?”

  “I have a few hours to kill. What’s on your mind?”

  He stepped back into his office and I followed him in, closing the door behind me. His office was another thing that had changed over the last year. Family pictures were now hung. Drawings and crafts that Melody and JJ had made were taped to the walls. Months ago he moved a table into the corner, so JJ could have a desk to do homework at when Reid had to pick him up from school for Ava. I couldn’t lie and say it didn’t gut me when Ava had started cutting me out of her and JJ’s daily lives. Even before Reid had pulled his head out of his ass and claimed Ava, she was calling on him more and me less for help. Logically, I understood why Ava was trying to distance herself from me. I refused to allow her to pull into herself. I made her face her pain and grief and with every passing year she h
ad hated me more and more for it.

  I could take her anger. What I couldn’t take was how broken and lost she was. She was a landmine and Reid was the one to finally disarm her.

  “Don’t go there, Mac,” Reid said as he sat behind his desk.

  “Go where?” I asked.

  “The same fucking place you go every time you think about Rick. He died being the man we all knew him to be. Nothing that happened was your fault, or mine.” I nodded in agreement even though I thought what he was saying was bullshit. I didn’t have time for the argument. “On a side note, what the hell is up with the media dicks reporting the PC’s daughter has been kidnapped before it’s even hit radar?”

  “Fuck if I know. Chief hadn’t even reported it before I saw it on the news. Someone in his detail leaked it. There is no other way that the media would’ve caught the story.”

  “Unless Brown leaked it himself,” Reid countered.

  “Walk me through that. Why would Brown want the public to know his daughter was taken before his own department? A cop’s family is in harm’s way–all hands are on deck.”

  “Media doesn’t ask the hard questions like; who would gain from the PC’s daughter being kidnapped or, more to the point, who did the PC piss off enough to take his daughter? They just take a snippet and run with it–no facts necessary. Maybe the PC wanted it public because he needs the diversion and wanted the public on high alert. The city of San Francisco has now been tasked with finding Chief Brown’s kidnapped daughter. Every wannabe sleuth out there is going to be looking. If nothing else but to get their name in the paper and a photo op with the PC.”