Page 21 of Final Reckoning

“Quinn,” he groans. “Fuck.” And then he yanks free and coats my ass and my back.

Despite the bliss radiating through my body, I’m overcome by a deep sadness. It’s disorienting to feel them both at once. And shocking to understand the source of my melancholy.

I don’t want Matteo to pull out. I want him to come in me. Even if it means I get pregnant.

This is crazy, so I try to give myself a stern talking to. You don’t want to be a single mom. The Adamos might pressure him to marry you, and then he’ll resent you and the baby.

It helps, a little. But it doesn’t change the quiet longing that’s taken root in me.

“You okay?” he says.

“Yeah. Fine.”

I’m a terrible liar. He tugs me back to lean against him. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No.” I squeeze his hand. “I just – got emotional all of a sudden.”

Matteo frowns. “Quinn–”

“I’m okay. Really.”

He lets it drop, but he doesn’t look happy about it.

After we’ve cleaned up again – thank goodness for those baby wipes – he says, “I need to get near a cell tower. I’ll drive, and you keep an eye on the phone and let me know as soon as there’s a decent signal.”

“All right.” Instead of putting my jeans on again, I pull on one of his pairs of sweats. They’re too big, but they’re warmer … and easier to take off again. My shirt and his flannel shirt, and my socks and boots, and I’m good to go.

I help Matteo on with one of his shirts. In case we have to drive close enough to civilization that we’re spotted, he doesn’t want to be conspicuous. Then we transfer the few items that are on the picnic table into the back of the SUV and take our seats up front.

Driving away from the campsite, I’m struck with a surreal feeling, as if we were in an alternate reality and are re-entering our own dimension. Except for the unfamiliar tenderness in my body, I could almost believe I dreamed the whole thing.

The scenery here is beautiful, towering trees and rugged rock formations. We’re still in what feels like the middle of nowhere when three bars show on the phone. “Signal,” I announce, and Matteo immediately pulls over.

He taps in a number, listens, and his expression darkens. “What?” I ask.

“My security system’s offline. Fuck.”

I don’t want to be yakking in his ear while he’s dealing with serious stuff, but I can’t help being curious, so I venture a tentative question. “What system?”

Matteo glances at me while he’s punching in another number. “House I was renting. Had a bad feeling last night, didn’t go there. It might be compromised.”

He holds the phone to his ear. “Lieutenant. What’s the word? Fuck. Even with all that … yeah. Fuckin’ lawyers.”

A pause, then, “Seems likely. Listen, did you take the server offline? No; I just tried to access my security and couldn’t. Good chance the server’s compromised. Better check everything and shut it down.

“Right. Talk to you soon.” He ends the call and rubs a hand over his face.

“Bad news?”

“Santiago’s already out on bail. The judge decided he wasn’t a flight risk despite his high liquidity and international connections.”

“That seems … unwise.”

A faint smile crosses his face. “Yeah. But he’s under heavy surveillance and shows no signs of preparing to go anywhere. My lieutenant thinks it’s because he’s gunning for me. And you, and your sisters, and the whole damn Adamo clan.”

“We knew he was crazy.”

“Yeah, but he’s the functional kind of crazy. Capable of acting on it and highly inclined to do so.”

He falls silent, his gaze fixed on some unseen horizon. I let him think. When he looks at me again, the cold determination in his eyes scares me.

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