Page 62 of Stolen Sin

“You’re right,” he says, kissing my cheek. “I don’t think it’ll come to that, but I’ll make a call and send some guys over to your father’s place. I’ll make sure they have orders to keep anyone and everyone away from your old man, no matter what. I’ll send reliable people.”

I shake my head and grip his arms. “We have to go. I have to go. I can’t?—”

“I’m sorry,” he says and pulls me to his chest. “I’m sorry, baby, but I can’t let you do that. If they’re after him, I won’t risk putting you in harm’s way.”

“Then what are we going to do?” I feel so desperate and broken as my life spirals out of control. There’s nothing I can do to fix things. The problems are too big, too sprawling, and I have to trust that Simon can find a way to turn this nightmare around.

“We’re leaving the oasis. I have a place where we can hide out for a while, a place nobody knows about. I’m pretty sure everyone in the family’s got a little hole just in case shit goes down.” His smile is tense and I can tell he’s trying to keep me calm, and it’s honestly working. His presence and his touch have a centering effect. “Then we’ll figure out what comes next.”

I lean my forehead against his chest and listen to the steady rhythm of his heart. “That’s pretty vague. It would feel a lot better if you told me you knew exactly how to fix things with your dad.”

“If I knew, I would’ve done it already.” His arms squeeze around my body. “But I’ll figure it out. I promise you, baby, you’ll be safe, and we’ll be together.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to cry. “That’s the most obvious solution, isn’t it? You can just divorce me. Maybe you don’t marry that other girl, but?—”

“That’s not an option.” His tone is harder than I expect and I look up at him. He’s staring down at me, jaw set and eyes hard. His thumb brushes against my lips. “I’ve grown very fond of you, Emily Bianco, and I plan on keeping you around, so no more talk of divorce, okay?”

I nod slowly. I want to do something to help, and if sacrificing this relationship is the one reasonable move I can make, then why not try? But if I’m honest with myself, I don’t want to end this either, despite all the madness happening around us right now.

Because I finally feel like myself when I’m around Simon. Ever since that stuff with my dad happened, I’ve been staggering through life feeling blind and deaf and dumb to the world, but Simon brought me back and made me look around again. I feel like I can breathe with him, like I can figure out who I am and what I want when he’s around. And the thought of losing that is like a knife in my side.

Simon goes to Davide and they discuss logistics. I sit with Stefania in the kitchen area and split a bottle of wine. As night falls, and nothing else happens, Simon finally decides that it’s time to take a chance.

“I’ll carry you to the car,” he says, holding my hand tightly. “Then we’ll go for the exit. If someone tries to stop us, we keep on driving no matter what, and if I tell you to get down on the floor, you do it without question. Do you understand?”

I don’t love the thought of getting shot at, but I nod. “I understand.”

He kisses me, and as all the grim-faced men wish us luck, I start to wonder how dangerous this is about to be.

Chapter 38

Emily

I sit down low in the passenger seat as Simon heads towards the oasis’s exit.

There was nobody outside when we hustled to his truck. No guards, no family, no random thugs with guns, just the silence of a quiet city street. Simon’s grip on the steering wheel turns his knuckles white, and I taste anxiety in the back of my throat. He gestures for me to keep low, and I sink down until I’m nearly on the floor. His eyes are plastered straight ahead.

Normally, when we leave the oasis, Simon stops and chats with the men stationed at the entrance. Everyone seems to like my husband, or at least they’re really good at pretending. I’ve watched Simon hold long conversations with random guards more than once, and a few times he’s even sent money to their families after hearing horror stories about illness and lost jobs.

Which is why it feels so strange when we reach the end of the oasis and he doesn’t slow down. Nobody comes out to stop him though, and we merge onto the next street, Simon hitting the gas and speeding away from the cluster of houses his family controls, the only home he’s ever known.

We don’t speak for a couple of minutes. I sit up and watch the city pass by, starting to feel like this was a bit anticlimactic, when Simon breaks the silence.

“We’re being followed,” he says, staring into the rearview mirror.

The next few hours are spent careening around Chicago from one neighborhood to the next. Even though I grew up in this town, I feel lost almost right away, as Simon works to shake the tail then makes sure they can’t pick him up again. At first, it’s exhilarating, like we’re living in a spy novel, but when ten minutes turns into an hour, and an hour turns into two, I’m ready for the damn book to be done.

It’s after three in the morning when we pull into the parking lot of a boring-looking apartment complex on the edge of the river. The structure looks new, like it was built in the last few years. It’s big and glass with lots of right angles and exposed wood. Simon rolls the truck to the far side of the lot away from the street and parks.

I’m exhausted. My adrenaline is all gone and I’m running on fumes. I lean on Simon and limp along on my throbbing ankle as he uses a fob to get in through the front door. It’s a short ride on the elevator to the third floor and into a nondescript apartment in the very center of the hallway.

He announces that we’re home and tosses the duffel bag on a couch. The place looks like it came fully furnished already. Everything smells like a furniture warehouse, like it hasn’t been touched at all. The kitchen’s gleaming and the bathroom is pristine. I shuffle into the bedroom and collapse, pulling my knees up to my chest, and squeeze my eyes closed.

Simon climbs in behind me. I exhale as he wraps an arm across my body and pulls me tightly against him, his breath playing against my neck.

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you,” he says very softly. I turn to face him and can only just make out his expression in the dark. There’s the dull hum of the air conditioning filtering in from a nearby vent, and everything feels like a dream, a strange dream.

“I feel like I’ve been doing this for a long time now,” I whisper and touch his cheek with the back of my hand just to feel his scruff and the heat of his skin. “Ever since my dad got scammed, I feel like I’ve been running from one fire to the next. I’m just waiting for someone to reach out and grab me, to rip me off, to take away everything I have, and you know what’s sad? I feel worse for whoever decides I’m worth their time. Because I have nothing.”

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