Page 103 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

“I’ll give you privacy for your reunion.” Nikolai walks to the door. “Five minutes. I expect it done when I return.”

The door closes with a soft click that sounds impossibly loud in the sudden silence. Casey stands frozen, the gun pointed vaguely in my direction, his face a mask of terror.

“Casey,” I say softly, keeping my voice calm despite the hammering of my heart. “Casey, look at me.”

His eyes meet mine, wild with panic.

“You don’t want to do this.” I maintain eye contact, remembering my training in de-escalating agitated patients. “This isn’t you.”

“You don’t know what he’ll do to me if I don’t.” The gun wavers in his grip.

“I know you. Whatever else happened between us, you’re not a killer.” I take a careful step toward him. “Casey, please.”

“Stop saying my name like that.” His voice cracks.

“Like what?”

“Like you still care what happens to me.”

I take another small step. “I forgive you, Casey.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “What?”

“For stealing my inheritance. For lying to me. For all of it.” The words come out with surprising ease. “It seems so insignificant now, compared to everything else.”

“How can you say that? I ruined your life.”

“No, you didn’t. You changed my path.” I gesture to my stomach. “Look where I am now. I’m married. I’m having a baby. None of that would have happened if you hadn’t left.”

He lowers the gun slightly. “You can’t mean that.”

“I do. Our relationship feels like it happened to someone else, in another lifetime.” I take another step closer. “If this ends badly, will you tell Damir something for me?”

The gun drops a few more inches. “What?”

“Tell him I love him. Tell him our son and I love him.”

His emotional defenses crumble completely, and the gun hangs limply at his side. “I never wanted you to get hurt. I just wanted Damir to suffer. I know he’s been coming after me and caused all my recent troubles.” He sounds petulant for a moment, but the gun remains limp at his side. “I thought if I could get close to you again, I could access his accounts through you while placating Nikolai.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Casey runs a hand through his hair. “Nikolai is going to kill us both no matter what I do. He never intended to let either of us walk out of here.”

“Then help me.” I hold up my zip-tied wrists. “Cut these off.”

Casey hesitates, then nods. He sets the gun on a nearby table and pulls a small pocketknife from his jeans. With shaking hands, he slices through the plastic binding my wrists. The relief is immediate as blood rushes back into my fingers.

“I have a plan,” he whispers, glancing nervously at the door. “I’ll create a distraction. Fire a couple shots at the guards in the hallway and miss on purpose. While they’re scrambling, you slip out and make a run for it.”

“Where would I go? We’re miles from anywhere.”

“There’s a boathouse down by the water. Small motorboat. Keys are in the ignition. I saw it earlier when I was scoping out an escape plan.” He gives me a crooked smile. “You might as well take it, since I’m not getting out of here. Head east along the shoreline, and you’ll hit a marina in about twenty minutes.”

I rub my wrists, considering. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because I owe you that much, and I don’t want your death on my conscience. I’m a bad guy, but I’m not evil.” He retrieves the gun. “Get ready by the door. When I start shooting, count to three, then go.”

I nod, moving into position. Casey takes a deep breath, then opens the door and fires two shots down the hallway. The sound is deafening in the confined space. Shouts of alarm erupt from the guards.

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