Page 125 of His Dark Vendetta

Marco snubbed out his cigar, threw his ankle across his knee, and folded his hands in his lap. “Siobhán is family. Her brother is not.” His expression remained implacable, his words cold as ice.

“I understand,” I said. “So will Siobhán. She might not like our world, but she understands it.”

“How did she take it?” He wasn’t talking about the attack.

“Better than I hoped.”

“She’s strong.”

“She is.”

“Strong enough for what comes next?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Stronger,” I said with confidence.

Marco picked up his whiskey and swirled it in his glass. I finished my scotch.

The muscle in his jaw ticked. “We’ll find her,” he said, his voice rough but resolute. “We’ll get her back.”

“We will,” I said, unable to contemplate any other truth. I couldn’t lose another parent. “Vito too.”

He nodded and drained the rest of his drink. “It’s good to have you back, Luca.”

Emotion clogged my throat. I cleared it and swallowed. “It’s good to be back, Zio. I won’t let you down.”

Marco stood, and I followed. He clasped my shoulders and that muscle in his jaw worked to keep up the strong front he put on for all of us. He patted me on the cheek. “So che non lo farai, figliolo. I know you won’t.”

ChapterThirty-Nine

Siobhán

The heatwave broke overnight, and a warm breeze wafted through the trees surrounding Birch Pond. I closed my eyes and turned my face up. I needed its gentle touch, something to calm my nerves while I waited at Luca’s front door.

I barely slept the night before, even with Anna and Sophie curled up next to me, rattled from the attack and Vinnie’s off-hand comment about who he suspected kidnapped Vito and Gina. My knotted stomach forced me to graduate from Tums to Maalox, and the morning sickness didn’t help. I was exhausted and queasy, but I needed to know that Luca was okay. And break the news that I was leaving. Better to tell him now. Delaying the inevitable would only make our separation more painful.

The deadbolt clicked, and the door opened. Luca stood in the foyer wearing basketball shorts, a sleeveless undershirt, and a surprised smile.

“Siobhán,” he said, breathless. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

He looked past me, and I glanced over my shoulder to where Paulie leaned against the hood of Marco’s Range Rover. Marco still had me under lockdown, but I wasn’t complaining. My nerves were shot. Luca lifted his chin, and Paulie did the same.

“I was going to call,” he said, “but I thought I should let you rest. You mentioned morning sickness.” His smile turned sheepish, almost nervous.

“I know. Sorry for the pop in. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he ushered me inside. “Fully healed. Thanks to you.”

I kicked off my sandals and looked at him with an impish smile. “No shoes.”

He wrapped an arm around my waist. “Come here,” he said and pulled me into him. He kissed me passionately, furiously, love and relief pouring out through each caress of his lips and swipe of his tongue. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back with equal fervor.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against mine. “I’m so glad you’re here.” The hope and love radiating from his smile warmed and broke my heart.

His hair was half pulled up, and loose strands framed his handsome face. I pushed them aside with my fingernails and brushed my thumb across a creamy yellow smudge at the top of his cheekbone near his left temple. “What’s this?”

He glanced over his shoulder, hesitating. “I wanted to surprise you when it was finished, but since you’re here…” He took my hand and led me upstairs.

Halfway up, I registered the smell of wet paint. It got stronger as we walked down the hall. The door to the room across from the master had always been closed, but now classical violin emanated through the half-opened door.

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