Page 62 of Gin & Trouble

Iris glanced up from the tiny kitchen table, burst into tears, and launched herself into my arms. Not that I minded, but I’d only seen her around the office and I couldn’t remember if we’d ever spoken.

Once again, my shame became a living, breathing thing. It struck me that I should know the people who worked for my family. I should know what they did for us, their stories, their freaking names.

Afraid to squeeze her too tight and hurt her, but at the same time, wanting to reassure her—and maybe myself—I held her. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

“Is Frankie—I mean Julia—okay?” Iris seemed to realize she’d hugged the boss and jumped back. Then again, her reaction could have had a little something to do with dropping the wrong name.

“She’s at my place.” I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d learned Frankie’s real name from her captors, or if she’d known far longer.

“That’s good,” she whispered. “I don’t know who these people are, but I think they would have killed her if they’d found her.”

Marco entered the already crowded room. In one quick sweep, he seemed to take in the details of the scene. Medics patching up the injured body guard. The barely conscious and bleeding Italian. Scared but safe woman. He turned to Iris. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

I wasn’t convinced. Even though I couldn’t see any bruises, didn’t mean they weren’t there.

“Tell me what happened?” His harsh tone surprised me. Iris had been through enough without him barking orders at her.

I opened my mouth to tell him to lay off, but bit my tongue when she stiffened her spine and raised her chin.

Iris wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “There were three of them in the house when I came to getJulia’sbag. Only one spoke English. He demanded I tell him where Frankie was hiding. At first, I didn’t know who he was talking about.”

Marco nodded. “How long ago did the others leave?”

“Yesterday afternoon.”

“Did they say where they were going or mention any names? Any details, even small ones, might help me find them.”

Iris sighed. “Like I said, they mostly spoke Italian.”

Marco gave her a once over. “Are you sure you’re not hurt? I can arrange for a doctor to make a house call if you’d rather not go to the emergency room.”

“I’ll be fine once I’m out of here.” Her eyes widened and she swallowed hard. “Do you know these men? Do you know where the rest of them went? I live alone. What if…”

I’d seen Frankie have the same reaction when discussing Tommaso. “Iris, you’re welcome to stay at my place with Frankie. There’s security on the building twenty-four-seven.”

“Thanks. I’d like that.” She crumbled in on herself.

Marco met my gaze and nodded to the door before turning to the Italian currently bleeding on Frankie’s floor.

Message received.

“Let’s go wait in the car. We’ll go as soon as the police say it’s okay.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and guided her to the SUV.

I only hoped the vehicle was soundproof enough to block out whatever Marco had in mind for Abruzzo’s henchman.

19

Frankie

The clockon Dante’s nightstand read two in the morning, but I didn’t stand a chance of falling back asleep. In the three days since Dante had dropped Iris off at the apartment, she’d showed no signs of wanting to go home. Not that I blamed her after what my brother’s men had put her through.

Although we’d both managed to get a little work done, we’d spent just as much time talking. Her telling me what she’d endured—questions, threats, demands. And me apologizing for sending her there, lying to her, and answering a million questions about the Cosa Nostra and my relationship with Dante.

Iris cried out in her sleep. Again.

I rested my hand on her shoulder and whispered, “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

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