Page 53 of Ruthless Betrayal

But I don’t think I hate him anymore.

We fall into a pattern that involves Rio disappearing during the day to work in the city and returning to the estate—and to our bed—at night. I can almost convince myself that we are living a normal and comfortable married life.

Almost.

If it weren’t for the increased security around the estate and the growing tension I sense within Rio every time he arrives home. He’s obviously still concerned about whatever upheaval is going on in his business, but he’s trying not to let me see it.

Despite the underlying tension, he is giving me more freedom these days than he did before the Washington trip. That may be partly because Angelica is in residence and clearly not happy to hang out at home, and she is not shy about making her wishes known. She wants me to accompany her on her various outings, and won’t take no for an answer.

If I’d had a younger sister, I would have loved her to turn out just like Angel. Sweet and kind-natured, but with a hidden fire in her belly that doesn’t put up with any nonsense.

I suspect Rio is going to have his work cut out for him if he tries to choose her a husband as elderly as Gianni Martelli’s new son-in-law-to-be.

The day Emilia turns six months old, Angel convinces her brother to let us have a trip into the city. Not to visit him at the club, but to pretend we’re tourists and do the Freedom Trail, with the plan being to grab lunch at a café along the way.

It sounds so “normal” that tears unexpectedly burn my eyes when Angel confirms that Rio has given permission.

“Along with about five thousand rules we need to follow, of course. And we’ll have an entourage of security. But we can take Emilia, too, if you like. And Penn. And maybe afterward Penn can take Emilia home, and we can go to a bar or something and have a bit of fun.”

I slant her a sideways look. “Ah, hon, you’re under twenty-one, remember? And your familyownsa bar. Several bars and clubs, as far as I can gather. Not that I’d take you anyway, but at which bar or club do you think you’d be able to get away with underage drinking?”

“Spoilsport.” She pouts, then brightens. “Well, I’ll be twenty soon, so I won’t have to wait too much longer. Okay, let’s do it minus the bar part, then.”

Her enthusiasm is so contagious I find myself full of anticipation when our “entourage,” as Angel puts it, makes our way into the city. I gave Penn the day off in the end, so it’s just Angel, Emilia, and me, together with Lee, who seems to draw wife-watching duty more than most of the team, plus three other goons whose names I’m not familiar with.

A fifth team member drops us off at Boston Common and advises he’ll drive ahead so we can reach him easily along the way if we need to. Lee steps up to help me unfold the stroller and load Emilia in. She’s strong for her age and has just started sitting up, so I know she’ll enjoy being able to look out and about as we walk.

It’s cold today, so we’re all bundled up. But at least it isn’t raining. I’m ridiculously excited. Having lived in Boston for much of my life with my adoptive parents, it’s crazy that I’ve never walked the Trail. Neither has Angel, apparently, so we’re both as green as any tourist when we start in the direction of the State House.

“Did you know this is America’s first public park?” Lee’s voice murmurs from behind us, and both Angel and I turn to face him.

He shoots us an embarrassed grin, as if he didn’t mean to reveal any of his non-goon humanity.

I grin back, not letting him off the hook. “No, I didn’t know that. What other little tidbits of information are you hiding in that brain of yours, Lee?”

“Not much,” he mutters, and we keep walking. “It was established in 1634,” he adds after a minute.

Angel and I exchange a look, and then share a laugh. Lee is definitely growing on me.

I shove away the recalcitrant thought that whispers,Let’s hope he doesn’t die like Leon did.

We’re having the best day, approaching the Old Corner Bookstore and talking about where we might stop to eat, when a blonde-haired woman steps out of the shadows of a building doorway and approaches our little group.

She’s wearing jeans, a shirt, and low-heeled boots that are slightly scuffed. Her long overcoat is unbuttoned, showing cuffs hanging from her belt, and from the bulge under the coat, she’s clearly carrying a weapon.

“Oh my God.” I come to an abrupt stop, clutching the stroller and my heart rate ratcheting up.

A sense of déjà vu hits me, only this time, unlike outside the animal rescue center, I have Emilia to worry about.

Then my brain clicks into gear, focusing on more than just the presence of the gun, and I recognize her.

Felicity. If that’s her real name.

The goons sense danger and swing into action, surrounding us as one with their hands heading for their weapons.

“Wait, wait,please.” I direct my plea at Lee, who seems to be the one in charge today. “I know her. She’s a cop. Well, a Fed. I think. Don’t draw your weapons,please. I don’t want anyone to get into trouble.”

Or die.

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