Standing in what was once my closet is like stepping into a time warp. All the clothes Cristian bought me five years ago are still on hangers. Most of them I didn’t even have an opportunity to wear. They all smell freshly laundered, and I can’t believe he didn’t toss everything out with my lying ass. Apart from a fresh layer of paint, the room is exactly how I remember it too. Even the body wash and shampoo I just used in the bath are the same brands I used when I lived here. It’s like this entire room is a shrine to me.
Dropping the towel, I pick out clean panties, a pair of jeans, and a white tank top for under the pink silk blouse. All my old bras are way too big now, so I’ll have to go braless. After dressing, I slip my feet into my old comfy slides and head out to find Cristian.
It’s surreal being back here and seeing Cristian, Elio, and John Angelo again. We dropped Elio at Isotta’s apartment even though he begged his dad to cancel the sleepover so he could come with us. Cristian warned him to keep my reappearance a secret before escorting him to his aunt’s place alongside Umberto. It gave John Angelo and me a chance to talk privately for a few minutes.
I’m still mulling over everything he told me about the desperate lengths Cristian has gone to over the years to find me. I don’t understand it. I betrayed him in the worst way. He should hate my guts. He certainly did the day he held a gun to my head and basically told me I was dead to him. John Angelo reassured me he doesn’t mean me any harm, and I’m safe here. I’ve learned to listen to that inner voice and trust my instincts, and it tells me to accept the help Cristian is offering. At the very least, we are both owed a conversation.
“Hey,” I say when I enter the kitchen to discover Cristian unpacking a large takeout bag.
“Hi.” He stops removing cartons, letting his gaze rake over me from head to toe. It feels like a sensual caress, and I shiver all over.
My body certainly hasn’t forgotten the way he used to make me purr with pleasure. No lover before or after has ever matched up to him.
Cristian’s eyes briefly linger on my much smaller chest, and I’m not surprised he’s noticed because it’s a big change—pun intended. “I had the implants removed a couple of years ago.” I don’t mention the reconstructive surgery needed to tighten my overstretched skin because it’s private. “Fuentes forced them on me, and I hated everything they represented.”
Cristian nods, his expression pained.
“John Angelo said you pieced together my story. That you know the cartel kidnapped me and my mother when we were on vacation.”
“Yes, but a lot of it was guesswork. I’d like you to tell me if it’s not too difficult.”
“Can we eat first? I’m starving.”
“Of course.” He unloads the rest of the bag. “I hope takeout is okay. We live in Glencoe now, and I only stay here a couple days a month, so the refrigerator hadn’t been restocked, and the pickings were slim.”
“I’m not fussy, and it smells delicious.”
“I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I got a ton of different things.”
“Thank you.”
We don’t talk as we open cartons and heap food on our plates, but we’re both sneaking glances at one another, and I wonder if butterflies are swooping through his chest the same way they are through mine. Not that I’m under any illusion about what this is. Cristian obviously feels guilty for not protecting me, and this is his chance at redemption. It doesn’t mean we get to live out the fantasy we got a taste of. I’m a very different person, and I’m sure he is too. It’s not like we could pick up where we left off, even if we wanted to.
“By the way, I located your car. It’s been impounded, but I’ll process the paperwork to have it released. Then I’ll get it towed to the garage and repaired. John Angelo will arrange one of my men to pick up your things.”
“I appreciate it, thanks.” It’ll be good to have my stuff. All I took when I fled was my gun and my wallet.
“Wine?” Cristian asks, reaching for two glasses.
“I’ll pass in favor of water and some pain pills.”
His face instantly dissolves into concern. “You need to be checked out. I’ll call Natalia.”
“Don’t bother. Nothing is broken, and a few bruises won’t kill me.”
“For me, please.”
“It’s Saturday night. Let the woman enjoy her downtime.”
“She’s on shift in the city, and I know she won’t mind dropping by on her way home.”
I shrug. “Okay then. If you insist.”
I carry our plates and glasses of water to the table while Cristian calls the doctor.
We eat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes until I crack. “Well, this is super awkward.”
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” he says, pushing his plate away. “I feel like I should keep pinching myself to know it’s real.”
“I know the feeling. It’s very surreal.” I pop a shrimp in my mouth and chew. “Why are all my clothes still in the closet? Why does my room look like a shrine?”
“Because I never stopped hoping you’d come back to me.”
“What changed? You almost put a bullet in my head, and I know you hated me. I saw it in your eyes.”
“Eat and I’ll talk,” he says, jabbing his finger at my dinner.
Lifting my fork, I shovel a mouthful of noodles and shrimp between my lips.
I listen as he explains his thought process that day and in the weeks that followed. I continue eating, trapping my words inside as he outlines the steps he took to find me and his frustration at being thwarted every time they came close to locating me. By the time he’s finished, I’ve cleared my plate and drank all my water.
“Tell me Pablo suffered,” I say through gritted teeth after he’s explained how they lured El Rey into a trap so Cristian could kill him.
“Trust me, the bastard suffered.” A muscle clenches in his jaw. “Caleb, Joshua, and I tortured him for weeks. He was begging for death by the end. I watched him bleed out and die like a coward. Then we hacked him up and burned his remains. Nothing is left of that prick, and I hope he’s rotting in the fiery pits of hell.”
Emotion has me tied in knots, and it takes several minutes before I can speak. “Thank you. I have dreamed of avenging my mother every night since we were taken. It helps to know he can’t hurt anyone ever again.” My mind drifts, as it so often does, to the innocents I put in danger. “What about the missing women and children?” I’m terrified of his answer, but I need to know. “Please tell me you found them.”
“This can wait for another time. You must be exhausted, and it’s already been a lot.”
“I won’t shy away from this, Cristian. Tell me.”
“It’s not your fault,” he rushes to assure me.
“We both know that’s not true.”
“Sloane, listen to me.” Swiveling his chair, he faces me, taking my cold hands into his warm ones. “The only people responsible are my brother and the cartel.”
“Tell me.” I brace myself because I know it’s going to hurt.
“We found two of the children. A boy and a girl. They’re safe and being well cared for.”
“What about their mothers and the other mother and child?”
Pain glimmers in his eyes. “We were too late to save the women, and the boy is missing, but we haven’t given up searching. He’s high on our priority list.”
I rest my head on the table and breathe deeply as pain whittles through me.
“Sloane.” Cristian’s warm hand lands on my back. “Please don’t blame yourself. I could easily blame myself or Gia for finding them. If we hadn’t, the cartel may never have known about them. Or I could point the finger at The Commission for not immediately prioritizing the search. There is lots of blame to go around, but the real blame lies with Fuentes and the cartel.”
My eyes sting when I lift my head. “I set it all in motion, and I’ll never forgive myself.”
“I can’t tell you how to feel, but please don’t take that burden on. I’m begging you. You have taken on enough.”
“Guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.” I rub at my throbbing temples. “Not a day has gone by where I haven’t worried about them or thought about you and Elio.”
“It was the same for me.” His fingers thread through mine. “We found eighteen other kids. All Elio’s half-siblings.”
My eyes pop wide.
“They’re safe, and the search is continuing because we believe there are more.”
“That’s a lot to process.”
“It is.”
Silence descends as we’re both locked in our thoughts, until Cristian breaks it a few minutes later. “How about we grab a bottle of wine and move into the living room?”
“You haven’t eaten much.” I glance at his half-eaten plate, the food cold by now.
“Elisa made a big lunch, and honestly, my stomach is in knots. I can’t eat another thing.”
“How is everyone?” I ask. “John Angelo told me Clint survived but had to retire early from his injuries. Before I leave, I’d like to see him to apologize.”
Cristian scowls, opening and closing his mouth. “You have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t shoot him. The cartel did, and we made them pay. Everyone is doing great.” A big smile lights up his face. “Elisa and Caleb had a little girl four years ago, and they have a new baby son. Gia and Joshua welcomed another daughter five months ago. You should know Elisa immediately defended you. She didn’t for one second ever blame you. She cried a lot of tears, and everyone’s been extremely worried about you.”
“Elisa is a sweetheart through and through.” I stand, reaching for the plates when Cristian wraps his fingers around my wrist.
“Leave those. I’ll clean up later. Go into the living room, and I’ll bring the wine.”
The doorbell chimes just as I’ve sat on the familiar couch, and then Natalia is there, hugging me repeatedly and marveling at how well I look, before whisking me into the bedroom to check my injuries.
“You’re right. Nothing is broken. You’re lucky,” she says, gesturing for me to get dressed.
“The car had almost stopped when I hit it, so I kinda rolled over the hood,” I say, pulling my tank and blouse back on. “All the bruising is from hitting the ground at an odd angle.”
“Does this give you much pain?” she asks, gently probing the jagged skin on my calf.
“On and off. I don’t think it healed right.”
“I’d like to have strong words with whoever did your sutures.” She frowns as she prods more firmly around the messy scar.
“John Angelo did it, but he saved me from bleeding out. A little pain and an ugly scar don’t bother me when it could’ve been much worse.”
“I think there are bullet fragments still under the skin. It’s why you get intermittent pain. We should schedule surgery to remove them. We have a great cosmetic surgeon at the hospital, and I’m sure he could do something to make the scar less obvious.”
“I’m not sure what my plans are, but I’ll consider it,” I say, pulling my jeans up my legs.
“I’m going to suggest something. Cristian asked me to ask you, but it’s entirely your choice.” She holds up a small, thin silver chip. “This is a high-tech tracking device. A lot of Cosa Nostra have these, families included.” She lifts her hair up. “Prod the back of my neck, see if you can feel it.”
I do as she asks, and when I press in firmly, I can feel it, but you wouldn’t know by looking at her neck.
“How does it work?” I ask as she lowers her hair.
“Once inserted, it can be tracked either locally by a loved one or centrally via our IT team. It’s added security. If you’d had one of these five years ago, you wouldn’t have been lost to us for so long.”
“Cristian wants me to have this?”
She nods. “For your protection, but it’s your choice, which is why he left it to me to ask you. He doesn’t want you to feel pressured.”
“If it’s for my protection, I don’t see the harm. You can put it in.”
Numbing the area first, she then makes a small incision and pushes the chip in before applying a few butterfly bandages.
“Keep it dry, and I’d like to check it in a week.”
“Thanks, Natalia.”
“You’re welcome.” She packs up her bag. “We’re all having dinner at my house tomorrow, and I’d love you to come. I’m sure everyone would love to see you.”
“Thanks for the invite, but I’m not sure yet what my plans are. I’ll talk with Cristian and let you know.”
She draws me into a bear hug. “I’m so happy you’re safe. It took strength and smarts to survive.”
“My mother died so I could live, and I never forget it. I have fought with everything I have to make sure her sacrifice wasn’t in vain.”
“I’m so sorry for what you both endured. Losing your mother like that is horrendous. We were all so worried about you. Especially Cristian. He’s been a shell of himself since you left.”
“It hasn’t been a picnic for me either.”
Her expression turns grave. “No, I don’t expect it was.” She kisses my cheek. “Do you remember what I told you the last time I saw you?”
Wracking my brain, I draw a blank and shake my head. “Some of my memory is patchy from that time.”
Compassion splays across her face. “Trauma does that. I gave you the name of a therapist, and Marjorie still takes on new clients. If you want to talk to her, call me, and I’ll pass on her details. The other things I said that day were you’re family, we take care of our family, and Cristian would treat you like a queen if you let him.” She squeezes my hand. “That is all still true. I know he messed up, but he hasn’t stopped looking for you. It’s always been you for him. There has been no one else. I thought you should know that when deciding where you go next.”
