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How Vincente had charmed her. When the relationship became twisted. Controlling. Her childhood. Her ties to known Mafia figures in New York.
Why she’d taken the name of a dead child and forged a new identity.
Shame burned her throat. Pricked behind her eyes. By the end, she wanted to curl up in a corner and disappear.
“Gia.”
Caleb.
She hadn’t heard him approach. Something in her expression made his face tighten.
“It’s going to be okay, baby.”
A sob broke free—sudden and sharp. She bit her lip and pressed her face into his chest.
Warm. Solid. Safe.
He smelled of sandalwood, spices, and home.
His palm swept in slow circles across her back.
She wanted to sink into him, disappear into his strength, and never let go.
“I love you, Gia,” he murmured against her ear. “Whatever happens, we face it together.”
He cupped her face, a crooked smile stealing her breath. “You’re my family.”
The love in his eyes rocked her.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” she whispered, “but there’s no one I’d rather spend my life loving than you.”
The conference room door opened.
Lucas Caldwell filled the threshold. “Doctor Barone, step inside, please.”
Caleb’s fingers laced with hers. “I’m coming with her.” There was no negotiation in his tone.
“Suit yourself—if Doctor Barone allows it.” Caldwell held the door.
Gia clutched Caleb’s hand and followed him in.
The agents inside said nothing, their expressions blank.
Her throat tightened.
Caldwell waved them to their seats and took his own. “After reviewing your testimony—and given that the men responsible for Special Agent Cardenas’s murder are deceased—we won’t pursue charges for misprision of felony or accessory after the fact.”
A low roar filled Gia’s ears. She caught snatches of Caldwell’s words—fear for her life, the power imbalance in her relationship with Vincente, her service to the Navajo community.
Chairs scraped. The agents stood.
AD Caldwell gathered his files, stacking them neatly into a black leather briefcase.
“What about Espina Negra?” Caleb asked. “If your mole leaks our identities…”
Gia’s heart stuttered. She’d assumed with Vincente and Juan dead, and Ramón in jail, she was safe.
“The mole worked for Ramón. Now that Ramón’s in prison, I expect him to peddle his services to Diego.” Lucas’s expression hardened. Gia recognized that look—the cold, flat stare she’d seen in Caleb’s eyes the night at Lucero’s. “And I’ll be waiting.”