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According to her journal, someone at Argentum had gotten to her and threatened her boyfriend’s life if she didn’t provide information and put the tracker on Sasha’s car. As a warning, they’d gone as far as to jump him after work one night, injuring him badly enough that an ambulance had to take him to the emergency room.
Despite that, Ashley had tried in her own way to warn Sasha, moving her coffee cup, letting her know that things weren’t normal.
Her body, riddled with gunshot wounds, had been found the next day. Though Sasha hated that it had happened, she wasn’t entirely sure she blamed Ashley for her choices. Sasha knew she would do anything to protect the people she loved. Even now, knowing how deep the betrayal ran, she wanted Ashley back.
Sighing, dragging herself back to the present, Sasha reached for the delivery from Hawkeye. She already knew what it contained—the astronomical bill that Inamorata had promised, for the services of the agents who’d saved their lives, the investigation assistance, surveillance, taking care of BrendaSantos, the use of the safehouse, running interference with authorities…
She’d been dreading this moment, wondering how she’d manage to keep her business afloat while paying it off.
Even though technically the invoice should be charged to the Santos account, she knew the couple didn’t have the resources to pay—even if she could find them ever again. Their house had been abandoned, and they had both vanished as if they’d never existed. Which told her they had most likely been placed in witness protection. Because she’d been concerned, she’d found Brenda’s sister and contacted her. The woman swore she knew nothing at all about her sibling’s whereabouts.
Sasha would never know how things had been resolved. She hoped they were together and safe. If they helped to bring down Argentum, maybe the cost would have been worth it.
Then again, maybe not.
The paper crinkled as she tore it open.
With a breath, steadying herself for the blow, she glanced at the bottom line.
Zero.
Her heart missed a beat, then began to race. She smoothed the paper flat, certain she was missing something, some joke or mistake. But there it was in black and white—Paid in full.
And below that, a single name that made her chest constrict painfully. Gregorio Conti.
The edges of the paper blurred as tears threatened.Of course.Of course he would do this—settle accounts, tie up loose ends, make sure she was taken care of before disappearing completely. It was so perfectly, infuriatingly Gregorio that it made her want to scream.
“He loves you, Sasha,” her mother had continued to insist, just last weekend when she’d dropped by the restaurant.
Sasha had been tired of her own company, tired of grieving, going through the motions of living. Mostly, she’d been exhausted from loneliness.
In the kitchen, while making tiramisu, Rosa had reached over and patted Sasha’s hand. “I know he does. You have to trust that. And the nice Damien man.”
Who’d told her to give Gregorio some space, let him realize how badly he’d fucked up.
Since Damien knew his friend probably better than anyone on the planet, she’d listened to him.
Had that been a mistake?
Her mother had said to fight for him, and that’s what she’d vowed to do. This form of fighting just tore her heart to pieces. “I just wish I could believe it will all work out.” Either that or she’d somehow have to find the courage to move on without him.
She mentally scoffed. As if she was capable of doing that while she was broken inside.
“Some men aren’t sure what to do with a good woman. We can be terrifying.” She’d smiled. “They run before they can get hurt. Or before they can hurt anyone else.”
Armed with to-go boxes of lasagna and desserts, along with a generous serving of encouragement, Sasha had left the restaurant, clinging to a thread of hope that everyone was right. Gregorio needed time.
But every minute that passed seemed like an awful, drawn-out goodbye. A closure she hadn’t asked for and didn’t want.
A sharp knock jolted her from her spiraling thoughts.
“You have a visitor,” Nadia said as she entered Sasha’s office. Her eyebrows were furrowed in a deep frown as she looked back toward the reception area.
Sasha barely glanced up, still lost in the ache spreading through her chest. “Who?” A new client, maybe?
“He wouldn’t say.”
Instinctively, Sasha curled her fingers around the chair’s armrests. And then—