Page 210 of Anti-Heroes in Love Duet

“Try not to enjoy this too much,” he teased.

Only a mafioso would joke after a freaking car bomb went off.

With a beep of his pathetic horn, he took off down the alley, sticking to the narrow streets as he wound his way from the cathedral toward the water.

“Aren’t we going to the airport?” I asked because that was our original plan.

Pull off the fake wedding of the century and get the hell out of Naples. We’d talked about going to Costa Rica, where the Camorra funneled most of their ill-begotten money. I didn’t speak Spanish, and I wasn’t skilled with languages, but I’d learned that Dante spoke it and four others fluently. It was another new start, this one completely foreign to me, but I didn’t care.

I’d go anywhere with my capo.

“Change of plans!” Frankie shouted over the rush of wind and then said nothing more.

We arrived at theporti di Napolidocks within ten minutes. Two cruise ships nestled in the harbor and countless little boats, luxury speedboats for the tourists and the wealthy, weathered fishing boats for the many Neapolitans who made their money off the sea.

Frankie drove straight onto the concrete docks to the very end of one vacant mooring and turned off the engine.

“What the hell are we doing?” I demanded as I got off and removed my helmet. “We need to call and see if they’re okay.”

“They will be.”

“You can’t be sure of that,” I hissed, stepping forward to give his biceps a shake. “They did this for Dante and me! Don’t you get that? They were never meant to get hurt.”

Frankie gave me a cool look, then pulled his phone from his pocket, pressing a button before handing it to me.

I took it eagerly, almost dropping it in my haste.

As it rang, I followed Frankie’s gaze to a small wooden speedboat racing in from the ocean, froth at its bow and a single captain at its helm.

It rang and rang.

My heart moved into my throat.

The boat moved closer.

A man, dark-haired and with broad shoulders stood at the wheel.

I stopped breathing.

The phone clicked then went dead.

The vessel aimed straight at the mooring, the engine so loud I almost didn’t hear the phone in my limp hand ringing.

I raised it to my ear.

“Hello?”

The man on the boat bent as he brought the vehicle to a sudden, swerving stop at the dock. Only his dark head was visible.

“Lena mia,” my sister said breathlessly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t answer. We just got away.”

“Are you okay?” I demanded.

She laughed.

A high, lilting laugh like a drug addict after a good fix.

Like a villain who had just pulled off the ultimate evil plan.