Page 22 of Cartel King (The Cartel Brotherhood #1)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ellie

I force myself not to check my phone again. Not even to see the time. It has to be close to four a.m., and I’m exhausted. However, my mind won’t settle. I’m in Enrique’s bed alone, and this isn’t how I thought I’d spend my first night in it. Luciana and Margherita convinced me to come up here. They’re in the rooms I discovered they have whenever they spend the night here. Apparently, there are enough bedrooms for each of the five guys to have their own, plus ones for Margherita and her husband, Catalina and her husband, and Luciana.

Instead of looking at my phone, I’m staring out the window. It looks out over the driveway. The view would be prettier if the room were at the back of the house, but it’s more practical to see the front. I have the blinds open just enough to see the guards patrolling. I’ll see when the SUVs return.

I should try to sleep. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in this position. After the first few years, I got used to Tim being gone for unexpected lengths of time. With young children to run after, I needed my sleep. I don’t have that excuse anymore.

I grab my phone off the bedside table and pull up a streaming app. I scroll my choices and pick a show. I adjust the pillows as the opening scene begins. All I needed was something to distract me. Within fifteen minutes, my eyes grow heavy, and my phone just fell forward on me for a third time. I’ll let it keep playing, but I reach to put my device back on the table.

As I do, movement outside catches my attention. I prop myself on my elbow as an SUV appears just beyond the gate. My brow furrows as I wait for the gate to open, but it doesn’t. Instead, men with their rifles raised rush forward from the side of the house. I recognize the smoke grenade as it sails over the gate. Two more follow it. The circular drive becomes an unrecognizable cloud.

I’m out of bed and through the bedroom door without a second thought. I run to the opposite end of the hallway and pound on Luciana’s door then Margherita’s. Constantine follows, practically tripping over my heels.

“Get up! Someone’s here, and it’s not our men. Get up!”

When I hear movement in both rooms, I turn back toward Enrique’s. I’m about to go back inside when Luciana calls out to me.

“Could you see the hubcaps?”

I spin around and shake my head. “They weren’t through the gate when I went to tell you. Someone tossed smoke bombs.” I look toward the window. “Whoever it is breached the gate. You and Margherita need to get in the panic room.”

Margherita steps out of the bedroom with a high-power rifle she’s carrying with ease. This is a woman who’s used to the weapon. Luciana disappears for a moment before coming out with a shotgun.

I suspected these women have killed before, and their bearing now confirms it. Enrique is going to kill us if these strangers don’t because I know I won’t convince them to hide. The women hurry toward me as I rush back into his bedroom.

“Constantine, bed.”

The dog looks at me as though he’d disagree if he could speak, but he follows my command. I pull my rifle from my duffle bag and quickly assemble it. We stay clear of the windows, but Luciana gets close enough to see the SUV.

“I don’t recognize it.”

“There can’t be more men in it than there are patrolling.”

“There aren’t. It’s a suicide mission.”

“Or a distraction.”

Margherita runs from the room and across the hall into the true guest room. It’s unassigned. It also has a view over the backyard.

“There are men coming over the walls.”

“Are there enough guards?” I follow Luciana out, so all three of us stand in the hallway, away from the windows.

“There should be.”

“I won’t convince either of you to go in the panic room, will I?”

“Are you going?” Luciana lifts her chin.

“If that’s what it takes to get you in there, then yes.”

“There are family heirlooms in this home I won’t walk away from. I’m not letting strangers in here to trash my brother’s house.”

I nod. I understand that. My mind flashes to my house. Could these people have already gone there? Could it already be trashed? Could it be rubble? My security system hasn’t gone off, but that doesn’t mean someone hasn’t figured out a workaround.

“Come with me.”

Margherita heads back into the spare room as she speaks. We each take a window, opening it but keeping the blinds mostly shut. I pray no one notices our movements. Enrique’s sisters and I watch as men pour out of the summer house at the foot of the garden. It’s more like barracks than a guest cottage or staycation escape from the main house.

A couple men scaling the wall fall as they try to get over it. Men who’d already jumped down, stumble forward from bullets fired behind them. I aim my rifle for the drone that just appeared. It’s probably the same fucking one that took photos of me. I’m assuming these are the same people who violated my privacy. One shot takes it down. It also gains attention from the men on the ground. An invader pivots toward me, and I see his finger move to the trigger. I don’t hesitate. I put a bullet through his eye since his helmet covered his forehead.

Luciana, Margherita, and I open fire. We pick off men who don’t belong here, evening the numbers for Enrique’s men to finish.

“Enrique!”

I recognize a muffled voice. I leave the window and run back to his bedroom. I open a window as he, Luis, and his nephews shelter Catalina and Matías as they all try to make their way to the front door. I spot another drone, and this one isn’t made for aerial photography. I shoot it down, the machine landing close to Javier. He looks up at the same time as Enrique. I ignore the younger man as surprise morphs into rage as Enrique’s gaze meets mine. I refuse to cringe. I stare at him defiantly.

I brace myself for when he storms into the room. I look past him to see Luis pulling Margherita into his arms while he chews out Luciana. Enrique kicks the door shut so hard the frame shakes. I lay the rifle on the bed as Enrique points toward his closet while he pets Constantine with the other. Satisfied with a scratch between the ears, my dog senses it’s still not time to be in the way.

“Why aren’t you in there?”

He stalks toward me, but I stand my ground.

“We decided not to.”

“We? You let my sisters convince you?”

“They didn’t need to. It was obvious they know what they’re doing with their guns, and I saw the proof. We aren’t helpless.”

“No. You’re foolish, which is just as bad.”

“No one entered the house. If they had, then the panic room would be the right place to go.”

“You conveniently didn’t say it’s where you would go.”

He fists my hair with one hand, and his other rests heavily on my throat. I can’t move, and I don’t want to when he kisses me. I welcome his forcefulness, opening to him as his tongue presses into mine. But when I cross my wrists behind my back, he jerks away.

“Touch me, chiquita . Hold me.”

I wrap my arms around him, grateful he wants a reunion of equals, not a BDSM scene. He wants me to see his dominant side, but he isn’t a Dom. I appreciate the nuance. As our kiss continues, our hands skim over each other. I can’t get enough. He lifts me, and I wrap my legs around him as he walks to the bed.

“What about outside?”

“My men have it under control.”

“Catalina?”

“Safe and unharmed.”

I dive in for a kiss. Once Enrique sits, we fumble with our clothes. I’m wearing one of his button-downs that comes to mid-thigh.

“What the fuck are these?”

I pull up the shirt as I rise on my knees. He’s already pushed down his boxer briefs, so I push my panties aside. I try to lower myself onto him, but his fingers bite into my ass and keep me from moving.

“Why are you wearing panties, little girl?”

“In case I had to dress in a hurry and because I was in the house with your sisters. It felt wrong not to have anything on under this, but I really needed to wear something of yours. I needed to feel you were around me. I couldn’t have everything on display if I moved the wrong way.”

He presses me down as he thrusts up. My head falls back as I Kegel around his cock. I work the buttons on the shirt until I can push it apart. He latches on to my right breast and sucks. His arms wrap around my waist, keeping me from doing more than rolling my hips. It’s my turn to tunnel my fingers into his hair, holding him to me.

“Daddy, we’re both safe. We’re home. We’re together.”

He groans and sucks harder. He devours me, moving to the other side. There’s fear radiating from him, and I realize just how much my disregard for his expectations bothers him. He kisses across my chest, over my tits, up my neck, and down to my sternum. He nips and sucks until he marks me where clothes will always cover me. His hands hold me in place, not allowing me any control. He needs that, and I’m fine to relinquish it.

“Daddy, do whatever you want.”

He pulls away. “We don’t have time for that. I still have things to sort out. But I promise you I will do whatever the hell I can think of when we have our house to ourselves.”

Our house .

I love the one I live in now. It’s exactly how I want it. It’s perfect for me.

But I don’t want it to just be me anymore. I want it to be us. To be ours. To be “we” and not just “me.” If this is where I can get that, then I hope the next buyer loves my place as much as I do.

“Daddy, fill me with your cum. Know that it’s inside me where it belongs. Know that when you allow me to leave this room, it’ll drip down the insides of my thighs. I’ll be sticky and reminded I belong to you.”

“When I allow you to leave the room? Do you think I’ll lock you in here?”

“I’d hoped you might tie me to the bed and make me wait for you.”

“And when the others ask where you are?”

“Tell them you didn’t want me to leave here until you knew it was safe, and I understood you have things to do I can’t know about.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight or my reach for months, chiquita .”

We observe each other as his hands now lightly hold my hips, guiding me to move slowly.

“I will pump you full of my cum. Then I will spank your pretty little ass. You will dress and come downstairs with me. You will keep from squirming when you sit on your sore cheeks.”

“Then I’ll suck you off while you sit at your desk and deal with all of this once everyone is gone. You’ll hold my head down while I take all of you.”

“You’ll swallow every drop. Then tomorrow night, I will fuck your ass again. You will have my cum in every part of you. You belong to me, Ellie. You belong beside me.”

“And underneath and on top. I belong wherever you are, Enrique.”

We haven’t taken our eyes off each other.

“I love you.”

It’s a relief and a joy to say it and hear it.

We come together for another kiss. I rise higher on my knees, and his hand lands across my ass. He does it repeatedly, varying the speed and firmness.

“Count them, little girl. These are for punishment.”

“I know, Daddy. One. Two. Three.”

I keep counting until I get to forty. He gives me twenty on each side. My ass stings, and I kick my feet as best I can. Each spank pushes me forward, grinding my clit against his pubic bone. I’m getting close.

“You will come this time, Ellie. Normally, I wouldn’t reward you during a punishment. But I need to feel you come. I need to pleasure you after fearing I wouldn’t see you again, then realizing the risk you put yourself in. They could’ve shot you through the window. They could’ve trapped you, leaving you unable to make it to the panic room in time.”

“I’m sorry I scared you, Daddy.”

“I know you are. I know you can defend yourself, but you don’t always have to. Let me protect you. Promise me, please.”

I cup his jaw and brush a soft kiss against his lips.

“Can I promise you forever?”

“Do you mean that, Ellie?”

“Yes.”

“No his and hers, Ellie.”

“Only ours. I want my day to start and end with you beside me. No more wondering if I’ll see you that day because we run into each other. No more saying goodbye. Only goodnight and good morning.”

“That sounds perfect to me.”

He stands and walks into the bathroom, closing the door quietly. He places me on the bathroom counter. We’re away from where anyone can hear us. The hard surface fucking hurts like a motherfucker, but I don’t mind once we move together. I hang on for dear life, one hand grasping the edge and the other holding on to his shoulder.

“May I come?”

“Yes. I can’t last much longer, Ellie.”

“Neither can—I’m coming, Enrique. I’m coming. God!”

“Fuck, chiquita .”

He pounds into me one more time before we still. I lean back against the mirror, and his hands rest behind my hips as his forehead presses the glass above my shoulder. He kisses my neck. We take a few moments to catch our breath before we straighten. We haven’t forgotten about the rest of the world, even if we ignored it for a bit.

“I love you.”

We say it together again, and it’s perfection.

He helps me down, and I follow him into the bedroom. We both change before heading into the hallway. Luis and Margherita step out of their room together at the same time Catalina and Matías come out of theirs. Catalina looks better than I expected. I see no cuts or bruises. She appears worn out, and she’s leaning against Matías.

Enrique wraps his arm around me and whispers in my ear. “I don’t know about them yet, carino .”

I nod as we all meet at the top of the stairs. I take a tentative step forward. My concern is genuine, but it’s also a test. Catalina doesn’t recoil or sneer. She offers me a smile.

“Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do?”

She shakes her head and leans against her husband more. “Thank you, though. Matías told me what you did earlier. How you got the information to save me. I saw you in the window too. If two sisters is good, then three is better. We must outnumber my brothers by twice as many. They each talk enough for two of us.”

I look at Matías. His face is bruised, and it’s not just from where Gérard or Johann hit him with their gun. I couldn’t see the damage earlier because it was too dark. But the light in the hallway shows someone beat him before we left my house. There’s plenty more to the story. I’ll withhold further judgment of the man until I know all the available information.

The six of us head downstairs to the dining room where Luciana sits with the younger men. All five of them devour a heaping plateful of food, and she looks among them indulgently.

When we enter, her smile falters a little, but she soon plasters it back in place. She must have greeted her sister earlier because when Catalina sits next to her, they merely hold hands. Margherita sits on the other side of Catalina and takes her hand too.

As much as they might have made me feel welcome and a part of this family a moment ago, I’m still an observer. There are no more open seats next to the women. Instead, I follow Enrique as he leads me toward the head of the table, but Pablo pushes back his chair and gestures to it.

“Here you go—Elodie.”

He hesitates, unsure how he should address me. After all of this, especially since they probably guessed what the couples were doing upstairs, did he think he should call me Ms. McCann?

He looks to Enrique who looks at me and shrugs. I don’t know what’s going on between them. I shift my gaze to everyone else at the table, and the other men in Pablo’s generation are looking at me just as questioningly.

“Pablo?”

“I was just wondering if—should I call you—um?—”

“You can call me Elle if you’d like.”

That puts him at ease a little more, but I sense there’s something else. I look around and settle my gaze on Alejandro. I don’t know if it’s because of our initial encounter or there’s something about him in particular, but I seem to have a soft spot for him. Maybe it’s because I know he’s always been an only child. Until a few years ago, Pablo had a younger brother.

I wasn’t always an only child, but I became one when I was in my early twenties. The car accident that killed my brother was a hit the Volkovs put on him. I suppose I have more in common with Pablo, but I felt like an only child long before my brother died because once he started his training in middle school, he was never around. Maybe because I’ve felt that way for so long there’s a kinship. I innately understand what the others don’t because, as far as I know, Margherita isn’t an only child. I can’t imagine being in her position, though, having lost a son, even if Juan deserved it. Not that I would ever say those words aloud.

“We—um?—”

Even Alejandro seems at a loss for words. It’s Joaquin—I’ve already deduced he’s the shyest in the group—who finally explains.

“Even at our age, we still call everyone tía or tío . We wondered if we may call you tía .”

“Of course you can. Thank you.”

That brings a lump to my throat because, even if their parents don’t accept me, they do. That’s a step in the right direction. Perhaps it’ll be enough to bring their parents around if their children can welcome and trust me.

I’ll take whatever bones anyone’s willing to toss at me right now. After all that’s happened tonight, the fact that none of them are chasing me out of the house is a success I’ll gladly accept. I take the seat Pablo offered me next to his mother, and Enrique helps ease it under the table for me. He hesitates before walking to the head of the table and taking his place there. It would almost seem cliche if he didn’t look like he belonged there so much. It’s the same as it was when he sat behind his desk the other day.

The conversation remains fairly light as the men eat. I pick at the food that appeared in front of me. Fortunately, it was a far more reasonable size portion than what any of the men had. Constantine joins us and lays beneath my chair. How he fits places like that is beyond me, but he barely makes a sound only snoring once in a while. He’s merely happy to be with me again.

When the men finish eating, I expect them to head back to Enrique’s office. Instead, the younger men move to the living room and turn on the TV. It’s my generation that heads to Enrique’s office. It surprises me that Luciana, Margherita, Catalina, and I are all involved in this conversation.

I remain quiet this time, slipping into one of the two armchairs rather than waiting for Enrique to bring a chair around beside him. However, that doesn’t work when he avoids his desk and comes to sit on one of the three love seats in the office.

I vacate the chair I’m in, and Luciana takes it. I move to sit with Enrique, and he takes my hand. His thumb brushes over my knuckles, and I wonder what he’s preparing to tell me.

“Do you know who did this?”

“We suspect who’s behind it, but until we speak to him, we can’t be sure.”

“Is it Tommaso?”

“No, though he might be involved.”

“Tim?”

“No, I considered it, but I don’t think it’s him.”

“You would have told me right away if it were the bratva or the mob. You’re hesitating, so that tells me Mafia. That leaves Salvatore. Is he responsible for this?”

“We believe so, but we’re not entirely sure how because it involved the Trenton mob as well.”

“So, it involved the O’Rourkes, too?”

“No, Gareth O’Brien worked independently from the O’Rourkes even if he used one of their buildings to hold Catalina.”

“Could it have been them working entirely on their own?”

The three men snort in unison.

“Gareth O’Brien is young and inexperienced and mildly stupid, but he’s also not brave enough to use another syndicate’s building without someone insisting he must and providing some reassurance he could survive the job.”

“Does he owe Salvatore something, or is Salvatore using the O’Briens to get back at the O’Rourkes?”

“Either? Both? We’re not sure yet.”

“All right, so what next?”

“We’ll call Salvatore after Catalina and Matías fill everybody in on what happened.”

“Ms. McCann, I owe you an apology. As you were putting the privacy glass back up, my phone rang in my pocket. I didn’t recognize the number, so I didn’t answer it. The person calling sent a text when I didn’t pick up. It was a vague warning something would happen to Catalina, so it distracted me. It’s why I wasn’t attentive enough to walk to the door with you. It’s why I didn’t sweep the backyard properly enough. Just after Enrique arrived, the other car pulled up. Men climbed into the back seat of mine. They’d already killed Pedro and Diego. The men in the car beside me showed me photos of Catalina bound and gagged as men dragged her from our house. She hadn’t even set her purse down before they attacked her.”

I look at the woman who sits with her husband’s arms wrapped around her. Her eyes are sunken, and she’s paler than she was while we sat at the table. Reliving this is obviously unpleasant for her, and I feel badly that she has to, so the rest of us can know what happened.

“What you and Enrique couldn’t see was the gun at the base of my neck while Enrique spoke to me. Gérard and Johann insisted I follow you, but I did my best to slow down and lose you a few times in the neighborhood. However, Gérard climbed into the front seat and threw some punches to make me more cooperative. They couldn’t kill me because they didn’t know their way around here. The bruises—” He gestures to his face. “—weren’t as bad as the photos of Catalina they showed me. She was bound and gagged, but I couldn’t tell if they had injured her. I couldn’t make out what kind of car she was in or where they took her. I didn’t think it was a warehouse. I did what I had to keep from antagonizing them. I worried they’d punish Caty instead. I needed to stay alive for her sake and Alejandro’s. I wish I could have put you and Enrique first, but she’s my wife.”

“Matías, I understand this world, and I understand the oath you probably swore was something similar to the Omertà , but I will never fault a person for putting their children and their spouse ahead of others. You risked a great deal to protect your wife and to protect Enrique and me.”

Catalina opens her eyes and looks over at me.

“I wish I’d been warmer to you when we met. I realized what it must have looked like when you saw Matías and me talking, then looking at you. I have to imagine with everything that happened that was disconcerting. I’m certain we left you with more questions and doubts than either of us intended.”

She shifts her gaze to her brother and grins before turning a more subdued expression toward me.

“Matías and I were wagering how long it’ll take Enrique to marry you. Before all of this happened, I said the end of the month. Matías said next month. I wish to adjust my bet. I say the end of this week.”

Enrique chuckles and playfully clears his throat. We’ve barely acknowledged our feelings for each other, and they’re ready to marry us off. But that’s what I alluded to earlier. So much has happened in the past twenty-four hours, never mind the past week or the past few months. I went from being staunchly opposed to being in a committed relationship to now considering remarrying.

I have to give that more thought, but my intuition screams I should seize the opportunity the moment it’s available. I tighten my fingers around Enrique’s hand, his thumb continuing to stroke the back of mine.

“Catalina, did they hurt you?”

“No. I kept waiting for them to, but they were far gentler than I expected. When I stopped fighting them because I realized they were doing their best not to manhandle me, it got much easier. It was never about me. I was merely a means to an end. Luciana would have been an easier target, but they needed leverage over someone.”

I glance at Enrique’s other sister, my heart aching for her with another reminder she’s a widow. The reminders are constantly there. I don’t know how she manages. She’s made peace and moved on, or at least, that’s what it seems. She may mask a world of hurt she wants no one to see. Or maybe she’s hiding it because I’m here, and she’s not ready for somebody outside the family to see her pain. I don’t know her well enough to wager more than a guess, but I hope I can get to know her, and she’ll come to trust me and see me as a friend. Perhaps I can make it a little easier for her sometimes.

I look to Enrique, waiting for him to step in and question his sister. I don’t want to be the one who bombards her, asking her for information. He understands my cue and shifts his attention to Catalina.

“What can you tell us about the men who took you?”

“They barely spoke. When they did, I’m pretty sure it was in Sicilian.”

“Did they say anything that hinted whether they’re from New York or New Jersey?”

Catalina shakes her head. “No, they could’ve easily been from either place. They had no American accent when they spoke Sicilian.”

I’m dying to ask whether she understood any of it. Enrique’s gaze flickers to me before he looks back at Catalina.

“Was there anything you could repeat?”

“No, I didn’t understand any of it. It sounded like Italian, but there was too much that made no sense to me for me to follow along.”

“Did they say anything to you in English or Spanish?

“No, they didn’t say anything to me in either when they first arrived. When I tried to resist them, one snapped ‘ cállate ’ at me.”

That’s not the politest way to tell somebody to be quiet, but it’s hardly the worst thing they could say.

“It was strange they didn’t blindfold me. They gagged me and restrained my hands and feet, but I saw their faces. I think they wanted me to see how far away they were taking me.”

I furrow my brow. Hoboken isn’t that terribly far from here. It makes me realize I assume Catalina and Matías live in Jersey. Enrique understands my confusion.

“They live in Queens.”

I nod. That makes more sense, but it’s still not that far away.

They did it to intimidate her, to make her realize they could go anywhere they wanted, and there was nothing she could do about it. She could watch and wonder, even recognize her surroundings, but they were in control. They didn’t fear she’d tell somebody how to get to her or that she could use her surroundings to help her escape.

They were extremely confident, which means they were pros or incompetent.

I refocus on the conversation as Enrique continues to question Catalina.

“Did the men who took you stay at the warehouse?”

“No, I saw them leave, and I don’t recall them coming back.”

There was a handoff. No one I know outside the Mancinellis and my immediate family speak fluent Sicilian. Tommaso is more than proficient, but he’s only fluent in Italian. Stella’s family only knows a smattering of Sicilian and barely a working knowledge of Italian.

That’s the way it is in a lot of Mafia families these days. They don’t even all speak Italian fluently. I did for work, and it was a family tradition to continue speaking Sicilian. My boys speak it and Italian.

It should narrow down who could’ve kidnapped her. I run through a mental phone book of which mercenaries speak Sicilian. The only ones I can think of are from there. None are Americans. I’ll share that piece of information later unless I’m asked for it now. I don’t want to interrupt Enrique.

I also don’t want to remind anyone why I would know that. It’s bad enough this is about me. I’m certain no one’s forgotten that. Unfortunately, Luciana wants to know more.

“Elodie, do you know who this could be?”

“I can’t think of anyone specific, but I don’t know any Americans who aren’t Mancinellis who speak Sicilian fluently besides my parents, my boys, and me. If they were more than proficient, my guess is someone hired them from Sicily.”

Catalina’s brow creases. “Why would they come all the way from Sicily to kidnap me? That seems excessive.”

“Either they didn’t think they could get to me, or they thought you were better leverage against Enrique and your family.”

In other words, I only matter to Enrique. The rest of the family wouldn’t try that hard to get me back.

I’m trying to map out all the moving pieces. I have too many questions now to remain quiet.

“Enrique, whose men did you find there? I mean other than Gareth’s? Did you recognize any of them?”

“Only O’Briens.”

It’s been a long time since the Mafia and the mob worked together. They’ve had a love-hate relationship for decades. The mob’s the oldest syndicate in America, but the Mafia eclipsed them. They’ve had generations-old rivalries.

“Do you think the O’Briens were the ones who contracted Gérard, Johann, and whoever these men were?”

“Gareth could have gotten Gérard and Johann, but I can’t imagine he would employ any Sicilians. Why would he want to support them in any way when he has men here to do it?”

I nod at what Enrique said.

“You mentioned Salvatore. What do you think his role is in this? Is he the one who provided them? Could they be Don Torretta’s men?”

Luis has been silent so far, but he speaks up now.

“That’s my guess. I think Salvatore hired them to do the part of the job he didn’t trust the O’Briens to do. He only used them as babysitters. He believed men from Sicily would be harder to connect to him with any solid proof because he didn’t think they’d get caught. He also wanted men he knew he could trust to do the job. He won’t trust Gareth farther than he can throw him.”

“But why would Salvatore go after your sister when I know his family’s trying much harder to restore their reputation of no women and children? After what happened with the bratva, they’ve been much better at keeping women and children out of Mafia business.”

Luis’s eyes narrow, once more suspicious of me. I feel like sighing and rolling my eyes.

“Stella Vizzini is one of my closest friends. Tori Carosi is my best friend. Between the two of them, I knew Luca tried to prove himself more to his uncle. He thought arranging a marriage with Stella’s niece would link New York and Chicago. He tried to expand the Mancinellis’ influence practically halfway across the country. I’m certain you know what a disaster that was. Catalina and I don’t look alike beyond dark hair and olive skin, but we were both here, and we both left to go home. Matías was with me rather than his wife. Do you think they confused me for Catalina?”

If that’s what happened, I feel even guiltier than before. Catalina sits up straighter.

“Two men spoke at once. They told me to be quiet. The one closer to me was louder and almost drowned out the other guy, but now I remember the second one called me a whore when he said it.

My shoulders droop as my gaze meets Enrique. They grabbed the wrong woman. If they’re Sicilian, they might not know their way around that well and confused where they were going. Or perhaps they merely followed her not caring where they scooped up the woman they believed was their target. I shift my focus to Catalina.

“I’m entirely the reason they took you. They weren’t targeting Enrique’s sister. They thought you were me. If they knew anything about me—that I was raised Mafia, was married to a Mafioso, and now I’m involved with a narco—they’d see that as a betrayal and that I’ve whored myself out to be involved with Enrique. Not only that, but to have an intimate relationship with a man I’m not married to would allow them to feel justified in calling me that regardless of me being middle-aged. I’m so sorry. It seems so weak in the face of this ordeal, but I feel horrible that they caught you in the middle.”

Luciana leans forward to look around Margherita. “It could’ve just as easily been me or Margherita if all of us were here. Catalina and I resemble each other. And from a distance, Margherita’s hazel eyes look just as dark. She has the same coloring as the two of us and you.”

I know Luciana means to reassure me. However, I’d already thought about how easily she or Margherita could’ve been the victims instead of Catalina. Knowing there were three women instead of just one they could’ve kidnapped does nothing to ease my guilty conscience.

I look back at Enrique. I want to ask him how they’ll handle this. But that’s one question too far. It’s none of my business.

I sit back, fighting the temptation to wrap my arms around myself and hunch my shoulders. I lift my gaze and my head to look at Enrique. Most of his expression hasn’t changed, but I see the concern in his eyes. I wish it were his arms wrapping around me. All of this is so out of control. I wish I could just hand all of this over to him. Let him deal with all of it.

But I know even though he and his men will, I’m not entirely removed from this situation yet. My past life will always chase me. This could happen again. Not just me being the target, but Enrique’s family being collateral damage. I’m selfish to want to have anything to do with Enrique when I bring nothing but danger to his family. The right thing to do would be to walk away.

I hate that idea. And it may be too late for whoever this is not to punish Enrique for his involvement with me. But once this situation is over, then it could just start all over again.

There will always be somebody chasing me, and being more visible now that I’m in a relationship with Enrique will make it easier for people to find me. It’ll antagonize more enemies.

This is why I went to such length to hide my identity. I need to go back underground. I need to put distance between Enrique and me. It’s the last thing I want. It’s the last thing he’ll let me do. I need to make the world understand once and for all I’m retired. To do that, I need to remind them how I earned my reputation.