Page 14

S omething doesn’t feel right. It’s a rustle in the air, a quiet that’s too dead and deep. I don’t need the hairs raising on the nape of my neck to tell me I should get to Kaya right this instant. Instinct is always something I’ve been told to hone since my youngest age, and the cues are familiar now, the messages from my gut a language I know all too well.

I’m barging into the trailer in the next second, stopping still at the sight greeting me. A puddle of blood covers the floor, a small slope worn in from years of use leading the crimson liquid to pool in front of the stove rather than snaking to the door.

Kaya! My frantic gaze scans the space, and the breath lodges in my throat for a millisecond when I see a flash of her dark jeans in my peripheral. A blob of black blocks my vision, and in an instant, I see it’s a man trying to get to her. I slam my boot into the back of his knee, ready to catch him when he’ll inevitably fall toward her.

I didn’t anticipate what happens next. The man is gurgling, a strangled sound coming from his throat. She’s slammed her palm into his Adam’s apple. Good move. As he rears back, Kaya grabs the knife out of his hand and wastes no time in stabbing it into the side of his neck.

Don’t pull it!

One hand braced on the man’s torso, the other reaches for the knife’s handle just as she’s about to pull it out. She just severed the man’s carotid artery. Pulling the knife will ensure a spray from the site as his heart won’t have stopped beating yet. It will look like a bloodbath in here, and we’ll both be hit with the discharge.

Her hand is trembling in my grip, and I clench it tight, then pull her to me as she sags and lets go of the handle. I’ve got her in my arms, and we crash into the torn faux-leather banquette. She’s not clinging to me, her body limp.

Shock.

“It’s okay, ama . I got you,” I murmur softly in her ear all while rocking her tightly to my chest.

As she bursts into tears against my shoulder, I cradle her with more gentleness then travel my gaze around the trailer. What a fucking mess. That’s her father lying in the pool of accumulating blood to the side, and this cazzo here, who the hell is he? It’s clear from the entirely black clothing stealth was his motto. Bastardo was sick in the head, though—a gun with a silencer would’ve done the job just as effectively. He had to bring a knife and get hands-on.

“Kaya,” I ask softly. “What happened?”

We need to get out of here, but not before I’ve handled this situation. Call it the enforcer in me; I can’t leave a mess like this behind. It could catch up to us, especially to Kaya, and none of us can have that. The more I know, the better I can plan our exit. Looks like we’ll be getting out of the US asap, too.

“Kaya, ama .” She’s stopped shaking so much, which I take as a good sign. Her eyes are still a bit glassy when I tilt her chin up. “Are you hurt?”

She swallows hard, then shakes her head. “He… He killed him.”

The words barely come out. The last thing I want to do is press, yet I have to.

“You were a witness.”

At this, a gurgle sounds in her throat. She scrambles out of my grasp just enough to throw up on the other side of the table. Yeah, shock. It’s all catching up with her now. I’m running a hand on her back when she says one word that makes me freeze.

“Daku,” she whispers.

“What?” I ask, my voice as hollow as hers.

“He said something about Daku.”

So that motherfucker is behind this? He’s a dead man. The second I get back to Torino, I’m expiring him. Don’s orders or no, he’s done!

Something slips in the wake of this conviction. Kaya isn’t safe here. He’s sent one man—he can send another.

I’m out of my depths in this country, way out of my jurisdiction. And there’s only one thing a man like me can do in such a position. I pull my phone out, calling Don Giacomo and putting the call on speaker.

“Stefano,” he greets. “Kaya is safely in a hotel?”

That’s the only reason I would’ve called him. He’s in for a wakeup call.

“Someone just tried to kill her,” I say quietly.

There’s loud cursing on his side. “What happened?”

“Daku sent a man after her. He got to her father first.”

“Kaya, she’s safe?”

“She is. She’s right here with me.”

“Kaya? Cara ?” he asks.

“Yes, Don Giacomo,” she mutters. “I’m…I’m okay.”

“Where are you?”

I figure this one is directed at me. “At her father’s trailer in north Portland.”

“Can you deal with this?”

My jaw clenches. I have a plan, but… “The trailer and her padre , yes. The other guy…”

The Don sighs. “You need to get back to Italy asap. Both of you. You’ll have my protection here.”

But not where we are. This is so far away from his clutches, there isn’t much he can do.

“I can’t,” Kaya says.

“Why not?” What is wrong with her? She still wants to stay here, with a target on her back?

“My visa,” she states.

I’m shaking my head, not understanding.

“Kaya overstayed her tourist visa,” the Don supplies.

And as such, she’ll be flagged at immigration and most certainly will be deported back to the US. Merda !

She jumps when my fist slams into the Formica-topped table.

“There could be a solution.”

The Don sounds tentative, which isn’t like him.

“How?”

Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. Kaya, she can’t die. Not on my watch. Not on any watch.

“She can come back if she’s married to an Italian citizen.”

“Wait, what?” she asks, sounding flabbergasted.

She’s echoing my sentiment exactly.

“I can arrange for a Family Reunification visa which will get her back on Italian soil where she can then request a permit of residence. Leave that to me,” Don Giacomo says, the certitude thrumming louder in his voice. “But first, she needs to get married.”

“To whom?” I ask.

“To you of course, stronzo .”

Is there a hint of laughter in his tone now?

And marry her? That’s the dream. Ultimately, I did picture her in my house when I came back from work, waiting for me in front of the kitchen counter where she’d have drinks ready, where I’d be able to topple her forward and fuck her hard, expunging the day inside her and seeking my revival from her pussy clenching tight around my cock, from the skin of her neck under my lips, her rose and juniper scent driving me mad…

Whatever it takes. It will get her back to Italy, safe under my watch, under the Don’s protection. Daku will be a dead man. I’ll send a strong message not to mess with her, with my wife.

My wife.

“Kaya?”

It’s the Don. We must both have gone dead-silent since his bombshell.

“Can you do this? Come back here, come back to me. You cannot stay in the US any longer, cara .”

I’m watching her like a hawk. Far from me to ever force an innocent woman into anything, but this is the only solution.

“Yes,” she finally croaks.

“ Va bene . Vegas isn’t far from you.”

“Two hours by plane, give or take,” I state. We’re on the West coast, so it can’t be that long a trip.

“Do it. Everything will be okay, cara , I promise. Stefano, a word?”

It’s my cue to take the call off speaker.

“ Si ,” I say with the phone to my ear.

“Take care of this situation. Whatever you have to do.”

I sigh. “I might need some help.”

Time is of the essence. I don’t have the luxury of getting to know the lay of the land first and then work my disposal magic.

“Call Valentino. See what he can do.”

It’s good to have his blessing for this. “Will do.”

“And Stefano, bring her back home safe. Kaya, she is precious to me. You bring her back to me by any means necessary, capisce ?”

“ Capizco .”

“Leave the visa thing to me. Vai, vai .”

He cuts the call, and I put the phone down. Kaya is staring at me with too-big eyes, her lower lip slack and wobbling a little. She’s back to trembling all over. It starts small, then builds until it overtakes her.

Pulling her into my arms, I clench her tight and press kisses to her head.

“We’ve got this,” I murmur like a soothing mantra. “Trust me, ama .”

My mind is running through ways I can deal with this situation. There’s no way around it—I need help. I’m calling my cousin next.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Far from it.” I run through what happened, Val silent as he lets me finish. “I have a body I need to get rid of. How do I do that here?”

The trailer, I can deal with, and her father’s corpse along with it. It’s the other guy that’s worrying me.

Valentino sighs. “There’s someone who can take care of this. Let me call him. Stay put. I’ll get back to you within the hour.”

Kaya has stopped trembling now. Pulling away, I notice a speck of red on her pale pink sweater. That’s going to be noticeable. Right, we need to get this production on the road. I’m wearing navy, so any blood will be concealed by the color. One less problem to deal with.

I stand, pulling her to her feet.

“Take your clothes off.”

She blinks once, twice.

“I’m not getting kinky. Your clothes have blood on them. We need to get you cleaned up. Can you walk to the bathroom?”

She glances to the side, dry-retching a bit at the sight of the blood on the floor.

“Skirt that puddle, get in the shower, wash everywhere. Can you do that?”

I can see the moment when she checks out and surrenders control to me. It’s overwhelming, I get it, but we don’t have a choice here. I help her strip off, then hold her hand so she can walk gingerly to the bathroom. When the shower starts, I turn to the trailer and assess what I have to work with. It’s rudimentary, but I’ve trained for this.

My phone vibrates. It’s Valentino.

“Sent you GPS coordinates. This will be on your route to the airport. A car will be waiting for you there for a dead drop. Give them the body, go on your way. There’ll be a plane ready to take you to Vegas.”

“ Grazie , brother.”

It’s been at least half an hour since the guy was stabbed. Livor mortis will have set in, his blood no longer pumping. I take the risk of pulling the knife from his neck. A small trickle of blood gushes out, landing next to where Kaya vomited on the floor. I wipe the knife clean to get rid of her prints on it, then go search for something I can wrap the body in.

Kaya’s finished showering, her naked form dripping wet in the small corridor. Taking her hand, I have her step back to me again. Picking her in my arms, I take her out to the car. A thorough digging in her luggage reveals a pair of jeans, underwear, and another pale cashmere sweater I hand to her in the vehicle. Were we to be picked by any camera on the way, it’d show her in pretty much the same clothes she arrived here in.

The body makes it into the trunk next. Then I’m setting up the trailer and exiting with a soft click of the latch. What I’ve planned will take care of the body and every other bodily fluid in there, damaging all traces for any CSI on the scene.

Kaya’s huddled in the passenger seat. Her hair is still tangled. I find a brush in her bag and smooth it out—it won’t do for her to appear disheveled. Out of it, yeah—she could’ve imbibed a bit too much, no one will know that. But anything else could be a red flag.

At the location Valentino sent me, a dark SUV is indeed waiting. Without a word, the package is exchanged, the knife handed separately. We’re back on the road less than five minutes later as if nothing’s happened. And once at the airport, we’re met by a smiling woman who ushers us out to a small plane waiting to take us to Vegas.

In the dead space under a security camera, I take my phone out and tap the screen. There, done. Portland has been taken care of. Now on to the next leg.