Page 19

Chapter 18

For a week after taking the surveyor course, Dane and I walked the stretch of beach we were assigned every morning at dawn. We didn’t see a single turtle until…

“That was so exciting,” I squealed, skipping in front of Dane and turning to walk backward. “I can’t believe we actually saw the mama turtle covering her nest and heading back to the sea. They’re usually gone way before dawn.”

“I know,” Dane said, bemusement quirking his lips up. Of course he knew. He’d attended the class too, which still flabbergasted me. “I think it’s crazy that the females lay their clutch, head off to the water, and never see their hatchlings.”

“Reminds me of my mother,” I quipped.

“Would you turn around before you—Dammit!” Dane lunged forward and caught me beneath my armpits when I stumbled over a rock in the path. “Shit, are you okay?”

I rested my hands on his chest to balance myself and laughed. I was a little giddy from seeing our first turtle of the mating season. My hands slid down his abs before removing themselves from his body, and I didn’t miss the hardness beneath his pale-yellow V-neck T-shirt. My laughter faded away as I realized I was fondling him.

“Sorry. I’m fine,” I mumbled, swiveling around to face the direction of our house again.

“My wife can cop a feel any time,” he assured me, taking my hand securely in his as we walked.

“Shut up, Dillweed.” There was no heat behind the words. Though I’d never admit it to him, I was beginning to rather like the way my fake husband flirted with me. And the constant hand-holding. I really liked that. Sure, he was only playing a role, but it still gave me a sense of security.

Which officially made me an insane person. Dane Osbourne was still Damiano Cappitani, and Damiano was a very dangerous man. But, I reminded myself, he had saved me from a horrific situation, and then he literally saved my life.

I looked up at his profile. His crooked nose was perfectly straight now, slim at the top and flaring at the nostrils. His already olive skin had deepened to a darker tone after only a week in the Keys, and his black hair now reached his collar.

The kicker was that damn beard, thick and dark, which covered the lower half of his face. I’d never been attracted to a man with full facial hair before, but dayum ! Even I had to admit my pretend husband was a hottie.

When he’d kissed me that day while Robert took photos of us, the slight scratch of his beard and mustache against my face had caused tingles in some very inconvenient places. It disturbed me because I was not supposed to be attracted to this man.

Women have been attracted to bad boys for centuries, Eden. Just look at Giacomo Casanova and Black Bart, both unrepentant rakes who were notorious with the ladies.

While true, that had never been me. I liked clean-cut, nice guys who majored in business and whose biggest crime was driving their sports cars too fast. And look how well that worked out for you with Marty.

Flicking away all those thoughts, I asked, “Once all this is resolved, like, if your father is out of the picture, will you go back to your previous… occupation?”

Dane glanced down with a sardonic lift of his eyebrow. “You mean go back to work for the family? No.”

“Why?”

He chewed on his bottom lip for a long beat. “I guess I haven’t had options before, and now I do. Working for the Mafia isn’t great for one’s health,” he said, bitterness surrounding his pronouncement. “I never realized how taxing it was to be constantly looking over your shoulder.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing now? Looking over our shoulders?”

Dane tilted his head from side to side a couple times. “Yes, but it’s different from being surrounded by criminals all day, every day. Almost everyone I worked with at the nightclub was connected somehow. Down here, I feel like that life is a million miles away. Like I can breathe easy. I like it.”

“I would think the life of a lowly sea turtle wrangler would be boring as hell for you.”

He burst into laughter. “Trust me, that’s about as much excitement as I want.” His big hand squeezed mine and he smiled down at me. “And it was exciting this morning. That mama turtle looked way bigger in real life than I was expecting. What do you think she weighed?”

“Probably close to three hundred pounds,” I surmised.

As we approached our backyard, a red and yellow Nerf football rolled across the grass, stopping at our feet. Dane bent to pick it up as a tiny boy came barreling toward us, his harried mother trying to keep up.

“Footbawwwwwl!” he shrieked, holding his hands up for the ball.

“There you go, buddy,” Dane said, handing it over.

“So sorry about that,” the woman said, finally catching up. “You must be Eden and Dane. Mimsy said you two were staying in the Smith house for a while.”

“That’s us, and it’s no problem,” I said, giving the woman a smile. She had blonde hair scraped into a haphazard ponytail and a pretty, round face. “Are you Charlisse?”

“What’s left of her,” she joked.

I squatted to the kid—who I remembered was named Cooper—and poked his belly. “And you must be… don’t tell me. Let me guess.” Tapping my chin with my index finger, I hummed. “Hmmm, you look like your name would be Booper.”

“Nooo,” he giggled.

“I feel like I’m on the right track though. Is it Pooper?”

He fell onto the grass, holding his belly as he laughed. “I’m dying of funny-ness.”

We all laughed right along with him. The kid was freaking adorable with chubby cheeks, blue eyes that matched his mother’s, and sandy-brown hair.

“Okay,” I conceded. “I get one more guess. I’m going to say Cooper.”

His mouth popped into a little O as his eyes turned into saucers. “That’s right. I is Cooper.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Cooper,” I told him, helping him to his feet. “I’m Eden, and this is Dane.”

His gaze traveled up and up. “You’re really tall, and you have dirt on your shirt.”

“Cooper!” his mother hiss-scolded him before turning her pleading eyes on Dane. “I am sooo sorry.”

“Nah, that’s alright. I do have dirt on my shirt because I’ve been down at the beach,” Dane said easily.

“That’s where we’re going,” the little boy said. “We’re going to play footbawwwl.”

“Yes, we’re going now.” Charlisse rolled her eyes and muttered, “Before my kid says anything else to embarrass me.”

Dane chuckled. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” she said, swiping some grass from her son’s hair as they walked toward Sombrero Beach.

Pinching my tongue between my teeth, I piped pink icing onto one of the cupcakes Dane had made that afternoon. “This sucks,” I griped, watching as the lopsided form took shape.

Dane inspected it and wisely set it down without a word, but he was obviously unimpressed. In the time it took me to make one ugly cupcake, he’d already finished a half dozen. And they looked freaking spectacular.

“Why do yours look so good?” I grumped, setting down my piping bag. “Yours look like Michael Jackson cupcakes, and I’m over here making Tito.”

Dane cackled and cast my catastrophic attempt one more glance. “You just need practice.”

I leaned forward with my chin in my hand. “Or I could just watch the master do his thing.”

“That works too,” he said, picking up a sheet of wax paper with tiny purple bits of frosting on it. When the hell did he make those? I watched with fascination as he peeled off each purple bit and placed them on top of one of the cupcakes with tweezers until they formed…

“Is that a lilac?” I breathed as he adjusted one of the frosting petals until it was exactly where he wanted it.

“Mmhmmm,” he hummed absently, holding it up and scrutinizing it like he was a jeweler who had just acquired the Hope Diamond. “I think the petals dried a little dark and with too much blue. I’ll lighten it and add a little pink next time.”

I lifted skeptical eyebrows at his self-criticism. “Looks perfect to me. ”

Giving a one-shoulder shrug, he placed the masterpiece in front of me with a shy smile on his face. “See how it tastes.”

“This is for me?” I couldn’t disguise the utter delight in my voice. “It’s too pretty to eat.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I made it for you to eat. We’ll take some to Charles and Mimsy too when we return the brownie plate.”

“Are there enough for Charlisse and Cooper too?”

Dane gave me a flat look and gestured toward the two dozen cupcakes on the counter. “I think we could manage to spare a few.” Then his brow furrowed and he turned to the leftover white frosting before separating it, adding food color gel, and stirring it in. Four minutes later, he had created a perfect three-dimensional replica of Cooper’s red and yellow Nerf football on the top of one.

“How the hell do you do that?” I asked incredulously. This man’s big hands were super talented in the delicate art of decorating.

“It’s easy once you get the hang of it,” he said, leaning both forearms on the other side of the breakfast bar, facing me. I valiantly refrained from looking at the combination of pretty ink, masculine hair, and thick veins. Mostly refrained. He nodded toward my still untouched cupcake. “You gonna eat that or stare at it all day?”

“I thought I’d stare at it,” I shot back smartly. Dane reached for my treat, and I smacked his hand. “Bah! Hands off. I’ll eat it.” I picked it up, pulled back the foil-paper cup, and took a large bite. The frosting was piled so high, my nose ended up in the sugary dollop.

“Well?” Dane asked anxiously.

“Ohmygurd,” I mumbled around the mouthful of pure heaven. “Give me a minute; my tongue is having an orgasm.” The frosting was rich and sweet, the cake moist, buttery, and cloud-like.

His voice was low and deep as his brown eyes dropped to my mouth. “I like seeing you enjoy my flavors.” The words sounded distinctly dirty, and I lifted my free hand to swipe at my nose. Dane stopped me with a hand wrapped around my wrist before stretching across the countertop and sucking the frosting from my nose.

He sucked it. From. My. Nose. With his mouth. Sweet Jesus.

“Dane,” I said in my best scolding voice, which wasn’t very effective, to be honest. I sounded like a breathless damsel.

“It’s my job to keep my wife clean,” he replied with his smug-ass lips… which he was now licking. Why does everything he says sound like an innuendo? Then, like he’d done that night Charles and Mimsy were over, he kissed the tip of my nose.

Touching the spot with the tips of my fingers, I asked, “Are you obsessed with my nose or something?”

“It’s a really cute nose,” he replied, as if that explained it. “It should be cherished.”

“Gee, I’m honored,” I said, going in for another bite, which was as delectable as the first. “Seriously, this is the best cupcake I’ve ever had. It might be my new favorite dessert.”

Looking scandalized, he whispered, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell the tiramisù you’re cheating on it.” He was only inches from my face, and his words brushed against my lips on a sweet breeze of sugar and vanilla. “May I?”

I thought he was asking permission to kiss me, and I nodded dumbly— whyyy did I do that? —but he simply bent his head and took a bite of the cupcake I was still holding. A wave of something akin to disappointment washed over me, but I ignored it.

“Mmm,” he hummed speculatively, and that soft noise was distinctly sexual. Or maybe I was just delusional and needy. “Might add a drop more vanilla to the batter next time.”

Clearing my throat, as if that would clear the wayward thoughts from my mind, I said, “Definitely. I could only eat seven of these in one sitting without that extra drop of vanilla.” Then I pretended to shudder in revulsion, earning me a laugh from Dane.

“You’re a smartass, little Wildcat.” He didn’t look mad about it though. The grin on his lips told me he appreciated my cheekiness. Which was fortunate because I grew up with two brothers. Smartass was a required mode for survival.

“Well, you have frosting in your beard,” I retorted.

“Where?” he asked, making no move to wipe it away.

“Right there.” I pointed, my finger less than an inch away from the pink blob.

“Get it for me.” It was a command rather than a request, and my obedient finger swiped it away. Before I could register a coherent thought about what I was doing, I stuck my finger in my mouth and sucked.

Dane’s eyes hooded and dropped to my lips, following the glide of my wet finger from my mouth with intense interest.

“Thank you, wife,” he said softly. “Wouldn’t want your husband to be all dirty, would you?”

Yes!

Jiminy Christmas, Evie. Eden. Whatever the hell my name is now. I was obviously not in my right mind.

Bolstering my spine, I pushed my stool back and stood. “Nope. Definitely can’t have that.” I began placing the pink cupcakes on Charles and Mimsy’s platter. “Why don’t you finish decorating while I plate these?” And stare at your large, rough fingers squeezing that piping bag like…

Gaaah! Stop it right now, woman!

Studiously avoiding the sight of Dane decorating adorable pink cupcakes, I busied myself with cleaning up the kitchen.

I was seriously attracted to him and doing my best not to admit that I was a full-fledged fake-husband slut.

The next eight weeks passed slowly and in a blur at the same time. While June seemed to have arrived before I knew it, the pace of island life was easy and laid back. My restlessness over when I’d see my family again relaxed as I settled into my current reality. I would be with them as soon as Leo Cappitani decided to finally do something about Luca.

And by do something , I meant whacking… sleeping with the fishes… fitting him with a pair of concrete shoes and taking him for a swim in the Atlantic. This was a new phenomenon for me because I’d never wished another human dead. Sure, maybe I’d hoped my mother would come down with an embarrassing skin rash all over her face when she was being particularly nasty, but death? Nope. Never.

But I could honestly say that I wouldn’t shed a tear if Luca Cappitani ended up six feet under. And not just because he’d tried to buy me from a human trafficking ring. No, the way he treated Dane was the final nail in the proverbial coffin. The asshole had absolutely no redeeming qualities that I could tell.

Dane and I had fallen into a bit of a routine since arriving here. Every morning we walked the beach on turtle duty, and then we’d spend the rest of the day at the beach or exploring the town.

On Friday afternoons, we baked. Well, he baked and I watched in a very supportive way. And with every single batch, he made a special dessert just for me… one with a lilac on top. He played around with different flavors and fillings, but the one constant was that lilac made of frosting. And with each nibble of sugary flower, I hated Dane a little less. In fact, I wasn’t sure I’d ever hated him all that much. I hated my situation, and he was the nearest target.

Sometimes we had dinner with the Mimses, and I met up with Charlisse for coffee a few times while her little boy drove toy trucks up and down our arms. I adored all of them and hoped we could stay in touch once I returned to New York. I didn’t like lying to them, but I was sure they’d understand once the truth came out about why I had to be deceptive.

One Friday evening, we were sitting on Charles and Mimsy’s back porch, munching on the almond vanilla cupcakes Dane made earlier. “Damn, son!” Charles boomed, taking a big bite. “What’s this filling? Blackberry?”

“It’s a combination of blackberry and raspberry,” he replied. “I haven’t tried that before.”

“Well, it’s fantastic. You should come work at my bakery. These would fly out of the case like they had wings.”

“Charles!” his wife scolded. “Dane is on his honeymoon. All he wants to do is spend time with his blushing bride.” She waggled suggestive eyebrows at me, and my cheeks did indeed pinken at the implication.

“I’ll write down the recipe for you,” Dane replied. “You’re welcome to use it at the bakery.”

“Mighty nice of you,” Charles said, reaching for the other half of his cupcake before his wife whisked it away.

“Your blood sugar,” she warned, and the man gave a disgruntled sniff but didn’t otherwise protest. She fanned her face with a cardstock fan on a stick she’d gotten at the local bookstore. It featured a bare-chested man who was apparently the cover model for a romance book.

Dane’s hand went to his hip pocket, and I instantly recognized the unique ringtone of his burner phone. “Excuse me. I need to grab this,” he said, rising and heading inside the house. Fiero only called about every ten days, and each time he did, I waited for him to tell us that Luca was out of the picture and it was safe for me to go home.

I nodded along while Mimsy chattered, trying not to look as distracted as I felt. Is this the phone call we’ve been waiting for?

“Have you read this one?” the woman asked, waving the fan at me. “It’s a Mafia romance. The mouth on this man will twist your knickers.”

Great, a Mafia romance. Exactly what I need, the sarcastic portion of my brain censured.

“No, I haven’t read it, but I did enjoy that cowboy romance you gave me last week.”

Mimsy closed her eyes and resumed fanning her face against the muggy Florida heat. “My Charles used to be a cowboy, you know. He was raised on a ranch. He asked me out twice, and I said no both times. Then I saw him riding across the pasture on his horse, and wooo-weee!”

“I had a much better figure back then,” Charles said, giving his belly a self-deprecating pat.

I listened as the two of them reminisced about the beginning of their relationship, and I fell in love with their story. Charles and Mimsy were the cutest couple I’d ever encountered, and I found myself wishing my dad had a relationship like theirs. He deserved someone warm and outgoing, and I wondered, not for the first time, why he and my mother were even still married. They slept in separate rooms, and they never went out together, other than the occasional gala or other event.

When Dane returned to the porch, I knew immediately that something was not right. His lips were pinched into a tight line, and his eyes skittered around before finally landing on mine.

Covering my mouth with one hand, I feigned a yawn. “This has been so nice, but I think I’m ready to call it a night.”

“Of course,” Mimsy crooned. “You sweethearts need time for yourselves. Thank you for hanging out with the old folks tonight.”

“It was our pleasure,” Dane said, his lips turning up slightly. “We’ll have you two over for dinner next week.”

After a round of goodbyes, he took my hand and led me across the backyard to the house where we were staying. “What’s going on?” I asked, but he shook his head.

“Inside.” He unlocked the back door and led me inside and to the couch. “Sit.”

All these one-word commands annoyed me, but I did as he said, watching him pace back and forth on the other side of the coffee table. Spearing both hands in his hair, he tugged before stopping his feet and dropping his hands to his sides.

“Leo is dead.”

Well, that wasn’t what I expected him to say. “He… how?”

“It was an apparent heart attack.”

“Apparent?” Dane’s eyes met mine with a heavy and significant stare. “You think your father had something to do with it?”

A gust of air rushed from his mouth, making his lips purse. “Fuck, I don’t know. Fiero said Luca and Leo had a meeting two days ago, and then Leo’s maid found him dead in his bed yesterday morning. The timing may be coincidental, but I wouldn’t put it past my father to have… facilitated his death.”

“Shit, what does that mean?”

“It means Luca is now the head of the family. He’s the new Don.”

My heart dropped to the floor, even as my stomach tried to rise up into my throat. “And what does that mean for us?” I asked in a voice so faint it was practically inaudible. Because I already knew.

Dane walked toward me, slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, which was exactly how I felt. He kneeled in front of me, his own words spoken as softly as mine. “It means we can’t go back, Eden. My father is now one of the most powerful men in New York City, and there’s no one who can stop him.”

“I don’t care,” I said, shaking my head from side to side. “I don’t care. I want to go home.”

“Are you willing to take the risk? To you and your family?” His eyes snagged mine and held, like an embedded fishhook. “Because if you are, I will send you back to New York.”

I didn’t even get to experience a second of elation before the images Robert had planted in my brain began to bloom. I squeezed my eyes shut to block them out, but that didn’t help because they were ingrained there, seared into my soul.

Bile rose in my throat as, one by one, my family’s smiling faces flashed in my mind but those pretty pictures were wiped away by the gruesome and brutal visions of their deaths. Dad. Mother. Auburn. Monty. Blood and unstaring eyes.

No!

“Damn you for making me choose,” I whispered as the tears began to fall. “Why can’t you just… just… force me to stay here?”

Dane’s next words were delivered quietly but with so much underlying force, they almost knocked me backward. “Because. I. Am. Not. My. Fucking. Father.” His tone was fierce and vehement, but his eyes held the slightest scrap of vulnerability, like maybe he needed reassurance that he wasn’t evil to his core.

How can I want to scratch his eyes out and give him a hug at the same time? I opted for neither option and merely said, “I know you’re not, Dane.”

He grunted his appreciation and rolled his lips inward until the pink was no longer visible before averting his eyes toward my knees. “I’m sorry I can’t take you to your family, E.” His watery gaze slowly rose to mine. “I know this sucks, and I can’t promise to fix your pain, but what I can promise is that you won’t have to go through it by yourself.”

Fuck.

That was really… kind. And entirely heartfelt based on the sincerity shining from his eyes. My hand lifted of its own free will and rested on the side of Dane’s face, the soft beard comforting against my palm.

“Thank you for saying that.”

He leaned into my touch and closed his eyes. “Do you want me to go to New York and… handle things?”

“Handle what—” My voice faltered when I caught his meaning. He was offering to kill his own father. A crack formed at the bottom of my heart and worked its way to the top as I shook my head. “No. Don’t. I don’t want you to kill anyone else for me.”

His eyelids lifted, and his stare was so intense I found it impossible to look away. “Are you sure? Because I will.”

I felt like my body was being ripped in half, dividing me into two equal parts, each of them fighting for what they wanted. The side of decency won by a slight margin.

“I’m sure.”

Dane tilted his head slightly, and he kissed my palm before pushing up from his knees. “There’s something else,” he said as he sat beside me on the couch.

“More good news?” I asked with more than a little bitterness.

“Afraid so,” he said, and I could hear the weariness in his tone. Resting his elbows on his knees, he stared at the floor before swiveling his head a little so I could see his face. “You remember when we borrowed Jamie’s sedan and went for an evening drive?”

My head bobbed up and down. “Yes. We wanted to get out of the house for a little bit.”

“And I wanted to gas the car up before we took it back, so we stopped at that little convenience store.”

“And?” I prompted.

“And the clerk in there might have recognized you.”

My hand went to my throat as the revelation dropped like a bombshell. “No.”

“You weren’t wearing your contacts because we didn’t think we’d be getting out of the car…”

“But I had to pee,” I finished, remembering that I’d gone inside to use the restroom.

“Yes. The lady thought you looked familiar but she didn’t realize who you looked like until the next day when she saw your picture on TV. She wasn’t certain though, just told the local police that you looked similar to the woman on the news. They called the Feds who came down to investigate. My father has people on the inside at the FBI, and this information finally made its way to him on Monday.”

“But if he knows I didn’t blow up in the helicopter, he’ll know you didn’t either,” I said, my voice rising in panic. “And then he’ll come looking for us.”

Dane patted my hand and then left his on top of mine. “Don’t freak out. He doesn’t know anything for sure.”

“So… what does this mean? What do we do now?” I asked, a sense of self-preservation kicking in.

“Robert is going to do some research and see what he can find out. I called him as soon as I got off the phone with Fiero.”

“Do you think we have to leave here?” The thought of that overwhelmed me with sadness. The town of Marathon wasn’t my home, but it was the closest thing I had over the past couple months.

“I don’t think so. You were spotted over seven hours away from here, so I’m sure they’ll be focused in the Jacksonville area.”

Dane removed his hand from mine and clasped it with his free one, dropping his head and averting his gaze to the floor. He was silent, knuckles turning white and then pink as he clenched and unclenched them. Something was definitely bothering him… something he wasn’t telling me.

An idea struck me like a bolt of lightning, searing my nerve endings. “That store is only a couple miles from Jamie and Robert’s house. Are they—”

“They’re fine. My father knows nothing about Jamie,” Dane broke in, “and Robert looks way different than he did eight years ago. He’s going to lay low for a bit, just to be safe, though I don’t think Luca would recognize him even if he met him face to face.”

I breathed out a long sigh. “That makes me feel a little better. I would never forgive myself if something happened to them because of me. They’ve been so good to us.” I stared at the side of Dane’s face. He still wouldn’t meet my eye. “What are you hiding from me?”

Small lines formed at the corner of his eye as he scowled at the floor between his feet. “I don’t want you to overreact, Eden.” He paused for a long moment, and my chest tightened, waiting for his next words. “First of all, your family is fine.”

“Why wouldn’t they be fine?” I asked, trying to control the shaking of my hands.

Dane huffed out a long exhale before flopping back onto the couch. “There was a small fire at your parents’ house. They. Are. Fine,” he reiterated, finally looking at me with trepidation.

“A fire?” My voice seemed to be reaching dog-whistle levels.

“A small fire.” His lips thinned. “The day after Luca heard from his contact at the FBI.”

“Oh my fucking god. He’s going after my family?”

He swiveled sideways on the couch, facing me full on and grasping both my hands. “Eden, if he was going after them, it would already be too late.” My throat clogged with a painful lump. “Fiero seems to think it was a message… or a trap… for us.”

“I don’t understand,” I wailed, my chin trembling.

“My brother is relaying what information he can to me, but he doesn’t know everything. He’s simply speculating about the cause of the fire. Because of the coincidental timing.”

“I need to call my dad,” I said in a rush, reaching into my pocket for my phone. “I need to know he and my mother are okay.”

Before I could touch the screen, the phone was snatched from my hand. “No, Eden.” He wedged the device beneath his leg, and my fingers itched to push him over and grab it. “I know what you’re thinking, and don’t even try it,” Dane warned.

“Give. Me. My. Phone,” I bit out.

“No,” he snapped. “This is what I meant when I said it could be a trap. If Luca did have one of his men set that fire, it means he has your family under surveillance to make sure you’re not in contact with them. He probably even tapped their phones, and as soon as you call, he’ll know for sure.”

My eyes widened in horror. “He’s diabolical.”

“I’m aware,” Dane said dryly, slowly removing my phone from beneath his thigh. “I found a short clip from one of the New York news stations about the fire. Would you like to see?”

My answer came immediately. “Yes.”

His thumbs flew over the keys, and then he tapped the play icon on a video before handing me the phone.

A female newscaster with her blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail spoke into the camera. “Firefighters were called to the home of fashion icon Paul Bouvier in the early hours of Wednesday morning. Greg, what did you find out?”

The view switched to a man—presumably Greg—in front of my old house. A squeak escaped from my lips, but I quickly suppressed it as the reporter spoke. “Thank you, Linda. The fire began at about one in the morning. Mr. Bouvier was reportedly in the home alone and smelled smoke. Firefighters responded within minutes, and the flames were extinguished quickly. I spoke with one fireman, and he told me it appeared to be an electrical fire.”

The camera angle changed, showing smoke coming out of an upstairs room, and I paused the video when I recognized my dad off to one side, speaking to a female firefighter. He was wearing plaid pajama pants and a gray long-sleeved T-shirt.

“Dad,” I whispered, ghosting my finger over his image on the screen. That’s when I noticed where the smoke was coming from. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Dane asked, leaning closer to peer at the screen.

My eyes were wider than a full moon. “Th-that’s my bedroom.”

The grim set of Dane’s mouth told me he had the same question as me. Was my bedroom targeted specifically?

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “I’m going to hire some people to keep an eye on your family.”

“Y-you are?” I stuttered.

He lifted my chin with two fingers and kissed the tip of my nose, letting his lips linger there for a second. “Of course, baby. Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid. If I wasn’t sure before, the fact that it’s your room where the fire was sealed the deal. I’m almost positive this is a test.”

Everything inside me yearned to call my dad. My bones ached with it, but I was so afraid Dane was right about this. His father scared the shit out of me.

“Do you think he’ll do anything to my brothers?” I asked, nestling my face into his neck and inhaling his musky cologne.

“Luca is a complete prick, but he’s not stupid. Two attacks on the same family would definitely draw attention, and that’s the last thing he wants. He’s just testing us to see if he will get a response. If there’s not one, he’ll assume we’re really dead and move on to other things.”

I nodded as he stroked the back of my neck and down my spine. “Okay, I won’t call them.” Lifting my head, I looked intently into his eyes and forced my voice into something stern. “I want to know everything you find out from the people watching my family.”

“I promise,” he said, not looking away. “Why don’t you get to bed, and I’ll make some phone calls? Get all that set up.”

“Okay,” I said again, rising on shaky legs.

As soon as my head hit the pillow, I allowed my tears to fall, soaking the soft fabric beneath my cheek until I fell asleep.

And that’s the night my nightmares began.