Page 34 of Malicious Marriage (Mafia Lords of Sin #9)

CLOVER

“ Y ou look nervous.” Dean, relaxing back in the cream-colored lounger with one ankle crossed over his knee, shoots me a comforting smile. “Talk to me.”

I grip the armrests of my own lounger but can’t meet his smile. “This is the first time I’ve been in an airplane.”

“Private jet,” Bobby corrects from somewhere behind me.

“Is there a difference?” I snap.

“Yes,” Bobby, Jack, and Dean all say in unison.

I roll my eyes. “You’re all a bunch of nerds.”

Soft laughter rumbles through the jet, and usually, it would make me feel better, but nothing about this flight feels good. A week ago, Dean came home to cook dinner and sat me down, telling me that he had a real, tangible lead on Hailey due to the quiet work of his private investigator, Andrew.

But the lead was in Greece, halfway across the world.

“Tell me everything again,” I say tightly to Dean. “What Andrew found. It’ll… it’ll help keep me calm.”

“Alright.” Dean lowers his leg and leans forward. “Although a drink might help.”

I shake my head quickly. I need to keep a clear mind for whatever we might find.

“Just before we got married, Andrew was looking into your uncle’s accounts. Through those, he found several much smaller accounts scattered through multiple banks. Not unusual, but what did catch his eye was that several of them hadn’t been touched in four years.”

“Which suggests they were my father’s accounts and my uncle doesn’t know about them.”

“Exactly. One account had a very brief moment of activity where someone tried to access it, but he didn’t get full details until after we were married and he was able to tag each account.

Two weeks ago, someone tried to access the same account but was denied.

The bank trying to access the account was in a small town near the Pindus Mountains.

CCTV is pretty grainy, so it’s hard to work out facial details. ”

“But it could be Hailey.”

“Yes,” Dean says gently. “At the very least, it’s someone who knows about these secret accounts and even if it’s not Hailey, it’s someone who got the information from somewhere.”

“So either Hailey or someone who has Hailey.”

Dean rubs his beard. “I don’t want you to get caught up in sinister thoughts, Clover. You said Hailey likes to travel a lot and she’s been missing, what, six months now? Don’t you think it’s more likely that it is her and she’s just been caught up being a tourist?”

Six months.

“It’s been six months,” I lie. “She wouldn’t stay away by choice.”

Dean’s brow furrows. “My security team will be on standby so as soon as something, anything seems shady, they will act. No matter what the reason, we will bring Hailey home if she’s here.”

He’s so earnest about it and I so badly want it to be true, but my stomach flips once more, and like I’ve been doing for most of the flight, I have to bolt to the bathroom to hurl nothing but stomach acid.

The truth isn’t going to stay hidden much longer.

Maybe I should be scared that Dean will be so angry he’ll leave me in a strange country, or that he’ll kill me here and no one will know since we’re entering Greece via secret means that only he knows.

When I boarded and explained I had no passport, he just smiled at me.

We truly exist in different worlds and I’m in danger of just being collateral in his. Especially after Trisha broke his heart.

But if I get my sister back, it will be worth it.

This is the closest I’ve gotten in four years. I can’t let things slip now.

We land several hours later and Dean takes us to a hotel to clean up. After showering and throwing up one more time, we head out into the small, idyllic town resting at the foot of the Pindus mountains.

“This place looks like a postcard,” I murmur as we pass a small cafe, a gift shop, and a small local art shop. “It doesn’t feel real.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Dean’s hand remains locked in mine.

“So now that we’re here, we need to find the bank.

The account that was almost accessed is just a small checking account, but it was in Hailey’s name.

A woman by the name of Clara presented ID, but it was fake.

We ran it.” Dean reads off the messages in his phone.

“The bank might not give us anything but in a place this small, someone must have seen something.”

The four of us come to a stop at the crossroads.

I glance down each road until I’m distracted by the gorgeous, towering mountains that hang over the town.

Could it be that she was brought here by whoever Malcom sold her to and she’s been imprisoned ever since?

Maybe her attempt to get into the account was her way of sending a cry for help back home, desperately hoping I would notice.

And I did notice.

I’m here, Hailey. I will find you.

“Jack, Bobby, you take those streets. Ask what you can but don’t raise suspicions. As light as I’d like to keep this, we don’t want to alert anyone.”

“Understood.” Bobby sends me a cautious glance then heads off with Jack down one of the streets while Dean and I take the other.

For hours we hop into each shop, from gifts to libraries and even one that looked like an antique store but turned out to be someone’s house.

We ask questions about the town and our friend Clara, but no one seems willing to talk to us.

Most either try to sell us something or laugh as if our questions are ridiculous.

I can’t decipher what they really mean and anxiety twists my stomach into knotted barbed wire.

Until someone finally guides us to the local bar, telling us we’ll find Clara there.

Dean texts Jack while I almost drag him to the bar.

Inside, we’re treated by thick wooden walls, pine tables, handmade stools, and a scent that’s right out of a Christmas movie.

Stag antlers hang on the walls alongside paintings of the mountain and people fishing by the local river.

Multiple people look up when we enter, but other than a curious glance, no one pays us much attention.

Dean leads me to the bar and catches the attention of a burly man with a beard so thick I can barely see his mouth.

“Two lemonades, please,” Dean orders, sliding onto the stool. I sit next to him and glance around, scanning each face for either Hailey or someone I might recognize.

There’s no one. An elderly couple sits near the pool table watching two teenagers rack up the balls. A couple huddles together sharing what looks like a pasta dish and several men with large mugs of beer litter the rest of the tables, all sharing the same conversation.

“Tourist?” the barman asks as he sets our glasses down.

I take the drink and down it quickly, savoring how much sharper it tastes compared to lemonade back home. This entire town looks, smells, and tastes like something out of a dream.

“We’re looking for someone, actually,” Dean says. “But it’s not going so well.”

“Someone round here?” The barman pauses his chopping of fresh lemon slices. “Ain’t many round here.”

“And yet it’s almost impossible to find her.”

“Who?” He resumes chopping.

“Clara.”

The barman’s knife slips right off the lemon and hits the board. Slowly, he lifts his gaze and glances between the two of us. “She in trouble?”

I almost surge out of my seat. “You know her?”

Dean’s hand lands on my thigh to calm me. “She might be,” Dean says. “We’re hoping to avoid that.”

I’m trembling all over and my heart hammers so fast that my teeth ache. The bartender looks us over once more and his beard moves as if he’s chewing something, then he nods just once.

“Come through the back.”

Dean sends another message to Jack and then follows the man as we’re led through the bar and into a small room at the back.

There’s an iron stove in one corner next to some chopped wood logs, a sofa that’s draped in a wool blanket to hide the worn seating underneath, and a stuffed bear near the back door that looms ominously over us as he directs us to sit.

“We don’t have long,” Dean says casually. “Our friends are on their way and don’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Aye,” is all the bartender says and then he leaves.

I clutch Dean’s hand and he soothes me with a soft rumble in his throat. “We’ve got this,” he says quietly. “I’ve got you.”

“What if?—”

“Don’t,” he cautions. “Don’t do that to yourself. Deep breaths.”

He keeps us waiting for almost an hour. With each long minute that ticks past, my heart races faster and faster until it’s just a blur. I can barely sit still and it gets to the point where I feel like I’m about to burst out of my own skin.

And then the door finally opens. A tall woman walks in with rosy cheeks, hair the same color as mine, scooped into a ponytail, and a very angry look on her face.

Dean stands while I remain frozen to the spot, staring into the face of my sister.

“Clara?” Dean asks.

“Clover,” Hailey barks out furiously. “What the fuck are you doing here?”