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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Valentina

With shaking hands, I pack a small duffle bag of Matilda’s winter clothing. I have absolutely nothing left of my own, but Enzo assures me we can stop and pick up a few things.

I dig around in the front hall closet for a pair of sturdier winter boots while Enzo and Luigi discuss the plan.

“You’re sure this location is secure?” I hear Luigi’s rough voice float from the kitchen.

“More secure than anywhere in the city,” Enzo confidently confirms. “Luigi, look… I know you don’t like me, but we have the same end goal right now. To keep Matilda and Valentina safe.”

Silence echoes from the kitchen, and I pause in my rifling, holding my breath.

“You’re right,” Luigi acknowledges. I let go of the breath, and my hands land on an old pair of hiking boots I’d shoved back there. Perfect.

I slip them on and breeze into the kitchen like I wasn’t just eavesdropping on their conversation. Never in my life did I think I’d see Enzo and Uncle Luigi sitting at the same table, quietly sipping coffee.

“You’ll need burner phones,” Luigi says, glancing up at me. “What are you doing about vehicles?”

“One of your guys is getting us phones,” Enzo assures him. “Talked to him earlier. And we’ll be switching vehicles at least once to throw them off our trail.”

Uncle Luigi nods and unfolds his tall, lanky frame from the dining chair. Our eyes meet, and he shoots me a hesitant smile.

“You’ll keep me updated on that plan, then?” he finally asks, placing a hand on Enzo’s shoulder. My heart nearly melts at this brief display of trust.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Luigi nods. “Good luck to you both, then.”

He makes his way outside to meet the cleaning crew he called over. I slip into the seat beside Enzo and lean my head on his shoulder.

“What a morning, huh?” I ask, chuckling despite everything.

“Best morning of my life.” He grins. “Wanna know why?”

“Oh Lord, do I?” I hide my face, pretending to be sick of Enzo’s cheesy lines.

“You do.” He nods assertively. “It’s because I woke up next to the most beautiful woman on earth, and she didn’t storm out of my house this time.”

“I tried, Enzo, I tried.” I laugh, pinching his chin. “You just happened to storm out after me.”

“Nah, all I remember are sweet hugs and kisses in my closet,” he says, smiling down at me.

My cousin bustles into the kitchen, interrupting us with an armful of gadgets. After discussing the devices, we finally set out on the road to a small, private airstrip to meet Matilda.

My heart hammers in my chest while we watch the plane touch down. My little girl is about to meet her father, and she doesn’t even know it.

“You don’t look like a pine tree,” Matilda says thoughtfully, studying Enzo. My heart sinks as soon as I realize where she’s going with this.

“You’d think so, but I’m actually taller than I look,” he jokes, shooting me a confused look and shrugging.

I’m grateful that he rolls with the punches so easily, but Matilda is about to embarrass the crap out of me, and I need to put a stop to it.

“Okay, honeybee,” I try to divert her attention. “Let’s go.”

“Uncle Alfonso and Uncle Luigi always talk about Mama pining over someone,” she continues undeterred. “But pine trees are green.”

He chokes back a laugh and wiggles his eyebrows at me while I nearly melt into the floor. Alfonso bites his lip so hard I’m surprised he doesn’t draw blood.

I shoot him a menacing growl, and he scurries away to grab Matilda’s luggage.

“Ah, you got me,” Enzo says, crouching down to meet her at eye level. He slowly rolls up his sleeve, extending his arm. “See? Green.”

Matilda cracks a smile and gently traces the green watercolor tattoos on his arm.

I watch their interaction with apprehension, trying to decipher how Matilda feels, but she seems surprisingly fine. The initial meeting went smoothly, and she readily accepted the story of “Mama’s friend Enzo.”

I glance around the tiny waiting room in the hangar, keeping an eye out for any sign of danger. Enzo’s right, this is a good idea. I’m too paranoid now that Matilda’s back in the same city as The8.

“Ready to go?” Alfonso asks with a sheepish smile. I glare at him, shaking my head, and he shrugs.

“Pine trees?” I mouth to him, and he chuckles deeply. As embarrassed as I am, a feeling of relief washed over me when he agreed to join us this weekend.

Another practiced shooter and fighter to add to our entourage.

A technician drives a black Cadillac into the hangar, complete with heavily tinted windows and out-of-state license plates.

I gaze questioningly at Enzo, and he nods, letting me know this is our new ride. We load our bags into the trunk and pile into the SUV.

Matilda chatters for the first half of the ride, regaling us with stories of her visit home and asking questions about our destination. Alfonso and Enzo keep her talking, creating a nice distraction for the danger we’re all secretly thinking about.

I’m too nervous to join the conversation, wholly focused on scanning the road and making sure we’re not being followed.

I’m keeping my eye on a black sedan that’s been lingering around us for far too long. When I catch Enzo’s gaze flitting nervously between the rearview mirror and the road ahead, I know we’re being tailed.

“How did they know?” I whisper, trying to keep it between us. Matilda’s distracted by the bridge we’re crossing, but Alfonso leans in, clearly understanding what I’m saying.

“Not sure,” Enzo grits out. “Must have had eyes in the airport.”

“Airports don’t have eyes,” Matilda chimes in, and I nearly jump out of my skin.

“And I sometimes wish you didn’t have ears,” I grumble, leaning back into the seat and trying to relax my restless hands.

Enzo whips out his burner phone and makes a call. I strain to hear his quiet conversation as Alfonso distracts Matilda in the back.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “We need it… Off I-87? Got it.”

Twenty minutes later, we pull into a truck stop and stop at a pump. I check the gas meter, noting that it’s not nearly time for a fill-up, and give him a confused look.

“It’s okay,” he mouths.

The attendant never approaches our vehicle, but I spot the sedan sliding into a parking spot near the main building. Enzo turns around and pastes on a happy smile.

“You know what? I don’t like this car,” he says, trying to sound casual. “What do you say we try a new one?”

“Change cars?” Matilda asks, suddenly interested in the conversation. “We can do that?”

“Sure.” He laughs. “As long as we do it in the magic portal.”

“Mama, I want to go in the magic portal,” she says, eyeing me seriously. I have no idea where Enzo’s going with this, but I play along.

“Is the portal safe?”

“Very safe.” He nods. “But we have to move really quickly, because the portal closes pretty fast.”

“Where is this… portal?” Alfonso asks, trying to get onto the same page.

“Here’s the weird thing,” he says in wonder. “It’s in the car wash.”

“I’ve never been in the car wash!” Matilda announces happily.

“Then let’s go.” Enzo grins.

I catch him checking the rearview mirror and spot a red pickup truck pulling into the rest stop. It lingers near the car wash, and I realize what’s about to happen.

We drive toward the car wash, passing right by the dark sedan that’s been following us. I sneak a peek inside, but even with the tinted windows, I can see it’s empty.

They must be inside or slouched down in their seats.

As we approach, the red pickup enters the industrial-style car wash, big enough to accommodate cargo trucks. We wait at the light and follow the guide when it turns green.

Everything happens so quickly that I barely have time to process.

Enzo swings his door open, swapping places with the man in the truck. Alfonso throws Matilda over his shoulder and slips into the backseat.

I glance at the trunk with our suitcases, but when I hear Enzo start the truck up, I sprint to the passenger side and slide in.

In under a minute, we’ve switched vehicles and are on the road in our brand-new pickup. Although “brand new” might be a stretch—this thing is rusty and decades old, with patchwork leather seats and a hula girl bolted to the dash.

“Where the hell did you get this thing?” I laugh as Enzo cruises back onto the highway. He chuckles and shoots me a wink but refuses to answer.

I confirm the sedan is no longer following us as we speed down the interstate toward our secret haven.

After a few miles, I finally spot signs for the town of Willowdale. Enzo turns off the main road, and we drive through the small town center.

I can’t help but smile when I see the pastel homes, flower boxes in every window, large oak trees lining the streets, and cutesy businesses. This is exactly the type of place where I’ve always wanted to live—and raise my daughter.

“Welcome to small-town Americana,” Enzo jokes.

“It’s cute!” I say defensively, even though I have no attachment to this place.

“Sure,” he snickers, “if you like that 1950s-nuclear-family, white-picket-fence thing.”

“Some people do,” I sniff haughtily and plaster my nose to the window. He shoots me a confused glance but doesn’t push the subject.

We turn off Main Street and head down a long driveway, pastures on either side of it. I imagine what this place must look like in the summer when it’s in full bloom.

When we finally pull up to the house, my jaw nearly unhinges. In front of me sits a pastel fucking pink gingerbread house, complete with a shingled roof and wraparound porch.

“Mama, it’s pink!” Matilda screeches from the backseat, bouncing up and down.

“I see that,” I say in wonder, jealous that people actually get to live in places like this.

“There’s Lux,” Enzo points out as a drop-dead beautiful woman walks out onto the porch with a baby perched on her hip.

We climb out of the car and head to the front door. The woman, Lux, breaks into a huge grin when she spots us and I swear, it’s like she summoned the sun right out of hiding.

“Bestie!” she whoops when she spots Enzo. “And bestie’s friends! Welcome!”

Enzo tackles her in a giant bear hug, and for a second, pure, vile jealousy tightens around my wretched heart. This beautiful blonde goddess is Enzo’s best friend?

When Enzo shyly introduces me, Lux nods and shoots me a warm, knowing smile, and the jealous tension begins to melt away.

“I’ve heard so much about you.” She grins, and I instantly know we’re going to be friends.