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S ome of the hardest words I’ve ever said are barely out of my mouth when the third black SUV starts to shake with the screaming and pounding coming from inside.

“Angie! Angela!!”

“Mom? Mommy! Oh, my God, Mom!” I forget the police, or FBI, or whoever they are. I race toward the car, and my mother falls out of the back seat, into my arms.

And Ronnie leaps out behind her.

My throat shuts down and my heart stills, then rushes up in a single bound, fueling my incredulous, sobbing cry. “What? You’re alive! You’re alive? They said you disappeared, and that’s mafia for dead, right?” I screech.

For a moment, no words make sense. I’m hugging my parents, my real parents, the only dad I’ve ever really had. We are a sobbing, snotty, incomprehensible mess, until someone with a deep voice barks, “HEY!”

We freeze, clutching each other.

The FBI agent in charge loses his severe look. “Miss Argento, come this way. Out of earshot, please.”

As my three would-be kidnappers are piled into the first two cars, the FBI agent leads us farther away. “Mr. Argento has turned state’s evidence, providing years and years of accounts that prove the Genovese and Argento families were heavily involved in organized crime. Multiple members of those families will face long prison sentences. Mr. Ronald Argento and his wife, Joanne Argento, are being placed in the Federal Witness Relocation program in exchange for their cooperation. Mr. Genovese thought your father ran, hoping to avoid confrontations after you left the city. After that, his increasingly erratic behavior seemed to get worse. He got sloppy, and we tailed him to Pine Ridge earlier this evening.”

I nod, relief swirling through me. “You don’t have to go to jail?” I whisper to Ronnie.

“Nope. Finally doing the right thing for my girls. Being the husband and dad I should have been. And look, Angie, they’ve got places in Oklahoma, Montana, and even New Hampshire! You and Mom pick out the place, and we’ll start over. I’m sorry it won’t be such a lush lifestyle anymore, princess,” Ronnie says, cupping my cheek. “But your mom said you wouldn’t mind.”

“I won’t. But I... I can’t leave. I... Graham! Officers, Mom, Dad, this is Graham Kane. My boyfriend. I mean, fiancé. He protected me and helped me more than you can ever know. I can’t leave him behind.”

“Well... I guess he’s gonna have to come with us,” Mom says, looking over Graham with startled eyes. His long, dark hair is mussed, his shirt and pants are torn, and he’s in his long black leather coat—without shoes.

“Or you could stay here,” Graham offers, spreading his arms wide as if to encompass all of Pine Ridge.

The FBI agent shakes his head. “No, no. They need to be in the WITSEC program. Argento will have a price on his head.”

“We have a very active neighborhood watch,” Mr. Minegold pipes up, still standing back by the first car, giving his statement to another agent, I guess.

“And some of us have very good hearing,” Graham adds with a nervous chuckle. “Angela, they have to do what they have to do. We’ll visit.”

“No, you can’t.” My mom’s eyes overflow again. “They said you have to come with us, Angie. That’s the only way we can stay together. Once we’re in the program, we can’t have contact with anyone who knows us. This case is too big. Too dangerous.”

I swallow. Stay, and never see my parents again? Leave, and never see Graham again?

He’s silent.

I can’t talk over the lump in my throat.

Ronnie is the one who talks, rubbing my back lightly as he does so. “You know, I think those members of the local neighborhood watch did a pretty good job. Don’t you, Jo?”

My mother nods slowly.

“And Graham here kept Angie safe. Didn’t you, son?”

“My life is hers,” Graham says in that beautiful accent, and my mother gives me a look that clearly screams, “Yes! Snag him, honey!”

“This is a little bitty place. Out of the way. And I’ve got some legitimate money that I’ve always kept for a rainy day. I think... I think we’ll stay here. I want to be with my family.”

“Sir, you’re putting your family in danger,” the head FBI agent says.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been doing that for years, because I was scared, a selfish coward who thought I’d never have a family, never have a kid who would have to join this lifestyle. But I’m getting out now. I have a daughter to think of. Maybe some grandkids one day. They’re going to know that their old man was no coward.” Ronnie crosses his arms and gives one firm nod. “That is, if Joanne says it’s okay.”

My mom wraps her arms around Ronnie’s waist, snuggling into him with an adoring look. “It’s okay!”

“You’ll still have to testify, Mr. Argento. That’s part of the deal and the only way you’ll escape a long prison term.”

“Then I’ll testify.”

“We’ll go with him that day,” Graham says staunchly. “He will be under the Kane family’s protection.”

“What’s that? Some other crime family?” the agent asks in alarm.

“No. We’re just a bit fierce.” Graham says. “But Angela is my bride, so her parents are my parents. I won’t let any harm come to them—as long as they stay where I can protect them.”

“Oh, God. Spare me from a bunch of local yokel vigilantes. Fine, fine. I can’t force you to make the smart choice, but you’ll still have an agent assigned to you for the duration of the case, Mr. Argento, and we’ll be in touch. Don’t try to run off. We’ll find you, but maybe not before some of your enemies do.”

“I’m done running. We’re all done running,” Ronnie says, one arm around me, one arm around my mom. “Me and my girls are staying here in this nice little place.”

***

R ONNIE AND JOANNE SIT at my brother’s table in matching blue bathrobes, holding hands. They look much older than I thought they’d be, but then again—almost losing your life and your daughter will do that to you.

“This is a lovely, lovely home, Graham,” Mrs. Argento says.

“It’s not his, Mom, and I don’t care about the size of the house where I live. Money doesn’t matter to me.”

“Well, sweetie, it can’t matter to us too much now, either. Still, we have a good chunk in the bank. Enough to live on until we find work. Put a down payment on a little place.”

Angela bites her lip. “Oh, Mom. No. I’m so... I’m so sorry.”

I know she’s thinking about how hard her mother worked and slaved all those years. I can tell by Ronnie’s face that he’s thinking about it, too.

“You’re still my queen, Jo,” he whispers.

“I know that, honey. I don’t care about the work.”

“What about selling the house in Bayside?” Angela asks. “Surely that’s—”

“An asset the FBI will be liquidating, along with pretty much everything else. Even if we could go back, I wouldn’t risk it,” Mrs. Argento sighs. “Ronnie says he wouldn’t be surprised if the place blew sky high if we were to go back. No, better to sell the place and save the neighbors. I’ll miss all my shoes. And my earrings.” She smiles, the corners of her eyes wet. “But I would rather have you two than all the earrings in the world,” she concludes with a shuddering sigh.

For a minute, there’s silence. I don’t know what to say. “The taxes here are very low. And the rents are good, too. My brother and I came over a few years ago with nothing but money for rent, a truck, and some tools. But look at us now. Of course, Vanessa’s money helped buy this house. That’s my sister-in-law.”

“Oh, sweetie. She looks so sweet. Such a pretty girl. I’ve always wanted Angie to have a sister. This is the next best thing!” Mrs. Argento sounds genuinely cheerful.

“You know what I always wanted to do?” Ronnie says, one hand propped under his chin, eyes distant.

“What, Dad?” Angie asks, rubbing his hand that rests on the table.

They beam at each other every time she says that. “You forgive me, kiddo?” he whispers.

“Yes. But if you get killed, I’m going to be mad at you,” Angela answers, voice thick.

“Hear, hear.” Joanne bangs on the table. “Now, what is it, Ron? What did you want to do?”

“Open a nice little Italian place. You know the kind with checkered tablecloths and candles in wine bottles? Sixteen tables, only open Thursday through Sunday, something like that. A hobby restaurant, where we make and serve good food. Your mom’s lasagna, Angela. My nonna’s veal marsala.”

“You know, this town is wonderful, but as I was telling Angela, it doesn’t have any Italian restaurants unless you count the pizza place near the college.”

Ronnie’s face lights up. “Is that right? Well, we’d do pizza, too, but the real wood-fired stuff.”

“The only one lit by dragons,” Angela laughs.

“What, honey?” Ronnie asks.

“What, Angie? Her mother raises her eyebrows.

“Sweetheart. They’ve had enough for one day. We’ll tell them in June,” I lean down and whisper in her ear.

“What’s in June?” Angela asks.

“Our wedding.”