Page 34 of The Mafia Assassin’s Redemption (Mafia Obsession #2)

TWENTY-SIX

harry

I was ready to run the second I got out of the shower.

And now, Torin sits on the bed opposite me on the sofa.

He watches me, those midnight eyes unreadable, dark hair curling, and I like that he hasn’t shaved. I can feel the burn of his kisses where his stubble scraped against my skin.

I gulp. Wrong time to be thinking that.

It’s just…

I blow out a breath, settle my thrashing heart, and look at the photos.

Mom and Dad on their wedding day. Mom at about sixteen. Mom young and happy and pregnant with me. Her and me and Dad. There’s also one of me at eight years old. I know my age because that’s when I lost my first front tooth.

I carefully push them around on the coffee table.

Torin’s gaze drops to them, but he doesn’t pick them up.

“Do you have something to say?” I snap.

“My mam taught me to shut my mouth in certain circumstances.” He’s quiet for a long minute. “Do you want me to say something?”

I smooth the letter out. The one-page letter. The impersonal on too many levels letter. I want him to tell me I’m being childish, rude, and ungrateful.

Because I am.

The thing is, my eyes ache, my heart’s cracking, and I want, more than anything else, to be hugged.

I look down. “I’m not usually a rude person. Am I?”

“You’re asking your worst enemy that? Or am I your best enemy?”

A half sob, half laugh breaks free. “Don’t.”

He sighs, walks over to me, and motions to the empty spot on the couch. I nod. He sits, and there’s a big part of me that is suddenly calmed by having him so close.

“It’s just… I get it,” I say, “but if Father Luigi had this letter like you say, why didn’t he give it to me sooner?”

He shrugs.

“I don’t know, Harry. Maybe he needed to wait, or he didn’t want you upset or… y’know, there are a million reasons people do things. And sometimes a split second is all it takes for the right moment to pass, and you’ll never get it back.”

I look at him, half mesmerized because I’m not sure he’s talking about the letter at all. Or Father Luigi. “But it’s just a letter.”

“Yeah, it is.”

He could read it from where he’s sitting, but I edge closer to him for some reason. When we’re shoulder to shoulder, me against him, he snakes his arm loosely around me, his fingers sliding through my hair.

It’s not a conventional hug, but it’s from him, and I’ll take it. Here I can close my eyes and breathe him in. Here I can turn my head and let his heat take over. Here I can just be.

I gulp down air, then scoot in a little closer.

“My mom… I don’t know. It sort of sucks as a goodbye letter. She was… more than this. ”

“Maybe it’s not a goodbye letter. Maybe it’s more of a ‘I hope this isn’t but just in case’ scenario?” He points at the piece of paper. “May I?”

I nod.

He moves his arm and then reaches for my hand, holding it as he takes the letter with his free one.

“I hope you never read this, Harriet, and we all got out. But if we didn’t, then I want you to know the truth…”

He breaks off and sits up straight, reading a little faster, my hand still gripped in his.

“We owed a lot of money to the Rao family, which is why we went to Ireland, to start over. I’ve told you all this in person.

But you’re old enough now, I assume, to understand mafia ways, even if it’s just through stories or the media.

Anyway, the money that needed to be paid back was triple the original amount.

Because we never wanted them to come after you or your fortune, I had mine put into trust with Anthony for you.

But the money owed had to be paid back or interest would keep building and we’d keep owing. So they put a hit out on us.

Three months after we went to Ireland, we arranged for our fake death certificates to be made available right after a final payment was made, just in case something happened, so we could disappear together. A copy was to be sent to the Rao family in Italy by way of St. Jane’s in New York.

Since we’ve given most of our life savings and your father’s fortune away, you’ll have my inheritance. And if the worst happened and we’re gone, always know that you’re loved, my little moonlight girl.”

I swallow down a sob. “It’s…”

“Harry, I’m sorry it’s just the explanation from a mom who thought she’d survive.” A bleakness crosses his face, and I almost tell him it’s not his fault, but we both know it is, don’t we? “And she didn’t. But shit, this is a just in case note with some photos. More than most get.”

I look up at him, a little lost, a little swamped by the emotions swirling in me.

Torin slides a finger under my chin and he kisses me softly. Then he frowns. “Do you know if your uncle knows any of this?”

“Originally, he thought I was dead, too. I don’t know how he found out I wasn’t, but he did. He came to Ireland and claimed I was his long-lost daughter.” I shrug. “Over here, Uncle is easier than Dad. I never thought much about it.”

“Can I borrow the letter?”

“Why?”

He stands up, lets go of my hand, and crosses the room to pull back the curtains to stare out at the private section of courtyard.

“Because if what’s in the letter is true, then you might not be the target for everything that’s happened.

To leave here, you’ll have to organize it through Callahan or your precious underground network, but my money’s on Cal.

New name, new city, country, everything you can do to keep away from me. ”

“And if I don’t want to?” The words come without thinking, and I’m not sure why I’m saying them, except… except… I mean, obviously I want to go, but…

“I’m not saying right away,” he snaps, “but if you’re not in danger beyond the Salvatore threat, then your best bet is to get far away from whoever is trying to target my family.”

With that, he stalks off. Then he stops short before leaving the room and walks back. He kisses me so thoroughly my head spins and my clit starts a long, slow throb.

“You’re the one thing I’m not sure I can willingly let go of, Harry, and I don’t know the fuck why,” he mutters against my lips .

My heart rate rockets.

“You should run when it’s safe. I’ll let my brother know, and if you don’t…”

“Then what?” I whisper.

“You’ll never get free, and I’ll poison you with hate.”

He leaves me and I sink down onto the bed, curling up in a ball. Why did that sound like a confession wrenched from a guilt-ridden man? Why did that sound like there is something soft and impossibly fragile inside of him?

Why did it sound like what’s inside of me?

Not hate, but… something different. Much scarier.

I think I’m in love with him.

I don’t even know how it happened. But my heart aches and a lump lodges in my throat… big, hot, and hard. It chokes me slowly, agonizingly.

Maybe it just feels like I’m in love. Maybe I’m really not.

I stand up and look back at the photos on the coffee table. Everyone looks happy. It’s not much, but it’s something, just like Torin said. More than most get.

I need to see him, to talk to him. I just need him.

I’m sure he’s in the basement since the rest of the house is quiet when I venture out of the room. I find a set of stairs on the other side of the kitchen, through the laundry room, and expect the door to be locked.

It isn’t.

I hold my breath as I turn the handle and step inside.

I’m really not sure what I expected… but not this.

Torin’s got a style and it’s a little dark, a little brooding with warmth and coziness. Like Mildred and his suite upstairs.

There are plants in one corner, and they’re beautiful and green. The big computer setup looks sleek and powerful and has enough attachments that most nerds might geek out in its presence.

The two big monitors project a picture of the cat and dog attacking a laughing Declan while the other brothers and Lucie are in the midst of laughter surrounding him. It’s a snapshot out of time and it rocks me on my feet to see it.

It just doesn’t fit him. At least, everything I know about him.

The image of him that I still cling to is of the evil man coming out of the smoke and flames to grab me.

But I was only ten years old. Now I’m twenty-two, and he’s still that evil man, yes. I saw that part of him a long time ago, and I still can now, but he’s impossibly so much more. Like a thousand layers deep more.

So maybe this smiling Torin fits, too.

I notice some folders on the small computer screen. And just before I turn away, the folder names catch my eye.

Harry Ireland.

Harry New York.

Federici Family.

Mam’s Notes.

Rao Family.

My heart thunders hard in my chest and I sink into his chair, trembling.

With a shaking hand, I click on one folder after another.

File after file appears. Too many to open and read or look at since some are photos.

My head jerks around, my pulse hammering hard in my throat.

There’s a drawer full of those thumb drive things. I dig around and pull a few out.

After a few tries, I find an empty one and I copy the files onto it. When it’s done, I slip it out of the computer.

This might have his confession. I push it into the pocket of my dress and close my hand around it. This might exonerate him of everything.

I stand and walk around the room, trying to get my thoughts under control .

I’m slipping and sliding again, down into that feeling that’s getting harder and harder to fight. The one that I think really is love.

I close my eyes. Can I be in love with him if I think there’s even a remote chance he killed my family?

Or maybe… maybe what he’s tried to tell me is that things aren’t so black and white. My mind trips back to everything he’s ever said about that night. Never once did he say I shot them dead .

“Breathe, Harry, breathe.”

I stop in front of what is clearly a gun safe. The reason I know it is one is because it’s open and there’s one gun in it. I pull it out and stare at it.

I could, if I wanted, take this and point it at him and demand that he tell me the whole unvarnished truth.

Maybe he would. Maybe he wouldn’t. And, just maybe, he’d tell me to shoot him.

I gulp and shove it back in the safe. Then I turn and race back up the stairs to his room.

Why are feelings so damned complicated?

They shouldn’t be.

I don’t know what he’s done, but the files on the drive might tell me exactly what I am desperate to know.

Right now, that’s nothing…

Other than the fact that I’m completely and utterly in love with him. Not falling for, either. I am one hundred percent in love with him.

I creep up to the first floor, and Clawzilla and Arnold follow me in the direction of the voices. Lucie’s coming down the stairs as I am climbing them, so we both hear the words at the same time that Dec storms past, not seeing us.

“Yeah, Tor,” Dec says into his phone. “We’ re leaving now to meet you. Seamus is in the car. But listen, we found Anthony. And he’s been taken care of.”