Page 33 of The Woman at the Funeral (Costa Family #11)

Blair

I don’t remember much about the day following my abduction. I slipped in and out of a sleep that clawed at me, pulling me back down each time I tried to surface.

In those brief moments of consciousness, panic swelled. Part of it, I was sure, was just the aftermath of the drugs, but also the fear of how exhausted I felt, how hard it was for me to stay awake.

Each time, though, Nico was right there with me, pulling me close, murmuring reassurances, stroking my hair.

At some point, he’d forced me to sip a sports drink and eat some cheese before I passed back out.

It was the following morning, with the sun already bright and golden in the sky.

I was alone in the bed.

No Nico.

No Goya.

But on the good side, I was fully awake, and the headache seemed to have finally vanished.

I climbed out of bed carefully, waiting for any lingering dizziness. But it never came.

“Thank God,” I said as I made my way to the bathroom to shower and brush the tangles out of my hair.

When I went back to the room to steal another of Nico’s shirts, I found my own clothing in his closet.

Knowing I’d heard a revolving door of voices in the apartment between moments of consciousness, I chose slacks and a simple blouse. But I didn’t bother with earrings or tying back my hair.

I walked out into the main area of the house and gasped to find a stranger standing there.

“Sorry, babe,” the man said, holding up his hands. “I’m Miko,” he told me. But the name meant nothing. “I work with Nico. He just took the dog out. He’ll be right back.”

I seemed frozen on the spot, though, still unsure.

“You scaring the poor woman?” Leo asked, coming in from the balcony. “Miko’s good people,” he told me. “You feeling better?”

“So much better,” I admitted.

“Can I get you some coffee?”

“God, yes.”

“And how about something to eat?”

“I can—”

“Sit on the couch and relax while I get you something to eat? Yeah, you can do that,” he said, giving me that one-dimple smile.

Miko moved away, trying to give me some privacy as I sat on the couch and reached for the remote just to have something to do.

It wasn’t long before I had a coffee in my hand. And just a few more minutes for an omelet to appear before me, loaded up with mushrooms, kale, and gooey mozzarella.

“Do all of you know how to cook?” I asked.

“Most of us, yeah. Some better than others. Dunno what you’d get if you asked Zeno to make something for you. Whatever it was, I’d bet it would be overcooked because he forgot he was cooking.”

“What about Gav?”

“He got the same training we did, but I don’t know if I’ve ever heard him say he’s cooking anything. He’s a fan of takeout.”

“But not when they don’t respect his ‘leave at the door’ note,” I said, getting a big smile out of Leo.

“Exactly.”

“I find his grumpiness charming.”

Just then, the door opened.

And I needed to quickly lift my plate out of the way as Goya came bounding over to me.

“Hey, buddy. How was your walk?” I asked, rubbing his head with my free hand. “Did you see any squirrels?”

“Just a bunch of pigeons,” Nico said, walking over to me. “How are you feeling?”

“So much better. Leo cooked for me,” I said, settling my plate back down.

“Thanks,” Nico said to his brother, getting a shrug in return.

“We’re gonna let you guys talk,” Leo said, leading Miko out the door so we could be alone.

“That sounds serious,” I said, steeling my stomach for bad news. “Did something happen?”

“Here, bud,” Nico said, grabbing a chew for Goya and tossing it over on his bed so he could sit down next to me. “So, yes and no. We did finally find Ronny, Tom, and the aunts.”

“Oh,” I said, thinking of them with ankle weights in the Hudson.

“When shit went south, they boarded a plane to Argentina.”

“Argentina?”

“Apparently, that’s where Tom’s family was from.

Or so Zeno says. Jury’s out whether he actually has family there or if it was just the first place they thought of when the shit hit the fan.

We don’t know if they’re running from us, or the guys Matt welshed a deal with, or both, but they were gone late last night. ”

“What happens now?”

“Well, we’re certainly not going down to Argentina to get them,” Nico said, shrugging.

“Zeno somehow managed to put them on a no-fly list. So if they want to come back to the States, they’re going to have to figure out how to do it by sea.

Or trek all the way through South America and Mexico and cross the border.

So we’re not going to hear anything from them for a long time. If ever.”

“What about Danny?” I asked, noticing his name had been absent from the flight information.

“Danny is not a problem any longer.”

I was pretty sure that was mafia-speak for Danny being dead.

I knew I was supposed to be shocked, upset, or horrified by that, knowing someone had to have killed him.

Possibly even one of Nico’s brothers. That said, I’d seen the fury on his face when he’d struck me.

I’d heard the excitement at the idea of getting to “play with” me later.

And I’d seen him leering at me so many times over the years when I was married to his brother that I believed he was absolutely capable of doing horrific things to me.

I couldn’t muster up even a small bit of grief for him.

Maybe I should have felt sympathy for Ronny and Tom, who’d now lost both sons. That said, they would both still be alive if Ronny hadn’t pushed for them all to try to take down the Costa Family empire. Her own greed was to blame for their deaths. That was just her burden to carry around.

“What about the guys who killed Matthew?”

“We have a lead on that. The Family will be following up.”

“Are we going to need to continue to be on lockdown?”

“No. We’ve concluded that the man who chased you and who broke into your house twice was Danny. We have no reason to believe that anyone is out to target you.” He paused as I took a bite, watching me with faraway eyes. “Except,” he started again, struggling to find his words.

“Except?”

“In an abstract way, you may always be a target if you decide to keep being with me. That’s the risk when connected to a man like me, a family like mine.”

“How many of the wives have been killed?” I asked.

“None.”

“Ever?”

“Not as long as Lorenzo has been in power.”

“Then it seems like I wouldn’t really be in that much danger.”

“I’m just worried you haven’t given it time to really sink in, is all.”

“I’ve had plenty of time to think about it.

” Alright. That wasn’t exactly true. There hadn’t been much time when I’d been awake and coherent enough to obsess about it.

But I’d done enough thinking. Just this once, I wanted to go off of my feelings.

And no one had ever made me feel as good as Nico did.

Besides, everyone’s life was dangerous.

Just leaving your house or even taking that giant morning vitamin with no one around could spell the end.

Why not spend whatever time I had with someone who made me feel as safe and happy as Nico did?

“And?” Nico asked, blue eyes full of storm clouds, seemingly sure I was going to say I was done.

“And I think we’re both going to need to sell our condos and pick one bigger place. Lots of bedrooms. For lots of little beds.”

His eyes went gooey at that.

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been sure of anything else in my life. But I’m sure about you. About us.”

His lips found mine and it wasn’t long before we were wild with need, with happiness, with hope for the future.

And as Nico carried me down the hall toward the bedroom, I knew that finally—and without the slightest bit of uncertainty—I was in love and fully, completely, unconditionally loved in return.