Caitlin
I crank up the heat and put some hot water on to boil. There’s a ten-year-old can of instant coffee here that I know is going to make me even more miserable to drink, but I have to try it.
My head aches. My breasts are tender. I feel seasick.
And for once, I don’t appreciate being fully seated in my body experiencing it all. But I can’t tap out or I may not survive. I need to get my wits together and make a plan.
So far all I’ve come up with is walking until I get a phone or WiFi signal. But considering there’s a freaking blizzard outside, that plan could mean a quicker death than staying inside and starving.
It’s funny how being in a life or death situation sharpens everything to a fine point. I have clarity now.
I want the baby.
The instinct to protect the tiny life inside me changed everything. I’ve been far too reckless with my life, right up to my arrival here. But no more. There’s more at stake than one crazy woman. There’s a tiny, defenseless, innocent being relying on me for survival.
And I’d give anything right now to be able to call Paolo. For one thing, I know he’d rescue me in a heartbeat. For another… well, I don’t know what he’ll say about the pregnancy, but he deserves to know. We should have a conversation.
I shouldn’t have been scared of him or what he’d do. Even if he heard about the FBI picking me up, he’d give me a chance to explain what happened. He’s going to believe I wouldn’t turn informant.
The feds sucker-punched me with the photo of him with my dad, but it doesn’t prove anything. They were looking for any way to manipulate me.
The water boils and I pour some into a mug, then add the instant coffee and stir. My stomach turns. Ugh. Maybe I won’t be able to choke this down.
Outside, I hear the sound of a car. Grabbing my coat, I dash outside. Whoever it is, I need to flag them down.
An old pickup pulls down the dirt drive with two passengers. I squint to make out the face of the driver.
No.
It can’t be.
I stumble back and fall flat on my ass onto the porch steps.
Well, at least I know one thing with total certainty: Paolo definitely didn’t kill my dad.
No, he’s living and breathing and parking a pickup truck right in front of the damn cabin.
Paolo
It takes three and a half hours driving through a blizzard to arrive at what Trevor simply calls, “the cabin”. I drove my Rover, so we can at least manage the snow, but even with four-wheel drive, I slip and slide in places.
Every minute that passes, the gnawing dread in my gut grows larger. What if she’s not here? Then we just wasted the entire day driving out here to find her. Also-what if she is? I hate that she ran so far away. Is she really that afraid of me? How did she get here? I know she doesn’t know how to drive.
And I can’t even face my ultimate fear-that I won’t have the words to make her see I’m on her side. That she’ll choose to stay gone.
I want to say I won’t accept that. But it’s that character trait of mine that made her run. I can’t bulldoze myself into someone’s life. Well, I’ve obviously done exactly that, but I have to stop. I can’t make her want me. And bottom line, if I truly care about her, I have to respect her wishes if she really wants to be free of me.
Fanculo.
There are fresh tire tracks in the snow on the unpaved road Trevor directs me to. I hope to fuck they belong to the car that brought her here, although a million questions rage over who drove it and why they’re fresh. She’s been missing since last night, so if she got here yesterday, they’d be snowed over by now.
Fuck, I’m definitely overthinking.
“It’s right here,” Trevor says, pointing to a dilapidated old cabin-barely worthy of the name. A rusty pickup sits in front of the house.
“Who owns the truck?” I demand. If I were a dog, my hackles would be raised and I’d already be growling protectively.
“I don’t know.” Trevor ducks his head to peer through the large window in the front.
I park and turn off the vehicle.
But then I think he recognizes the person because Trevor lunges quickly and grabs for the gun I keep under my seat. Smart kid. He must’ve noticed it earlier. My reflexes kick in before I even process what’s happening. I smash his wrist against the dash. The gun drops into my lap.
“Porca puttana!” I tuck the weapon in my waistband in the back. “You’re lucky I didn’t break your fucking wrist.” We both get out of the SUV. “You’re also lucky I’m in love your sister or I would fuck you up for that. Who’s in there?”
He looks at me sharply, like he’s surprised I figured out that he knows.
He swallows.
“Tell me.”
“It looks like… someone who’s supposed to be dead.”
Minchia.
Just what we need right now-a fucking family reunion. I have to say, though, I’m not surprised. I had a feeling the little fucker was still alive.
I palm the gun and try the front door. It’s open, which surprises me. Lake West and a skanky woman are on their feet, jackets still on like they just arrived. Caitlin stands opposite them. When I see Caitlin’s pale face and dead eyes, I forget everything but getting my arms around her.
Lake recognized me and his eyes fly wide with terror. Because yeah. He thinks I want him dead. He draws a weapon at the same time I do.
Fuck.
I should lower my weapon. This is Caitlin’s father. I don’t trust him not to shoot me though. Not until I explain I’m not after him, I’m here for Caitlin.
“Hold up, both of you,” Trevor commands.
“Who the fuck are you?” Lake snaps.
“Of course you wouldn’t recognize your own son,” Trevor mutters.
I need to take fucking charge of this situation. “Listen, West. I didn’t come here to kill you,” I say evenly. “I came for Caitlin. And the baby of mine she’s carrying.” I drop that bomb to convey to West the nature of our relationship, in case he doesn’t know.
Surprise definitely registers on Lake’s face. I can’t focus on Caitlin, but I sense her surprise too.
“You know?” she asks.
“Yeah, I know. Is that why you left, doll?” I shift my focus to her face for a fraction of a second.
A mistake.
Lake lunges for her and puts her in a headlock, holding the gun to her head.
I want to howl in rage. How stupid was I to let him know what matters to me? To assume he would care about his daughter and unborn grandchild as much as I do? Or be smart enough to reason that I’m not a threat.
I hold my gun steady. I could shoot him. I have a clear shot and I’m confident in my aim. But I can’t risk Caitlin’s life. Plus, he’s still her dad, even if he’s the lowest of the low.
I release my finger from the trigger and turn the gun to the side, moving slowly. “Okay, West. I’m putting the gun down.” I set it on the coffee table. “Now put yours down. You’re scaring your daughter.” I purposely use those words, trying to appeal to his fatherly instincts, although he clearly has none.
He doesn’t lower the gun, but he does shift to point it at me. I see it all in slow motion.
His finger squeezes the trigger. Caitlin grabs his wrist. I lunge to the side.
The bullet goes through the window.
In a second, I’m on him, knocking the gun out of his hand and slamming my fist into his face. He goes down and I follow, pounding with both my fists. This man held a gun to my girl’s head. He left her to that monster of a foster father at age fourteen.
He’s gonna pay.
Caitlin
I’m so far out of my body, I’m on Mars. I see the scene unfolding from far, far away. Trevor still standing there with a gun in his shaking hand.
My dad on his back getting the shit beat out of him by Paolo.
His bitch of a girlfriend shrinking in the corner with terror in her eyes.
And I feel nothing.
A better person would stop Paolo. Or at least a living one. But I’m not better and I’m definitely not present.
And if I did feel anything, I’m pretty sure it would be satisfaction that my dad is getting his due.
All this time, he’s been alive.
What are you doing here, Caitie? was all he had to say to me when he got out of his pickup. Like I don’t belong here. Like he resented me being here. No explanation or apology for ditching out on his two kids when they were the ripe old age of eight and fourteen. For leaving us to become wards of the state. To rot in foster care while he was off living large.
What are you doing here? I shot back and he had the audacity to say, this place belongs to me.
The thud of bone cracking bone trickles into my awareness. Blood splatters on the floor. It’s amazing how many punches a guy can take and still be conscious. Still be breathing.
I wonder if Paolo will kill him.
And it’s only the memory of not wanting Paolo to kill for me when he offered to take care of my foster father that makes me reach out and touch his arm.
I expect him to shake me off. Or to not even notice me because he’s in warrior zone, but the moment I touch him, he straightens, turns and pulls me into his arms.
I want to feel it. I can tell it would be nice to be held by Paolo right now. That I’ve been in need of his strength and protection. He rubs my back. I wish I could feel it.
But I’m way too out of my body to feel the warmth of his touch.
“What do you want me to do with him,” I hear him ask from far away.
I make my lips move. “Let’s go.”
“No, he goes.” Paolo turns and kicks my dad in the ribs. “This cabin is yours. He’s dead. He has no rights to it.” He kicks him again, then reaches down and hauls him up with his fists in his clothing.
“You’d better stay dead this time, West. Because the bratva will be looking for you for that truck full of electronics you stole. And if I ever see you again?” He says something menacing in Italian. “I’ll fucking skin you alive, you greedy little weasel. You abandoned your kids for a couple hundred grand?” He cocks his fist back and delivers another vicious blow, then shoves him in the direction of his girlfriend.
“Get him out of here,” he tells the girlfriend. “And don’t fucking come back.”
Out-of-body Caitlin watches them stumble out. I’m so fucking numb. So removed. Vaguely, it occurs to me that I need to get back. And Paolo’s here.
He knows how to do it.
He turns to me, his face etched with concern. I pick up his meaty hand and put it on my throat, pressing in to squeeze.
Choke me. My silent plea.
He understands. He cups the back of my head and leans his lips down to my temple. “I would, doll, but I think your brother will shoot me.”
Observer Caitlin notes Trevor still gripping Paolo’s pistol. “Put the gun down,” I hear myself say.
I don’t feel the relief I know I should when he starts and sets it down on the coffee table like it’s a snake.
There’s something else. Something I need. Oh yeah.
“I’m hungry,” I force the words across my lips.
Paolo sweeps the kitchen with his gaze, then shakes his head. “Let’s get you out of here.” He scoops me into his arms. “We passed a lodge not too far from here. We can get a meal and stay there until the storm passes.”
I see Trevor’s pale face as Paolo turns with me. How did he get here? Oh yeah, he showed up with Paolo.
How did Paolo get here?
“Do I need to shut the water off, Caitie?” Trevor asks.
The water… I can’t figure out what that means.
“I’ll get it. Be out in a minute,” he tells Paolo.
Paolo carries me to a shiny Range Rover and carefully sits me in the passenger seat. He pulls the seatbelt across my waist and buckles it.
I need to tell him things. Lots of things.
I make my tongue work. “They showed me pictures. The FBI. Pictures of you and him. They told me you killed him.”
Pain flickers on Paolo’s face.
“I didn’t believe them.” There. That’s what I wanted to tell him.
He catches my gaze and holds it. “I will never lie to you, Cait.”
And the strangest thing happens.
I drop back into my body for a moment. Warmth spreads across my chest. I find my way back to the present through love, not pain.
As I start to recede again, I reach for more. “I love you,” I blurt.
It’s not my declaration, but what I see on Paolo’s face that brings me back this time. Tears pop into his eyes-I swear to God. He blinks rapidly and lunges in for me. Captures my head in both his hands and holds me captive for a searing kiss.
A claiming kiss. His lips move brutally across mine, his tongue lashes my mouth. He pours all his powerful presence, his life force, his protection into me.
The warmth spreads more. Into my belly. Down my arms. Pooling in my pelvis.
When he pulls away, I’m back. I’m sitting on the car seat, freezing my ass off while my huge, handsome lover stands over me.
“They want me to turn informant.” I have to get the worst of it out. Make sure he knows and understands I would never betray him. “They say I have forty-eight hours to decide or they’ll bring charges against me.”
He shakes his head. “They’re bluffing, doll. But if they do, we’ll handle it. We have Lucy in our court and she’s the very best defense attorney there is. I’m not going to let you go to jail again. Not ever. Lo prometo.”
I don’t understand Italian, but he’d translated the phrase for me before. It was his promise, his solemn vow.
He strokes his thumb down my cheek. “Is that why you ran?” His expression is so tender-no anger or hardness at all.
I’m surprised by a tear falling. No pain. No punishment. I’m feeling feelings just like that.