23

Portia
The first thing I see when I get upstairs is the veil. It’s folded and set on the foot of the single bed I slept on last night.
Picking it up, I smell detergent and see how much whiter the lace looks. I didn’t have a chance to wash it before the wedding day. The stains are gone too. No blood. Like it never ever happened.
I’m glad.
Keeping it on my lap, I sit on the edge of the bed and look around. This is Elizabeth Scarfoni’s room. Callahan’s little sister. She was five when she was killed. She’d have been fifteen now. Same age as Nathan. And her little friend, what was her name? Mara. She disappeared. Seems strange if they took someone that they’d take Mara and not the daughter of their enemy.
And after all this time, I wonder if Callahan is still searching for her. It makes me a little sad to think of it.
But then the door opens, and I leap to my feet. No knock, but I’m not surprised.
Callahan stands in the doorway taking up the whole of it. He looks around the room and I wonder if he’s been inside here or if he avoids it. If it brings too many memories because it’s still decorated for a five-year-old little girl who loved both princesses and toy cars.
He shifts his gaze to mine before it falls to the veil I’m hugging.
“Lenore cleaned it,” he says, and I get the feeling again that he’s not used to being around people.
Having to talk to people. It’s not that he’s awkward. You’d have to give a fuck to be awkward. He’s just abrupt.
“She did a good job. It’s like new.”
He nods. Callahan is a man of very few words.
“Come out of here. I can’t talk to you in here. I need to get some things anyway.”
I do as he says, wondering why he put me in there at all. I walk across the hall to his bedroom, bringing the veil with me because I don’t know what to do with it otherwise.
“What was my uncle doing here?”
“Nothing,” Callahan says, disappearing into the closet.
“Not nothing. Is he your partner now? Your connection to the Cartel? Is his son-in-law running the show? Because Felix Perez is as mucha liar and an opportunist as Heathcliff.” I give a bitter laugh. “Fefe Perez running the show.”
“Fefe?”
“I couldn’t say Felix when I was little and the nickname stuck. Nathan calls him that too. Also, I don’t like him, and it pisses him off so…” I shrug a shoulder.
He walks out of the closet carrying a garment bag. Before I can ask what it is, he asks me if I’m ready to go.
“Shopping?”
He nods.
“Why?”
“Do you want to wear that dress day in day out?”
“No, but – ”
“Besides, we need to get you a gown.”
“A gown? Why?”
“We’re going to a gala tonight.” He opens the bedroom door.
“A what?”
“It’s a children’s charity. I donated some money, and the gala should hopefully raise more.”
“You donated to a children’s charity?”
“Don’t look so shocked. Most of it lined the pocket of a politician we need on our side.”
“Ah, the angle.”
“Everyone has an angle. Even you, Little Kitten. Let’s go.”
I walk out. “I don’t have an angle.”
“No?” He falls into step beside me on the stairs.
“No.”
“What about getting your cousin out of his cell? Isn’t that your angle?”
“That’s not an angle. An angle is some ulterior motive.”
“And you’re being nice to me because?”
I’m about to open my mouth to argue when one of his men meets us at the front door. “Chopper or boat, sir?” he asks.
“Boat. You’ll follow ours. Bring Alec.”
“Sir, we have – ”
“Bring Alec.”
“Yes, sir.”
Callahan takes his coat off the hook and realizes then I don’t have one. He puts his over my shoulders.
“I’m fine,” I say, trying to shrug it off. It smells like him. And it feels nice around my shoulders. Safe.
“It’ll be cold on the water.” He pushes it back on and we walk outside.
“Don’t you need one?”
“We’ll pick one up for you when we get to the shop then I can have mine back. And before you do anything stupid with it, it’s one of my favorite coats.”
“Got it. So, like I shouldn’t throw it overboard?” I ask as we walk out to where two speedboats are docked.
“You do and I’ll throw you in to get it.”
“Ha-ha.”
“Water’s cold this time of year.” I roll my eyes.
He holds out his hand to help me on board.
In the distance I see a sailboat, too. It’s bigger than these. I look back at the house, at the island. “So, mafia business is going well? What makes the most profit? Trafficking drugs or people?”
“Get your ass on the boat, Portia.”
I take his hand only because I have to as the water’s a little choppy. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Can you swim?”
“Are you serious? If this thing – ”
“Relax. I’m fucking with you.” He steps on board after pulling the ropes free that have been holding the boat to the dock. “And just so you know, I don’t deal in flesh trade. My family never did.”
“Oh.” I study him. “Really? What is that, like a code or something? Only drugs which by the way also hurt people.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about and I advise you to shut the fuck up.”
“I’m curious. Explain it to me.”
He walks toward me, and I back up a step. “Ever hear the expression better to keep your mouth shut and let them think you’re an idiot, than open it and confirm their suspicions?”
“Fuck off.” I turn to walk away.
He catches me by my arm and twists so I turn back to him. “Get off.”
“Be careful, Little Kitten.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Then put those baby claws away.”
“Fuck you.”
“Careful or I’m going to give you something you desperately need.”
I gasp. “I don’t need a fuck, especially from someone like you, so I’ll pass.”
“You’ll wish that’s what I had in mind.”
“What the hell does that even mean?”
He leans in close. “It means push me again. Just one more time and I’ll show you.”
I glare and my mouth, oddly and completely out of character, does as my mind instructs and shuts up. He gives me one of his signature grunts, releases me, and digs keys out of his pocket.
“So, they’ll follow us?” I ask pointing to the three men who look like secret service in the next boat.
Callahan nods and starts the engine. “You’ll want to sit down.”
“I’m fine,” I start, and I know he jerks the boat on purpose because he grins like a wildcat when I instantly land on my butt on the floor.
“Jerk,” I mutter as I maneuver to sit on one of the cushioned seats.
He gives me a smirk. “You should listen to your elders.”
“What are you? Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“You’re not an elder, then.”
“I’m older than you. That makes me your elder.”
I shake my head, reminding myself to stay focused. I want some answers about my uncle, and I want to know his idea about Nathan.
“Why don’t they just come with us?” I point to the boat that’s following close by.
“I don’t want to be crowded.”
“It’s not environmentally friendly of you.”
He looks at me his eyebrows raised like he’s asking really?
“What was your idea about Nathan?” I ask over the sound of the engine and the slapping of the boat against the waves. “And can you slow down a little? We’re going to flip.”
“We won’t flip. Relax.”
I grip the side of the boat, knuckles white. “I don’t like this.”
He looks over at me, sighs and slows.
“Thank you.”
“You owe me one, Kitten,” he says and returns his attention to steering the boat.
I watch him. Look at his broad, powerful shoulders as I slip my arms into his jacket. It’s cool on the water, almost cold, but he looks relaxed. My gaze slips lower to his ass and I remember seeing him naked. How I felt him hard against me last night.
I remember how he tasted like caramel and whiskey when he kissed me, and I remember how he looked with his eyes closed. Like our kiss was sustenance.
Air.