When She Loves (The Fallen, #4)(79)

“Drank too much,” she says in a harsh whisper. “And my voice is completely gone.”

I burst into giggles. She rolls her eyes and gives me the middle finger. “Don’t laugh at my misery. It’s all your fault, you know. I can’t even remember how many shots you poured down my throat, you little she-devil.”

“I don’t remember you complaining.”

She groans. “You’re a bad influence.”

We get to work. The delivery is a big one—hundreds of rolls of fabric that need to be catalogued and put in the right place. Our hangovers make it even more difficult, but we power through, fueled by coffee.

Around one, we take a quick break for lunch. Sandro walks us to the deli, and he’s looking rough too.

“Can you not park in my customer parking?” Loretta asks. “You’re scaring people off sitting there looking all glum.”

“I don’t look glum,” he protests. “I’m just reading the news.”

“Well, read it on the other side of the street, will you?”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “I’ll move the car when we get back.”

We have our lunch and get back to work. Later in the afternoon, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I check the screen. It’s a text message from Vale.

Something’s wrong with Gemma. Ras is driving her to the hospital right now. I’m almost at the corner of Clinton and Rivington—come quick.





My stomach drops. What? Was there an accident? Is it the baby?

I grab my purse and dart out of the shop. Loretta calls after me, but I ignore her. My feet hit the pavement, and I’m off running.

“Cleo!” Sandro shouts from somewhere behind me and a car door slams.

I ignore him too. My sneakers slap against the street as I sprint to the location Vale mentioned in her message. The thought of Gemma being hurt or of her losing her baby nearly makes me stumble. This can’t be happening. Not when Gem is finally doing so well.

My lungs burn from exertion. I don’t think I’ve ever run this fast. I cut across the street, and cars grind to a stop and honk all around me. I sprint to the corner Vale said she’d be at. There’s a black limo waiting there. The door of the car opens, and I throw myself inside. It shuts right behind me.

“What happened?” I pant. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the car.

When they do, it isn’t Vale staring back at me.

It’s Papà.

He smirks. “Hello, daughter.”

Something pricks against the side of my neck, and then everything goes black.











CHAPTER 35











RAFAELE


I’m about to drive home after sorting out a situation with one of the concrete businesses that pays us protection money, when my phone buzzes. An unknown number shows up on the caller ID.

I pick up. “Hello?”

“How are you, Rafaele?”

My blood ices over. Garzolo. He’s finally decided to make contact, and he sounds too fucking cheerful for a man in hiding. A bad feeling swirls inside my gut.

“Where the fuck are you?”

He chuckles. “You sound stressed. Must be hard running two families at the same time. Ah. Well, you won’t be busy with that for too long now.”

“What do you want?” I growl.

“What do I want? The question, actually, is what do you want? Your wife dead or alive?”

My pulse skitters. He’s fucking with me, but my hands still strangle the wheel. “Reconsider what you just said.”

“I’m afraid that’s just what it is, my boy. If you want Cleo back, you’ll do as I say.”

He’s bluffing. He has to be. Cleo is at work, and Sandro knows better than to leave his post. There’s no way Garzolo has her.

“You’re lying.” I put him on speakerphone and pull up the locator app I use to track Cleo’s phone.

“Go ahead. Check for yourself,” Garzolo drawls, guessing at what I’m doing.

Her dot isn’t showing up. I tap on her name. Tap. Tap. Tap. Nothing changes.

She’s gone.

A glaze of cold sweat breaks out over my skin. “If you touch a hair on her head, I’ll kill you.”

“Come to this address within the next twenty minutes. 9001 Hopkins Road. I want this over with quickly.”

“Let me talk to Cleo.”

“She’s somewhere else. Somewhere you’ll never find her. Bring one fucking soldier with you, and I’ll give the order to kill her. You come alone. You understand?”

I can barely hear him over the blood rushing inside my ears. I brake sharply, causing cars to honk behind me, and do a U-turn.

“Careful,” he says with a chuckle. “Don’t get yourself killed on the way here.”

I’m going to tear his throat out with my bare hands.

“She’s your daughter.”

“She’s a nuisance. She’s always been a fucking nuisance.”

“Garzolo—”

He hangs up. My hands are shaking. He has her. He will kill her if I don’t go to where he is. How the fuck did this happen?