“Needed you more.”
I had to see what was beneath your surfaces, too.
My eyelids start fluttering. I can feel myself drifting down into the darkness as he settles beside me, his head on my pillow, his fingers still tangled up with mine.
Eventually, I fall asleep to the perfectly imperfect sound of our silence.
“Ada, wake up.”
My eyes fly open. My vision clears. He’s standing by the bed fully dressed. His expression unreadable.
I sit up in a rush, clutching the sheet to my chest, my heart thumping painfully as I’m wrenched from sleep. “What’s happened?”
“Guido’s in the car outside. O’Sullivan’s gone AWOL. We’re going to check it out.”
“I’m coming with you.” I go to fling the sheet away, but he catches my wrist.
“No.”
We hold each other’s gazes. “He’s my half-brother, Frankie…”
“And you’re my whole fucking world now, Ada.” Brushing my lips with his thumb, he makes to stand, and I know this is one disagreement I’m never going to win.
“When will you be back?”
“No more than an hour.”
But I know he’s lying.
He knows I know as well.
A lump forms in my throat, an ugly beast of a thing that won’t let me say the words I want to say.
“Don’t forget to slide the deadbolt across when I’m gone.”
Please don’t be gone, Frankie. Never be gone.
The lump moves to my chest, making it harder and harder to breathe. I can’t even lift my fingers to take one last imaginary picture of him.
“In a couple of hours, we’ll be on a jet to Sicily, Ada…”
With that, his chameleon presence is reduced to fading footsteps and the loud slam of the front door.
Jumping out of bed, I rush to the window. There’s a silver SUV parked up outside with its hazard lights on. As Frankie approaches, the driver’s door opens and a giant of a man in a grey suit emerges. The image tugs unpleasantly at my memory, but it’s only when the man turns back to the car, giving me a glimpse of his profile, that my knees start to buckle.
No.
I’m back in O’Sullivan’s dining room again, sitting opposite my real father, hearing accents: British, Russian, Italian.
This can’t be happening.
I’m seeing the same giant in his grey suit dragging Danny out of the room on O’Sullivan’s order.
I need to reach Frankie.
I stumble for the stairs. I’m clawing at the front door handle, but it won’t open quickly enough.
When it finally does, that same bitter winter chill comes blasting into my face, stripping my fears to the bone. Changing my composure from shocked disbelief to wild-eyed panic.
Please let him still be there…
Please let him still be there…
But when I reach the street, the SUV and Frankie are gone.
CHAPTER 12
FRANKIE
“Do you want the good news first, or the bad?”
“Good.” I reach into my pocket for the handgun I stole from Seamus earlier. “I need all the high fives I can get.”
“Zaccaria’s impressed with what you did.” Guido drums his fingers lightly on the steering wheel. “Told me so himself.”
“Does that mean I’m getting my army of soldati?” I say, not missing a beat as I check the clip.
“Let’s get this over with, and then we’ll talk.”
“And the bad?”
“You’ve pissed off most of London and every bridge is burning.”
“Want me to sing a fucking nursery song about it?”
He chuckles as he turns us into the same leafy road in West London we came to seven years ago. He even parks in the same spot, underneath a line of Sycamore trees, opposite three white townhouses.
But I’m only interested in one.
“And you’re sure your guy on the inside’s not compromised?”
“Hundred percent. He’s been my man for years. Just because we haven’t had a cosca in London, doesn’t mean we walked away completely.” He gestures at the gun. “Heard you made a mess of O’Sullivan’s bodyguard.”
“Crime of passion.” I scan the street again. The front porch is empty. Where the hell are O’Sullivan’s men? “There’s nothing neat about those.”
“Tell me something, kid: who are you trying to piss off the most by running off with her, Ireland or Russia?”
“Neither,” I say sharply, leaving it at that.
“Remember, you had your shot at a happy ending,” he warns, reaching into his inside jacket pocket for his phone. “We could’ve been on our way to the airport now. Instead, you’re going back in for Razor’s boy. Need I remind you that his father—”
“It’s complicated. Besides, that's what epilogues are for. To give you an extra buzz once the ride is over.”
“You talking in riddles?”
“No, I’m talking longer term. If Danny decides to take on his father’s business, he’ll be in my debt.”
He chuckles again. “You’re finally thinking like a made man, Francesco. You’re Lastra’s son, at last.”
“I was always Lastra’s son. Death doesn’t weaken blood ties. Message your guy on the inside again.”
It’s too quiet.
This is more than the calm before the storm. It’s the dead zone before the drop.
I think of Ada back at the safehouse, wrapped up in a white bedsheet like a gift, and my eyes drift to her old bedroom window.
She doesn’t dance alone anymore. She dances with me.
There’s a beep from Guido’s phone with the returning message.
“O’Sullivan’s still tearing your place apart. We have thirty minutes. Maybe more.”
“How many left inside?”
“Five, including mine.”
“Let’s go.”
There’s a soft click as we approach the front door, and it notches open a crack.
“Facci entrare, Ronan,” Guido murmurs, and it opens wider to reveal a stocky man with a scowl.
“They’re all in the back having a smoke,” he says to the Italian, not even glancing at me. “Basement is this way.”
“Key?”
“We don’t need it. Guy’s half dead. He ain’t running anywhere.”
The huge lobby is striped with shadow. Up ahead, there’s a black door carved into a white wall.
“Ladies first.” Ronan swings it open to reveal a wooden staircase heading down.
“Be my guest,” I say, holding his gaze until he shakes his head in defeat.
“This is going to cost you an extra thousand, Guido,” he mutters, pushing past me.
The moment my foot hits the first step, I hear Ada’s voice in my head. She’s calling out to me. She’s scared… I stop dead, earning myself a curse from Guido who’s behind me.
“This isn’t the time to get cold feet, kid.”
“Not cold,” I say, as the dank, earthy smell rises up from below, curling invisible ropes around my ankles. “Just cautious.”