“Like my father did? I’d do more harm to that child than you know.”
“You’re wrong, but you’ll never know if you’re dead. And her? Well, it’s going to have zero net impact on her life if you die. She goes home and picks up where she left off. But me? Selfish me? I get to sit here and wait to hear you got killed.” I turned from the mirror and looked at him. “I know you’re inaccessible, maybe forever. I know I’m all wrong in the head to think I need you, but I’ll never feel right without you. So I’m going with you. If you die, I die. If there’s a miracle and you live, then fine. You take your wife and your family, and you move on. But me? Sit here and have my life preserved in a jar while you do this? So I can what? Be destroyed when the news comes that they killed you?”
“I have nothing if you’re hurt.”
“You have a wife and a family. Do you not get it? You have something to lose.”
He balled his hands into fists and held them up. “You make me fucking crazy.”
I pressed my lips together. I had to consider if I was simply irked that Valentina was probably going to enjoy his company today while I was not. Or was I annoyed at having to put off a trip to Jonathan? We were on our way out of the bathroom before I realized he’d said something I’d missed. He was at the bedroom door when I stopped.
“Antonio.”
He turned, hand on the doorframe, pointer finger bent just so in a way that made me want to put it in my mouth. “Yes?”
“You said you were going to do something quick before you see Valentina.”
“Yes.”
“What was it?”
“Do you need the day’s itinerary every day? Do we need to hire a secretary?”
Oh, no. That wouldn’t do. Not at all. We’d come too far together for defensive nonsense.
“Today. I need your itinerary today,” I said.
“I am not going back to my wife, if that’s what you’re worried about. I may see her for practical matters but—”
“Do not treat me like a toy.”
“Theresa,” he said softly, “let me take care of business.”
“No. Not when I don’t know how far you can go without getting shot at. Not when Otto might come back and tell me you’re dead. I won’t get in the way, but I won’t be left behind.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “I tell you what. Wait for Otto. He’ll take you to your brother. We meet up after.”
“After what?”
He shook his head just a little and strode out to the living area where Zo waited.
“I’m not some bored housewife you have to keep occupied.”
He said something to Zo in Italian. A command, because I’d never seen one of his men do anything other than exactly what they were told.
Zo reached into his back pocket. I must have been moved by some form of trust, because my attention wavered enough for me to wonder what Zo had, what time it was, if we were going to get picked up by the Sicilians before we even got out the door, then I was airborne.
“What—?”
Antonio had slung me over his shoulder and carried me into the open kitchen. I fought him tooth and nail, though I didn’t know why. I only knew he was forcing me onto the counter, trying to get control of my left wrist.
“Calm down!”
I clawed his face.
“Spin, really…” Zo’s voice drifted off when the handcuff was slapped on my wrist.
“Little help here, Lorenzo!” Antonio cried.
I kicked Antonio, and he moved about three inches before wrapping his arm around me. I wiggled and wrenched myself away, but he was strong and vicious, slapping the other cuff around the drawer handle. I was trapped.
Zo held up his hands, muttering, as if he wanted nothing to do with anything about anything.
Antonio stepped back, breathing heavily. “You are a piece of work, woman.”
“Where are you going?” I pointed at the stove. “I’m going to burn this house down if you don’t tell me right now.”