Let Me Love You

“Your mother never had a heart attack, did she?” I took cautious steps closer. “Please talk to me.” I showed my palms, letting him know I wasn’t a threat. And hoped like hell he wasn’t one to me, either. Not with his daughter down the hall, at least.

“Money.” He shook his head. “Why else would I do it? I lost my shirt in the stock market last month, and the next thing I knew, I was being offered a chance to deal with my cash-flow situation.”

Money. That I believed as an excuse. Not love for me.

“I figured if they wanted to beat the guy up, he probably deserved it,” he rushed out. “I need to get out of here before he shows up.” He came my way, and I blocked him.

“Beat him up?” I cried, my hands on his chest. “No, Thomas. They planned to kill him!”

“Move,” he barked out, and he snatched my wrists and flung me away, but he’d done it with too much force, and I slammed into the dresser headfirst.

On my knees, breathing hard, a metallic taste filled my mouth. I wasn’t sure where the blood was coming from, but I pivoted to look over at him staring down at me.

“Fuck. Shit,” Thomas hissed. “That was an accident.” He took a knee, and I reeled my hand back and slapped him.





THIRTY-FOUR


Enzo

“Alice must’ve had someone tamper with the footage,” I told Constantine over the line after hacking the security cameras at my apartment building. “It’s been erased.”

My body was coiled tight, palms sweaty. But that uneasy feeling I’d had since New York had sharpened into a finely pointed knife now that I was back home, and I was getting cut with worry from every angle.

I’d yet to hear from Hudson, but my gut told me I was right. Everything had gone down so fast Thursday that I had missed something.

If someone had provided the three idiotas with a key fob, what if that someone had been Thomas? What if he was purposefully framed by Alice but also complicit in everything?

The key fob was a reach, but it was all I had to go on aside from a hunch until I heard from Hudson, and he was at the hospital attempting to get Jensen to talk. Well, write, since his jaw was wired shut.

“What if I hack the hospital records to see if Thomas’s mother was ever a patient? If he lied about that as an excuse to take Chiara away to get out of town, then—” I let go of my words at the realization I had an incoming call. “It’s Agent Lee. I’ll call you back.”

“I’m going to tell you something,” Agent Lee started once I’d answered, “but first I need you to promise you won’t act on your own.”

“Tell me,” I bit out. “Jensen knows something, am I right?” I had to assume Agent Lee had gone with Hudson to the hospital to question him.

A hard breath fanned out over the line. “Yes.”

“Who?” My heart pounded as I waited for him to give me the name, knowing that bad feeling and worry were justified. There was one more loose end. But was it Thomas?

“I put together a team in Charlotte to pick him up. They’re waiting outside his house, but he’s not home yet. His plane landed an hour ago, though, so he’s in Charlotte. I need you to let the Feds handle this one.”

“Give me his name, damn it.”

“Does the name Thomas—”

I never let him finish. I dropped the phone and rushed next door as fast as possible.

When I tested the knob, the door opened. No, fuck, she had this locked.

“Maria,” I called out, and my stomach fell at the sight of Chiara’s favorite stuffed animal in the living room.

I hadn’t felt this empty, this scared, since the moment I’d known Bianca was gone from the world, hours before my family had called to let me know what had happened.

No, no, no.

I ran down the hall and went still in the doorway of her bedroom at the sight of Thomas pinning her to the dresser, trying to stop her from hitting him.

“Let. Her. Go,” I hissed, taking slow steps with him near her, not wanting her to get hurt.

When Thomas shifted to the side, and I saw Maria’s bloody nose, my world stopped. Everything went silent.

“She hit her head,” he quickly rushed out in a panic. “It was an accident.”

Maria relaxed her arms to her sides as Thomas backed away from her. “Enzo,” she whispered.

“Go to Chiara’s room and lock the door,” I said in a low voice, staring at a man who knew he was seconds away from death.

Maria hesitantly moved around Thomas, but I couldn’t rip my gaze away from him as she quietly passed me.

Once I was alone with him, I cocked my head, studying him. Deciding how I’d kill him.

“Please,” he begged. “It’s not what you think. I didn’t know they were going to kill you. Just rough you up.”

I kept quiet. The dark chaos inside me had been reignited, seeing Maria hurt. The demons I’d worked to lock up only this weekend were about to rage free.

Thomas lifted his hands and backed up, all the way to the window, as if he could save himself. But I was already painting the glass with his blood in my mind.

I prowled his way with slow steps, then snatched his wrist and twisted, dropping him to one knee as he whimpered. Reaching down, I squeezed his jaw so he had to look me in the eyes.

Freeing his wrist, I pulled my fist back, preparing to connect it with his face and every other part of him.

But my hand didn’t move. Didn’t budge.

The soft sounds of Chiara’s crying in the distance had me going still.

Then Isabella’s words punched through my mind, taking their toll on me: “Bianca believed in forgiveness. Mercy.”

I blinked, trying to focus, to finish this man. But thoughts of Maria and Chiara shot through my mind, and my hand shook.

Thomas stared at me, confusion in his eyes, wondering why I hadn’t hit him yet.

Fucking same.

“Maria,” I yelled for her before I changed my mind.

“Enzo?” she whispered from behind me a moment later, more than likely surprised Thomas wasn’t covered in blood.

“Do you want him alive?” I asked, my tone rough, anger still fiercely running its course through me.

“I . . . um.” A pause. “Yes.”

My shoulders fell. “Then I need a phone. The Feds are waiting at his house to arrest him.” I shook my head, shocked at what I was doing. “They need to come here instead.” I lowered my arm and leaned in closer to him. “You don’t deserve mercy,” I told him, “but I’m giving it to you. Consider yourself the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet,” I added just before knocking him unconscious.



“I honestly don’t know how you didn’t kill him.” Ryan had his arms crossed in his kitchen later that night.

I set the knife alongside the cutting board and looked at my two reasons why Thomas wasn’t dead. Maria and Chiara. “I wanted to kill him,” I admitted. “The things I wanted to do to that man are too vile to say aloud,” I added in a low voice, thinking back to the text from Agent Lee after the Feds from the Charlotte field office arrested Thomas, and he’d thanked me for not painting Maria’s bedroom walls with blood.

“I suppose it’d be hard to start a life with them if you killed Chiara’s father.”

I blew out a ragged breath. I was exhausted, in need of a shower and sleep. But more than anything, I wanted to hold Maria and Chiara and protect them and never let go.

I’d also wanted to give Maria a small sense of normalcy after the hell she’d been through, so I’d offered to cook a late meal for everyone.

But today was so far from normal, I doubted a home-cooked meal would change anything.

Maria had to witness the father of her child arrested by the FBI only three hours ago inside her bedroom.

“She’ll be okay,” Ryan said as if reading my thoughts, and I looked at her bouncing Chiara on her leg, sitting by Natalia in the living room.

Maria was tough, sure. But she wasn’t a great actress, and I could easily see her struggling. She’d gone through far too much because of my past, and I had no idea how to reconcile the fact I was the cause of her pain.

I couldn’t let her lie to me and promise me she was okay. What if she had nightmares? Post-traumatic stress?

“I should’ve told her my concerns were about Thomas.” More guilt stacked on my shoulders.

Brittney Sahin's books