The Enemy in My Bed by L.K. Shaw

Chapter 24

Pierce

“How’s Sal doing, anyway?”I ask Jacob on the drive to his father’s house.

He shakes his head and takes another sip of whiskey. “Not well. Ever since the night Brenna was taken, he’s gotten worse. I’m not sure he’ll even make the three months the doctor gave him.”

Sal had hidden his cancer from the entire syndicate since his diagnosis, but with all the families having sworn their loyalty to Jacob, it’s come out.

“I’m sure everything that happened that night was a blow to him,” I say.

“Marta has been doing her best to keep him comfortable. But I think it’s only a matter of time. Dr. Marino has been there twice in the last week. I don’t think Sal’s left his bed in days.”

“Are you sure this is something he needs to be bothered with? There’s nothing he can do if we end up going up against the Polish.”

“I have no intention of mentioning the current situation to him. You and I both know what he’ll say. We’re heading there because I want to see if he has any information on this Maksim. I’m not even sure my father knew Mikhail had a son,” Jacob says. “I also told Marta I’d stop by to check on him.”

My uncle and cousin have never had the closest relationship, but with Sal dying, things have changed. Despite the distance between them, there has still always been, if not affection, than respect. I envy that.

“My mother came to the house the other day.” Some compulsion makes me say it.

“How is Sofia?” Jacob asks cautiously. He knows of my contentious relationship with her, but not the reason behind it. It’s the one secret I’ve never shared with him.

“The same as she’s always been. Hateful. Upset Francesca by talking shit about Giovanni.” I take a healthy swallow of bourbon. “I’ve never understood how she could be Aunt Rosalie’s sister. They were complete opposites.”

Jacob’s mother had been the kindest, most loving person. In our world, that’s rare. She was a friend to everyone in the syndicate. The entire organization mourned her death.

“My mother was special.”

I toss back the rest of my drink. “Mine used to beat me.”

Without looking at Jacob, I reach across, grab the snifter, and pour myself another. I stare out the window for several minutes, sipping it, before finally meeting his gaze. He’s staring at me as though he didn’t understand what I said. “Jesus, Pierce. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

My laugh is bitter. “It wouldn’t have made any difference. We were kids. What were you going to do? Tell Sal? My father before he died? Fuck, that would have only proven to her that I was worthless. Weak. All the things she accused me of being. Still does. Because I wasn’t like you.”

“Like me?”

“Actually, because I wasn’t you. Did you know she was in love with Sal?” I don’t wait for an answer. “Of course, he ended up marrying Aunt Rosalie. Then, their parents arranged for her to marry my father. She turned bitter, because her sister had everything she wanted. The perfect husband. The perfect heir. She hated my father. In turn, she hated her children. But most especially me, because I looked exactly like Costantino De Luca. I was nothing more than a reminder of what she’d lost.”

“Christ, I had no idea.”

“Like I said, it was a long time ago.”

Fuck. What’s wrong with me? I don’t share shit like this. I don’t do emotions. Feelings. Ever since I turned that fucking light on and saw Mila for the first time, I haven’t been the same. Thank god, Aurelio finally comes to a stop in front of Sal’s. I’m done talking.

We take the stairs two at a time. Like always, the door opens before we have to knock. Marta, who normally is always well put together and wears a respectful smile, looks tired and rundown. Her perfectly maintained haircut appears disheveled, and there are dark circles under her eyes. Even the wrinkle-free pantsuit she favors is wilted.

“Good morning, Emilio. Pierce. Please, come in.” There’s fatigue in her voice.

I follow in behind my cousin, and she closes the door behind us.

“How’s he doing today?” he asks.

Marta shakes her head. “Not well. He had a rough night. The pain medicine doesn’t seem to be working.”

She’s been a surprisingly good nursemaid to Sal over the last few months, considering that before this, she’d been the housewife widow of one of our captains. I’m sure it’s been difficult for her.

“Is he awake? Or is this not a good time?” Jacob asks.

“He’s awake, but I’m not sure for how much longer. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you, though.” Marta’s smile is faint, but sincere.

I gesture toward the stairs. “Go. I’ll wait down here whenever you’re finished.”

His nod is nearly imperceptible, but he turns and makes his way up to his father’s room. I wait until he disappears from view before I face Marta. “How much longer do you think he has?”

She shrugs. “You know how stubborn Mr. Ricci is. But I also know the betrayal hit him hard. He’ll be lucky if he makes it another month.”

I glance up the stairs. Cancer is a bitch. It took Aunt Rosalie, and its next victim will be Sal. My phone rings in my pocket. “Excuse me,” I say to Marta.

She nods and disappears into the study off the entryway.

“De Luca.”

“Oh my god, Pierce, she’s gone.”

My whole body goes rigid, and my heart stops before it begins racing. “What do you mean, she’s gone?” I snap at Francesca.

“I showed up at Brenna’s. She introduced us, and I admit hearing the Russian accent threw me. She freaked and took off. Brenna tried stopping her.” There were tears in my sister’s voice.

“Son of a bitch. I’ll be there shortly.” I disconnect the call and pocket my phone.

As though anticipating I needed her, Marta steps back out. “Is everything all right?”

“I have to go. Tell Jacob I’ll send another car for him.” I’m out the door and bounding down the steps before she can respond.

I poundon the door of the townhouse, my foot tapping an impatient beat. Hurry up, Brenna. There’s a metallic click of the lock disengaging and it swings open. Her eyes are red and her face splotchy. Behind her, Francesca stands in the middle of the living room wringing her hands. I barrel past Brenna and round on her.

“Tell me everything that happened? How long has she been gone? Why didn’t you have the security guard stop her?” I rattle off each question, my renowned patient hanging on by a thread.

“It’s like Francesca told you. I let her in and we went into the kitchen. I introduced her to Mila. She just stared at your sister. I thought she was going to be sick, in fact. Mila mumbled an apology, and she bolted. She made it into the elevator before I could catch up to her. And I didn’t call the security guard, because she’s your prisoner, not mine,” Brenna adds with more than a tinge of sarcasm.

“Prisoner?”

I turn and face my sister. Goddamn it, Brenna.

“It’s not what it sounds like.” I cringe at how pathetic that lie is.

“Why would you do that to a woman, Pierce? Because she’s Russian?” Francesca yells.

“I don’t have time to talk about this right now. I have to find Mila,” I say.

Brenna clears her throat. “The security guard said she headed toward Division Street. She couldn’t have gotten far.”

“Then I’ll start in that direction.” I move toward the door, desperate to begin the search.

This entire area is owned by the syndicate. If she stops inside any business asking for help, there could be trouble. She isn’t safe by herself.

I glance back at Francesca and Brenna. “If she happens to come back, call me immediately.”

“Of course,” my sister says.

No matter how long it takes, I have to find Mila. I can’t lose her.