Chapter 4 - The Safehouse in the Pines
The Mercedes turned off the main highway, navigating a winding, unpaved road through a dense forest of tall pine trees.
Rain drummed heavily against the roof as the car finally stopped before a sprawling, rustic stone cabin hidden deep within the valley. The property was surrounded by a high chain-link fence topped with razor wire, guarded by three armed men in dark raincoats who raised their weapons until they recognized Frank’s car.
"We stay here tonight," Aleandro said, opening his door. "Tomorrow, we strike Marco."
He offered me his hand.
I looked at his broad palm, at the dark gold signet ring on his pinky finger bearing the Duca family crest. For six months, I had prayed to whatever God was listening just to hold that hand one more time.
Now that it was offered, it felt like stepping off a cliff.
"If I step out of this car, Aleandro," I whispered, looking up into his dark eyes, "I am stepping back into your world. The blood. The guns. The secrets."
"You never left my world, Emma," he said gently, his voice dropping into that hypnotic baritone that had stolen my heart two years ago. "The moment I touched your wrist at Rinaldi’s, you became mine. I am not letting you go again. Not to a grave, and not to the rain."
I took his hand.
His fingers closed around mine, warm, iron-strong, and absolute.
He pulled me out of the car and ushered me up the wooden steps into the cabin.
The interior was warm, smelling of cedar wood, stone, and crackling pine fire. A massive stone fireplace dominated the main living room, where a bright fire was already burning.
Frank walked in behind us, carrying two dark duffel bags full of weapons.
"The perimeter is clear, Don Duca," Frank reported, his tone formal, a far cry from the quiet, pitying tone he had used with me during the past six months. "Marco’s men lost our tail at the highway. But they know you’re alive now. The cemetery incident will reach Marco’s ears within the hour."
"Good," Aleandro said, unbuttoning his rain-soaked vest and tossing it onto a chair. "Let him sweat. Let him gather his captains at the estate. It saves us the trouble of hunting them down one by one."
Frank bowed his head and retreated to the lower level of the cabin to monitor the security monitors.
I stood near the fireplace, holding my cold hands toward the flames, my wet dress steaming slightly in the heat.
Aleandro walked into the adjoining bedroom and returned a minute later holding a thick, soft grey cashmere sweater and a pair of drawstring pants.
"Change," he said, setting the clothes on the sofa beside me. "You’re shivering."
I looked at the heavy sweater. "Where did you get these? They’re my size."
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Aleandro sat down on the edge of the heavy wooden coffee table, watching me with unblinking intensity.
"I bought them three months ago," he admitted quietly. "I bought six dresses, four sweaters, and three pairs of shoes for you while I was hiding in the dark. I kept them in my closet... just to remind myself what I was fighting to come back to."
