Vendetta(82)

“Sophie,” Jack was saying, his words edged with one big, constant sigh, “they’re not going to hurt you. I wouldn’t have left you behind if I thought that. Those boys are just shooting their mouths off. That family love the sound of their own voice.”

“They want revenge, Jack.” I slammed the door behind me and fixed the chain in place. “They want a blood debt for what Dad did. Luca told me himself!” I skirted into the kitchen and climbed onto the countertop. I clamped the phone between my shoulder and my ear so I could lock the windows shut.

The phone line buzzed with Jack’s defiance. “Ignore what Luca said. He’s just trying to frighten you.”

I slid off the counter. “But why?”

“Listen. The Falcones’ problem is with me. Just me. Not you.”

“What do you mean with you?” I jiggled the back door handle to make sure it was locked.

“I can’t go into it now. I’ve sent Eric Cain for you. He’ll keep you safe. You’ve met him before, at my birthday a few years ago.”

“I remember,” I said, vaguely recalling a small, effeminate man with enviable dark-red hair. How exactly was he supposed to keep me safe?

“I’ll meet you somewhere outside of Cedar Hill and we’ll talk about it.”

“What about Mom?” I asked.

My uncle had the audacity to laugh. I balled my fist until my nails dug into my palm.

“They wouldn’t go near Celine,” he said dismissively. “She’s got nothing to do with me. It’s common knowledge your mother loathes the ground I walk on. And they’re not interested in punishing your dad, Sophie. Have you locked the doors?”

“Yes.” I was in the hall again. I took the stairs two at a time, deciding to lock all the second-floor windows just in case. “Why are you taking me away if I’m not in danger? At least tell me something so I can be prepared.”

“It’s a precaution, Sophie.” He labored over the word “precaution” like it would make me feel better. It didn’t. “They would never go after you for what your dad did. The very idea is ridiculous. And even if they did, which they wouldn’t, the Falcone Mafia doesn’t hurt innocents. It’s one of their almighty, crap-loaded, self-righteous rules. And they just love being self-righteous.”

I could practically taste the venom. So Jack knew everything I did, and he had decided to be coy about it. And did that mean he wasn’t innocent? What exactly had he done to make it onto the Deserves-to-Die list? “Sounds like you know a lot about them. Thanks for the heads-up.” You could have saved me a whole lot of time and swooning.

“I did give you a heads-up.”

“Yeah. A crap one.”

I sprinted back downstairs, my feet hammering against the steps like thunder.

“Sophie, I really can’t get into this now.” His voice was weary. “Just sit tight. I’ve sent someone.”

“I’m trying.” I slid through the ajar door into the living room and snapped the window shut. I was in the middle of pulling the curtains closed when I heard a voice behind me.

“Hello, Sophie.”

I dropped the phone. Gino and Dom Falcone stood up from the couch at the same time, moving toward me with matching gaits.

“How did you get into my house?” I tried to find where my phone had fallen, but the room was almost pitch-black. They both shrugged, their faces disguised by the darkness. Had they rehearsed this?

“You should go.” I folded my arms in what I hoped was an act of defiance. I raised my voice, too, hoping Jack was still listening. “I’m expecting visitors.”

Gino’s laugh was a rasping bark. Dom stopped two feet away from me, and his brother hovered behind him, his ponytail adding two solid inches to his height. They smirked the same menacing smile.

“What do you want, Dom?”

“Ideally, Jack,” he said. Behind him, Gino nodded animatedly in agreement. “But we can’t waste any more time trying to find him. We’re done chasing.”

“And following you has gotten us nowhere,” added Gino, his unibrow furrowed above fathomless eyes. “It’s been so boring.”

I stumbled backward, hitting the backs of my knees against the window ledge. “You’ve been following me?”

I prayed Jack was still listening from wherever my phone had landed.

“Yes,” said Dom matter-of-factly. “When we found out who you were, it was a stroke of luck. We thought you’d eventually lead us to your uncle …” The way he said it made it sound like he was disappointed in me for failing at a task I had no idea I was doing. “But you didn’t.”