He pulls back and looks at me like I’ve asked if the sky is blue. “Yes, baby. Very powerful mafia.”
I blink. A connection fires in the back of my brain. “Frankie?”
His eyes go wide. “Excuse me?”
“My dad. His business funds some guy named Frankie. He’s always at my dad’s galas and stuff. Always scared the shit out of me, but strangely he was really nice to me.”
Hunter chuckles and rubs my shoulder. “That’ll be Frankie Falcone. Your father does business with him, hmm?”
I nod. “I don’t know what. Now I don’t want to know.”
“Frankie is a good contact to have in your pocket. He will look after you if you ever need it.”
I stir my straw, trying to connect all the pieces of my life that suddenly look very different from this side of the country. “And if my dad pisses him off? I’ll be the first hit?”
Hunter’s eyes darken. “No. Because you’re mine. And we never hurt each other’s families. We protect them with our lives.”
I blow out a breath. “Fuck. This is a lot,” I say, half laughing because the alternative is screaming.
“Too much?”
I shake my head and press myself against his side. Feeling his arm tighten around me. “I’m not running, Hunter. Not anymore. I think I’ve found the place I was always meant to be.”
No matter where I am, danger is always there. Even back home in New York. It’s no different. Except here, beside Hunter, it’s my choice.
He presses a kiss to the side of my head and lets his lips linger there. “I’ve got one more question,” he whispers.
My heart kicks up. I don’t know why. Something about the way he says it. Almost like there are nerves under the surface.
“Okay,” I say carefully. “One more…”
He doesn’t ask it.
Not yet.
Instead, he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket. And pulls out a ring.
My breath stops. I swear my heart does too.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
HUNTER
I’ve been carryingthis ring in my pocket all morning.
Tucked in the inside pocket of my jacket, pressed against my chest, right over my heart. My mother’s engagement ring. She wore it every day of her life. Even in the hospital at the end, when her fingers were so thin it had to be taped to keep from slipping off.
Dad gave it to me the morning after Mom’s funeral, and said she wanted me to have it. Told me to give it to someone who deserved it.
I never thought I would.
Until her.
Lola is staring at the ring in my hand. Her lips are parted. Her eyes are wide and glassed over, and her whole body has gone still.
“Hunter,” she hiccups. “What is that?”
“My mother’s ring.”