“Who assigned them?” I ask.
That tight apology-riddled expression continues to stare back at me, as if his expression is answer enough. “My father. They would’ve worked for him.”
His father’s men have it in for me? His father, who Raffael himself described as violent? Cut-throat and fucking corrupt?No, he said conniving.
My mouth turns dry. “How many are there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know who they are? Names? Locations? Anything at all?”
“I haven’t been able to trace them.”
“But you’ve tried?” I beg.
“I’ve tried everything in my power this week to keep them at bay.”
The noise outside the cabin grows—a distant, urgent crescendo of activity that mirrors the panic spreading in my chest.
“It’s okay.” Raffael snatches his boxers from the nightstand, slides from the bed, and pulls them on. “They only came on the scene after rumors spread that you cut ties with the Cavallo Group. They think you’ve broken the agreement. But I’ve told them otherwise. And you’ve made a statement. As long as they believe the agreement hasn’t been breached, there’s nothing they can do.”
I hunch over, my stomach suddenly ready to purge my last meal. “But Ididbreak the agreement. Ididblacklist the Cavallo Group.”
“Shh.” He rounds the bed, scowling. “Keep your voice down.”
Oh, God, why?
Could they be listening? Is this place bugged?
I do a visual sweep of the room, eyeballing smoke detectors, scouring light fittings, lamp shades.
“Isla.” He stops in front of me, grabbing my free hand, dragging my knuckles to his lips. “I won’t let them touch you.”
Footsteps echo outside the cabin, a frantic staccato that matches the wild beat of my heart.
Raffael stiffens, his attention snapping toward the door as if he can see straight through it. Then he turns his focus to the window, doing a full one-eighty of our surroundings, as if finally aware of the outside world.
“What is it?” I cling tighter to the sheet. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re moving faster than usual.”
“What does that mean?”
He releases me, strides back around the bed, and snatches his cell from the nightstand. “It means we’re attempting to outrun something.”
Something or someone?
I panic. Breathing erratic, pulse chaotic.
A sharp knock at the door makes us both freeze.
“Mr. Cavallo, sir?” the bosun calls out, voice strained.
Raffael’s posture stiffens with predatory stillness. “What is it?”
“Another boat, sir. They’ve been shadowing us since sunrise. They’re requesting permission to board.”
Raffael steps around me, stalking toward his walk-in closet. “Give me two minutes.”