living relatives.
“You look just like Renata, by the way.”
She turned to him, her mouth wide open. It was a mistake, a horrible mistake. She just needed to get them to see it. “You have the wrong person. I don’t know a Renata. And my aunt struggles with dementia so she’s no threat to you.” She turned her clicker on and steered toward the side of the road. She’d let them out, promise to never tell a soul. Maybe they’d leave her and her great-aunt alone. Please, Lord.
“Nice try,” the man named Benito said. “Stay straight, Gabriella. Your mother knew how to keep a secret. Impressive she kept it from her own daughter. Samantha was not your mother’s real name, just like Frederica is not your great-aunt’s name.”
She clenched her jaw. Every muscle tightened as she pressed on the gas and regained speed. “If you actually knew them, you’d know they never let anyone address them like that.”
“Ah, that’s right. Only Sam and Freddie.” He shook his head. “Very clever to use masculine names. If you hadn’t made national news, we’d likely never have found you.” He clucked his tongue in an annoying rhythm. “This ranch of yours is really in the middle of nowhere, isn’t it? Believe it or not, I’m sorry to hear your mother passed. Her real name was Renata Mirabella. Your great-aunt is Amalia Mirabella.”
Her stomach lurched. It had to be a lie and a dirty trick to make such accusations when her mother wasn’t alive to defend herself. Her eyes burned, and her throat hurt to swallow. “What do you want?”
“Your mother made herself very useful to the family back in the day. She grew up helping out. She was your grandpa and great-uncle’s favorite.”
The man in back scoffed. “Shows how poor their judgment was.”
Benito ignored him. “Eventually your mom handled the bookkeeping and served as a messenger between the bosses. Even snuggled up to the right people to help with some scores. After her father died, she disappeared, taking Uncle Claudio’s wife—your aunt—with her. But she left a note. Said she had enough evidence to send most of the family to the chair. Upon her death, it would be delivered to the FBI. So we didn’t chase her, on your great-uncle Claudio’s orders.”
Gabriella’s foot slipped off the gas. Her mom had worked for the mob? No. Not possible. She shook her head. “I don’t understand what it is you want from me.”
“It’s very simple. Get us the evidence, and we let you and your aunt go without consequence, out of respect for the family.” He sighed. “I had a great fondness for your mother.”
She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision as she turned down the long road that led to the ranch. She could see the wrought iron gates in front of the man-made lake. “You had a fondness for her? That’s why you’re holding her aunt hostage.” The sarcasm kept her from leaping out of her seat and punching Benito in his smug face.
“I understand your mother didn’t teach you the family business,” he answered, his voice steady, “but affection only goes so far. If a relative turns on us, we turn on them. We do what it takes to protect the family.” His chin jutted out. “Drive inside,” he said.
Her shaky finger moved to the clicker. Her sanctuary, her safe place—she didn’t want to let these crazy people in. The gate swung open as she turned in to the driveway. “But you don’t understand. Even if you don’t believe me that my mom never ran with the mafia, I’m telling you she didn’t leave behind anything but this property. No evidence, no money...nothing! You could search the house and—”
“We already did,” the gruff voice behind interrupted.
She inhaled sharply. What if she had slept at home the past week? What would they have done? She pulled her elbows in closer to her torso as she drove, wishing she could curl up in a ball, away from them.
“It’s a big property,” Benito said. “And your mom wouldn’t be one to trust banks. Besides, we’ve already checked.”
“So why kill ourselves trying to find it when you can do the work for us?” the man in back added.
“Even if you’re right, which I promise you’re not, why would you think the evidence hasn’t already gone to the FBI?” She looked in her rearview mirror. The black sedan stayed behind her down the mile-long driveway that meandered through the property until they reached the house.
“If the FBI had it already, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Our sources think your mom left it for you.” Benito winked. “Besides, we have connections. We would know if something was about to go down. But if that happened, it’d get...complicated for you and your aunt.”
Gabriella pulled to a stop in front of the house but hesitated to shift into Park. The man in the back leaned forward, and through the rearview mirror she could see the way he leered. She kept one foot on the brake and one foot on the gas, in case he moved to try anything. At the very least she could drive into the lake.
“You have twenty-four hours, more or less,” Benito said. “Depends on when the meds wear off on your auntie.”
She gaped. “You can’t be serious.”
He stepped one foot out of the vehicle. “And if you feel tempted to call the police, we have people ready at a moment’s notice to make sure your aunt never opens her eyes again.”
“I’m telling you my aunt is no threat to you!”
He shrugged, unfazed. “We’d also need to alert someone to the fact the sizable anonymous donation your little foundation accepted last week came from a lawyer known to have ties with the Mirabella family. You may not know it now, but your grandfather and great-uncle made our name quite famous.” He winked, left the car, straightened his jacket and bent down slightly. “We’ll be in touch in twenty-four hours. Goodbye, Gabriella.”
The man in the back stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. She flinched and pressed herself against the window. He laughed and joined his boss in the sedan.
Her bones ached as if they’d been filled with cement. How could this be happening? The black sedan squeezed past her car and continued around the circular drive, past the lake. It disappeared behind the willow trees on its way back to the gate. A second later, a navy Dodge Ram pulled up behind her. At the sign of the shined wingtips, Gabriella shoved the car door open. “Luke, get down.”
His eyes widened, but he hunched over and looked around.
“Stay there.” Gabriella watched out the side window as she saw glimpses through the foliage of the black sedan nearing the gate. If they spotted Luke, there was no telling what they would do, and she didn’t want to find out.
The sedan didn’t seem to slow down, and since the house wasn’t visible from the road, maybe they were in the clear. She held her breath a moment longer until the vehicle disappeared from sight.
She exhaled and dropped her head. What was she going to do?
“Are you okay?” Luke bent down to look into her eyes.
Gabriella brushed the escaping tear away with the heel of her hand. “Relatively speaking.”
His eyes narrowed. “Who was in the black sedan?”
She
