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would ever hurt her again.
    Except this time he’d been the one to hurt her. He’d been right when he told her there was no way around it. No way to stay in the picture and keep her safe. But that didn’t mean he was off the hook. He had been the source of her tears, her heartbreak. Maybe she could forgive him for it, but he wasn’t sure if he could do the same. And what did the future hold for them? Would they ever be free to live without looking over their shoulders? Could they find some semblance of a life together?
    They were questions without answers, and he kissed the top of her head, breathing in her scent. It wasn’t over, and this time he was under no delusion that she would let him go without her. She would demand to go after Raneiro, to finish the job she’d started with the men who had betrayed him. He would have no choice but to allow it. As much as he wanted to lock her high in a tower — or even here on the island — she was a fighter. She’d find a way to follow.
    He couldn’t blame her. Her life had been obliterated by the Syndicate. He’d started it when he’d taken her hostage. He would never allow himself to forget that. But he’d given the Syndicate a chance to leave her alone when he’d played dead. Instead they’d come for her in her own home.
    And that was something that would not stand.

9
    S he was squeezing oranges for juice the next morning, dawn touching the sky pink and orange, when David walked into the kitchen. He looked sleepy and disheveled, and she suddenly saw him as he’d been when they were kids; a gentle, quiet boy who’d always been quick to grab her hand, kiss her cheek.
    “Hey,” she said, turning to look at him. “It’s early. You sure you don’t want to sleep a little later?”
    He slid onto one of the bar stools at the island. “It took me awhile to settle down, but I’ve still been asleep for over twelve hours.”
    They’d all slept through yesterday, exhausted from everything that had happened and the long drive to Maine. She rinsed her hands and dried them on a towel, then poured coffee into a mug and slid it toward him.
    “I know, but it was a long night,” she said.
    He nodded, took a sip of the coffee. “Can’t sleep forever.”
    She tried not to think about the note of regret in his voice. She looked at the limp bandage on his hand instead. “Want me to clean that up for you?”
    He slipped his hand under the counter where it was out of view. “I can do it.”
    She nodded. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”
    She turned back to the bowl of eggs she’d been beating for French toast.
    “I thought he was dead,” David said behind her.
    She turned to face him and leaned against the counter. “Me, too.”
    “So?” His messy hair fell over one cocked eyebrow.
    “It’s a long story.”
    “I have time.”
    She filtered through the information, trying to find the easiest explanation for what had happened — for what was happening now. Trying to find an explanation that wouldn’t scare him.
    “Dante wasn’t in charge in LA,” she said softly. “Not really.”
    He drummed his fingers on the counter, a nervous habit from adolescence. “He seemed pretty in charge to me.”
    “Someone else was behind it. Nico knew it wouldn’t end there.”
    “So he faked his death?” He barked out a sarcastic laugh. “Seems a little melodramatic.”
    She tamped down her anger. Melodrama wasn’t the right word for what she’d been through, for what she’d felt when she thought Nico was dead. But she knew David was hurting, lashing out against the only people still close enough for him to reach.
    “Not when Raneiro Donati has a hit out on you.”
    “Donati?” His forehead crinkled as he thought about this new information. “I thought he and Nico were tight.”
    “So did Nico,” Angel said. “But apparently Nico’s business model hasn’t been warmly embraced. Raneiro has had enough.”
    “So Nico went into hiding?” David asked.
    “No.” It