Page 156 of Matteo
“But one thing doesn’t make sense,” Dad continued. “The FBI only deals with domestic matters. When we questioned the doctor who was part of the organ trafficking, he mentioned their dealings have mostly been overseas.”
My jaw dropped. It was shocking to think that there were men out there willing to butcher human beings for their organs.
“There has to be more to it,” Matteo reasoned. “Also, there’s no way one man is a mastermind behind the resurrection of the Belles and Mobsters Agreements and these auctions. There had to be others working with him.”
“There are,” Dad confirmed, rubbing his face tiredly. “The moment I heard about Marco’s son, I knew trouble would follow. Fucking heathen.”
“We’re all descendants of heathens, Dad.” I leaned forward and gripped the screen. “But this guy… yeah, he’s decidedly not good news.”
“I really hoped you’d never hear about Benito King and Marco.” His calm voice didn’t fool me. It was obvious there was history between them and my parents. “My intel shows that Marco wasn’t even listed on his son’s birth certificate. The fact you were able to connect it all is a miracle.”
“Sheer luck,” I muttered, not willing to throw my sister completely under the bus. If Dad knew, he’d lock her up and throw away the key. “I just went digging through online Welsh birth records.”
I really hoped Dad would buy into the story I was spinning.
“Why Welsh?” Matteo asked.
“Benito King was Welsh and so was Marco,” Dad explained. “So it makes sense that Marco’s son has roots in Wales.”
I nodded. “Exactly.”
“Send me what you have, Arianna. I’ll run it through my system. Do you have agent Lloyd’s picture?”
“I only have a sketch. I’ll send that.”
“Good.” Dad glared at Matteo. “Bring her home.”
Matteo glared back. “When our honeymoon is over and she’s safe.”
“Son, you don’t want me as your enemy.”
The two stared at each other as if it was some kind of competition.
“We’ll be home soon, Dad,” I said before hanging up, then turned to face my husband.
This wouldn’t be easy, but we’d make it work.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
ARIANNA
After putting on my snow boots, I knotted my hair on top, grabbed the keys to the snowmobile and Matteo’s gun, and made my way out of the igloo.
“You can’t keep running off, Ari.” I froze, not saying a word.
Suddenly, rage flooded my system and I whirled around to skewer him. He was barefoot and shirtless, wearing nothing but jeans that hung low on his hips, and I had to press a hand to my racing heart that always seemed to get excited around him.
“I’m not running off,” I spat angrily. “I’m leaving so I can cool off and not kill you.”
We’d spent the past two days arguing. He wanted to stay here longer, keep me in this bubble that he’d created for us. I wanted to go home. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it here—not that I would tell him that—but I couldn’t stay here in our protective bubble while the world was imploding out there.
“I don’t care if you shoot me, just stay.”
I let out a frustrated groan. “It’s time we leave, Matteo. Our families need us home. My sister needs me. Both of them do.”
“Arianna, I promised to help you, but first… we need to keep you safe. Hannah cannot keep coming in between us.”
“She could be in danger, Matteo,” I hissed. “You’re asking me to put her safety on hold while I—we—work on our ‘happiness.’” I threw my fingers up in air quotes for good measure.
