Page 50 of Inside the Maelstrom: Part Two
If I wanted to escape the world, maybe I’d go to an island with one of the most active volcanoes on the planet. Then it was in God's hands, right?
Finally, I saw the one person who could make this situation better.
“There,” I called, pointing through the crowd. I picked up my duffle, slinging it over my shoulder, and sprinted. God, I couldn’t wait to have her in my arms. Evan saw me coming, which was probably the only reason I didn’t end up on my ass when I wrapped my arms around her waist from behind and lifted her off the ground.
“Oof, what the…” She saw Sampson and Otto, moving more politely through the crowd. “Hendrick! Put me down so I can kiss you, you crazy bastard.”
I dropped her back to her feet, and she spun in my arms, pulling me down for a kiss that was full of longing. It felt like months instead of days since I’d seen her, and I breathed her in like oxygen.
Then she was being spun out of my arms and into Sampson’s, Otto waiting patiently as always. We were making a spectacle when Sampson kissed her just as possessively.
“Missed you, Good Girl.” He dropped his arms, giving Viva the chance to move into Otto’s waiting embrace. Otto kissed her softly, but there was no shortage of feeling.
Someone close by sighed. “It’s hard seeing someone else living your dream,” came a distinct Australian accent.
“Hell yeah. Get it, girl,” her friend said, and I looked over to see a group of women watching as they waited by the conveyor belt for their luggage. I winked, making the middle one flush red.
“Yeah, but that one’s trouble, for sure,” the third one said, and they all laughed as they picked up their luggage and hustled out of the terminal.
Aviva tugged my arm, her own cheeks pink. “That was awkward.”
“Better get used to it, Chaos.” Evan sighed. “Let’s get out of here before you four get arrested for public indecency.”
We’d missed the last ferry to Stromboli for the day, so we’d booked a room in Palermo, and ordered everything off the room service menu. It reminded me of the first time Aviva stayed with us in a hotel, the night we’d watched her eat gourmet food while she made those sinful noises.
No one spoke about the assassination attempt. No one spoke about Nemo. We allowed ourselves to justbe, and it healed something that had been fraying inside me for a while. If I was talking to my therapist—whichever one was on rotation at the time—I would say that it felt like I’d spent my whole life holding my breath, always ready to take the next blow.
For the first time, it felt like I was landing the blows.
Finally, after some wine, I could feel Viva’s eyes on my cheek, on the bullet wound that was like a neon sign that our life was perilous. She stood up and came to sit in my lap, kissing just below the butterfly strips.
“This was too close.”
I wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close to my chest. I met Otto’s eyes. “I know. But never again, baby. I promise.”
She buried her face in my neck, and I felt her deflate into my arms. “You can’t know that.”
Otto stroked her back. “Actually, we can.”
She pulled back, looking between us. “What do you mean?”
It was time to tell her the plan. “We’ve been working with the FBI for six years. Yesterday morning, we sent in everything we had. He’ll be in jail before the end of the week.”
Her eyes went so wide, I wondered if her eyelids had rolled up like one of those old-fashioned cartoons. “Holy shit.”
I’d been seventeen when my father’s first company went bust. It was an investment firm, and he’d dipped into it a few too many times. He’d been raging when he came home, and my mother was away at a health spa at the time.
I had almost finished my fancy prep school, so I was home. He’d come home already drunk and found me in the kitchen. The twenty-four hours that followed were the worst of my life, and they might have been my last hours if the butler hadn’t grown a conscience and dragged me out of there while my father was passed out. The butler never came back, which was probably a wise move on his part.
He’d taken me to the hotel where Sampson had been living at the time, a little less fancy than the Regis, but still nice. He’d dropped me on the curb, and I never saw him again. Fuck, I couldn’t even remember his name anymore. Sampson had found me on my knees at his hotel room door; I don’t think he’d even realized I was being abused. Not like Otto, who’d been patching up my wounds for years.
He’d called Otto, who’d brought his mom. They’d taken me to the hospital, but I didn’t let them call the cops. My father was always worse if he thought I’d told someone about what was happening.
Sampson had been livid. Beyond livid. He’d been more furious than I’d ever seen him. He’d decided then and there that we were going to bring my father down.
And when he fell to the pits of Hell where he belonged, he was never going to get back up.
“I still don’t understand. How did the FBI get involved?” Aviva asked from where she was sitting cross-legged on my bed.
