Page 7 of Blood Money

“Your grandma is in the hospital,” she sobbed.

Shit.

“What’s going on? Is she okay?” My blood ran cold. Mynonnahad been sick off and on over the past year. She’d come down with pneumonia, and it had kicked her ass. It had also been how we found out that she was in congestive heart failure. Left-sided heart failure as a result of years of uncontrolled hypertension, they’d explained. Basically, her left ventricle wasn’t working effectively, and fluid would build up, causing shortness of breath and coughing.

“She wasn’t taking her meds, and she went into fluid overload. They said if Steve hadn’t found her, she would’ve probably drowned in her own fluids,” she explained with a hiccup. Steve was my grandma’s nurse who Mom hired to check on her once a week. Thank God for perfect timing.

“All right, but she’s okay right now?” I asked, my heart thundering. I may be a grown-ass woman, but I wasn’t ready to lose my nonna.

“They said she is, but I need you to go to her. Your father and I are trying to get back, but there have been a ton of flights canceled. You’re close enough to drive, and you’d definitely get there before we would. Please?” she pleaded. They were currently living in Ireland. My dad had been born and raised there but went to college in America, which was where he met my mom. About five years ago, he got an incredible job offer back in his hometown, and they’d made the decision to take it.

My eyes closed, and I hung my head. I had a million things to do here, too, but this was Nonna. “Yeah. I’ll get this order done and see if I can drop them off to my customer tonight. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“Th-Th-Thank you, sweetheart,” Mom stuttered, and my heart went out to her. Like me, my mom was an only child, but she’d already lost her dad. Nonna was all she had left.

“No worries, Mom. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Damn it all.I hated Chicago. Once upon a time, I loved it. Now, it was big and crowded. I enjoyed my life in Grand Rapids. It was quiet. Safe.

And there was no Vittorio De Luca.

At the memory of his name, a phantom blade pierced my heart and sliced it wide open.

Maybe he moved.

I couldn’t be that lucky.

I packed what I’d need for several days, but I didn’t plan on being there longer than that. At least I prayed this was just a minor setback for Nonna,and she would be home soon. Last night, I called to check on her and let her know I was coming. Then I dropped my customer’s cookies off, thankful that my customer was one of my neighbors.

After I woke up, I called Nonna again to let her know I was leaving soon. Of course, she told me it wasn’t necessary for me to travel to Chicago.

As I set my small suitcase by the door, I popped into my kitchen to check on the cookies I’d decorated for her. They were dry, so I sealed them in plastic to keep them fresh longer, then carefully placed them in tissue cups and in a small box.

It took me one trip to get my single bag and my purse in the car, then another for the box of cookies. Maybe I was a bit OCD about my cookies, but I didn’t want to risk dropping them. They went in my front floorboard on a towel so they didn’t touch the mats. I didn’t want to risk hitting the brakes and having them slide off the seat.

When I got behind the wheel, I sat there a moment. “You can do this. Go straight there. No looking around. Stay focused on the road and getting from Point A to Point B.”

The miles passed, and the closer I got to Chicago, the more my anxiety amped up. By the time I was about forty-five minutes away, I was breaking out in a cold sweat. I never drove this far. In the past, when I went back to Nonna’s, I took the train. No one wanted to drive through Chicago if they didn’t have to.

Okay, that might have been an exaggeration. It was me—I was “no one.” It was a nightmare.

Unable to keep going without having a nervous breakdown, I pulled off the highway. I figured it would be better to get gas there instead of having to get it anywhere in the city. Then I wouldn’t need to fill up again until I was safely on my way home.

I told myself I was being smart. Really, I was stalling, and I damn well knew it.

Rolling up to the gas pump, I turned off my car and laid my head on top of my hands that were practically bending the steering wheel. As I practiced my deep breathing, I had no idea how long I’d sat there. A knock on the window had me screaming as I popped my head up, my heart damn near hammering through my ribs.

A man stood looking in my window, his face pinched with concern. “Are you okay?” he shouted though the glass.

“I’m fine,” I replied, my voice raised to be heard though the glass as well. No way was I opening my door until he was a safe distance away.

He gave me a nod but didn’t look like he believed me. Thankfully, he wandered back toward his vehicle at one of the other pumps. When I got out, he stared at me, giving me chills.

“That’s not creepy at all,” I mumbled under my breath as I locked my doors.

Nervous, I hurried inside to use the restroom and prepay for my gas. Inside, I wasted time in hopes the dude would finish up and leave before I went back out.

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