For losing our child… the one I didn’t even know I wanted until it was too late.

I have no idea what my punishment will be, but whatever it is, it’ll be more than deserved.

“We have to go to the police,” my mom says again. “We need to report—”

“No.” This time, it’s Julian who rises to his feet and begins to pace in front of the couch. “That wouldn’t be wise.”

“Why?” my dad asks sharply. “This is what civilized people do in this country. They go to the authorities—”

“The authorities are in Sullivan’s pocket.” Julian stops to give my dad a harsh look. “And even if they weren’t, we might as well send Sullivan an email saying who we are.”

“Right.” I jump to my feet, ignoring the pain in my sore muscles. Finally, my sluggish brain connects all the dots, and I realize why Julian brought my parents here. If the man Julian gutted last night is indeed the head mobster’s son, then my husband isn’t the only dangerous criminal out for vengeance. “Mom, Dad, we can’t do that.”

My mom looks startled. “But, Nora—”

“It will be best if the two of you come visit us for a bit,” Julian says, walking over to stand next to me. “Just until we get this situation sorted out.”

“What?” My mom gapes at us. “What do you mean? Why? Oh.” She abruptly falls silent. “You did something to one of those men last night, didn’t you?” she says slowly, looking at Julian. “You don’t want them to know who we are because… because—”

“Because one of Sullivan’s sons is dead, yes.” Julian might as well be corroborating the weather report. “They’ll be looking for us, and when they figure out who we are, they’ll come after you and Tony.”

My mom visibly blanches, and my dad rises to his feet. “You’re saying the mob is after us?” His voice is filled with angry disbelief. “That they might attack us because… because you—”

“Killed one of Sullivan’s sons for trying to hurt Nora, yes.” Julian’s voice is the coldest I’ve ever heard it. “We can worry about casting blame later. For now, since I don’t want Nora grieving for her parents, I suggest you notify your employers of your upcoming vacation and start packing.”

“When are we leaving?” my mom asks, her face pale as she stands up as well. “And how long will this vacation be?”

“Gabs, you’re not seriously thinking—” my dad begins, but my mom places her hand on his arm.

“I am.” My mom’s voice is steady now, her gaze filled with resolve. “I don’t want this any more than you do, but you’ve heard about the Sullivans. They’re bad news, and if Julian says we’re in danger—”

“You trust this murderer?” My dad turns to glare at her. “You think we’ll be safer with him?”

“Than here with the mob seeking vengeance? Yes, I think we will be,” my mom retorts. “We don’t exactly have many options, do we?”