“She gets full control of it. She can liquidate the assets,” Tucker says. “It would only take a DNA test to prove she’s their biological daughter.”
“Exactly.” Harlow crosses her arms.
“Then explain the text messages. Why did it read like you were working with Felicity to keep this deal from happening?”
Harlow is quiet for a moment. She purses her lips, and her gaze darts from side to side. “Because I want my son to pay for all of the evil he’s committed. I want the legacy my husband was so determined to protect to be burned down until it’s nothing but ash,” she growls. “Felicity felt the same. Neither one of us signed up for this when we got married.”
“You expect us to believe that you both accidentally married the heads of separate crime families? Those odds don’t quite add up,” Tucker says.
Harlow glares at him. “I found out after the fact that the only reason he married me was because he knew I was friends with Felicity, and he was hoping to have me pump her for information on Gio. So no, Mr. Hunt, I suppose the marriages weren’t by accident. However, I never would have married him had I known the type of man he was.”
I almost feel bad for her.
“Then why didn’t you leave?”
She turns to me. “I had a son. And despite everything, I wanted him to know his father. I thought that I could keep him from following along in his footsteps, but by the time I realized I was wrong, it was too late.” Her eyes fill, but she blinks the tears away.
“Did you help Felicity rescue Emma?”
She swallows hard. “I had a hand in making sure Gio let her leave the house. He was intent on keeping her there up until the wedding, but when I spoke to Heath that morning, I told him he needed to make sure he could get Gio alone so they could discuss the parameters of the deal. I also made sure to mention that the woman would likely be less of a headache if she had another reason for wanting to stay around.”
“Such as a relationship with her mother,” Tucker finishes.
“Exactly.”
“But how could you know it would work?” I ask.
“I didn’t. I merely started the dominoes so Felicity could get her out.” She dabs at her eyes with a small paper napkin. “Then they killed her for it.”
“And here I thought it was a robbery,” I say, my attempt to gauge her reaction.
She glares at me. “We both know that’s not true. Gio had her and that boutique owner killed for rescuing your Emmaline. And instead of staying in hiding so that Felicity’s death wasn’t for nothing, what do you do? You go poking your nose into places it shouldn’t be.”
I ignore her. Pretending there isn’t a threat doesn’t make it go away. It only makes it harder to react when the predator finally strikes. And he will strike. “Felicity told us that we needed to keep Emma safe until after November 1st. Why?”
Harlow lets out a heavy breath and takes a drink of her coffee. “As I told you, I want to see both organizations leveled to nothing but ash. So Felicity and I started a chain of events that will—” Delta lets out a warning bark seconds before glass shatters, and I dive to the ground, taking Tucker with me.
Without hesitation, I crawl over and tug Harlow down to the ground. She lands on her back, blood saturating the front of her blouse. “Tucker, she’s been hit!”
“On it.” Tucker presses both hands to her chest while I crawl toward the window ledge to peer out. Jesper stays where he is, weapon in hand, watching the back door just in case they flank us.
“What is happening?” the barista screams.
“Stay down!” I order. With adrenaline surging through my system like molten lava, I scan the street, looking for our shooter. It doesn’t take me long to see him because he’s not even trying to hide. A man dressed in black waves at me from the top of a building across the street. “He’s there!” I yell as he ducks back out of view.
Delta snarls, ready for a fight.
I turn back around as Tucker raises one blood-stained hand to remove some gauze from the tactical backpack at his side. My gaze drops to Harlow and the blood pooling beneath her. And when I see Tucker’s bloody hand retrieve more gauze, I’m thrown back to the server room with him, watching the life drain from his eyes.
I’m thrust into the past. Back even before I nearly lost my twin.
Flashbacks slam into me—one after the other.
Blood dripping onto concrete. Deafening screams. Excruciating pain.
It’s all there, firing one right after the other in rapid succession.
Delta whimpers and rests his head against me, but I barely feel him.
