“I’ll see you at lunch. I’m making a lemon chicken piccata. Does that sound all right?”
“It sounds amazing,” I say between bites.
“Good. Theresa, let’s get to the market.”
They leave, and the kitchen feels a few degrees cooler as I finish my noodles and place my bowl in the sink. I find myself wishing I could go with them to the market. But I don’t ask. That would only make it awkward when they had to tell me no. I’m certain everyone has strict orders to keep me locked up in this gray stone prison, especially when Mateo is gone. It doesn’t matter. I’m going to spend the morning checking all the exits, the nooks and crannies, and keeping tabs on the soldiers. My mind made up, I rinse my bowl and empty coffee cup, then walk toward the door. As soon as I find an opening in the soldiers’ patrols, I’ll—
I yelp as the kitchen door swings toward me so fast it almost nails me in the face.
“Whoa!” A man matches my yell.
I step back and bump into the island as he swings the door open more slowly this time. Dark hair, dark eyes, and with a jawline I’d recognize anywhere. This has to be one of Mateo’s relatives. A cousin or a brother by the look of him, definitely younger. Mateo is late twenties. This man looks my age, and he’s dressed like he just came from a fabulous beach vacation, with matching tan. His eyeliner is also done in a perfect wing.
“You’re the wife?” He looks me up and down. “Why are you dressed like a ragamuffin?”
“Why are you dressed like you like pina coladas?” I shoot back.
He snorts a laugh. “Fair. I was actually auditioning for a bit part in a shark movie when I heard my brother got hitched and did a few murders. I jumped a plane from sunny L.A. and now I’m here with you. But where’s Mateo? He’s not answering his phone. The prick.” He strides in and glances along the line of foods, a slight frown creasing his handsome face. “Carter isn’t making me those apple fritter things anymore?”
“You’re his brother?” I can’t square this guy—one with a witty, easygoing style—with the brooding, angry, violent man who shares my bed.
“Carlito.” He picks up a piece of bread and dabs it in some herb-filled olive oil before taking a bite. “But they call me Lito for short.”
“I’m Lucretia.”
“I know.” He takes another bite, then turns to me. “You still haven’t told me why you look like an extra from a low-budget production of a filthy version of Annie.”
I can’t explain it, but I want to laugh and also say something smart back. It’s like he’s put me at ease, though I don’t know how.
“Because your brother only gives me hooker clothes to wear.”
“Well, my dear, sex work is work, you know.” He sighs. “Now where is he? I need to talk with him about this disaster.” He waves a hand at my shirt dress. “Not to mention his beef with half the families now that he’s done the whole blood bath thing at your wedding.”
“He’s gone. One of his men got into trouble—”
“Red.” He rolls his eyes. “Has to be Red.”
“I think so. Mateo left this morning to try to get him out of federal custody, I guess. Sonny went with him.”
“That leaves Benny. Have you seen him?” He dusts the crumbs off his shirt.
“No, but I just got down here.”
He leans against the island for a few moments, possibly thinking the situation over.
I edge toward the door, eager to go on my reconnaissance mission.
He runs a hand through his dark hair. “The way I see it is I’m here to solve a handful of problems, but because Mateo has run off, I can only solve one.” He points at my dress. “That problem is you. I honestly can’t stand to look at this crap anymore. We’re going shopping.”
“Wh-what?” I don’t think I’ve ever felt more perplexed in my life.
He snaps his fingers. “I thought they said you went to college?”
“What? I did!”
“Then you should understand that you and I are going shopping. Grab whatever you need. I’ll drive.”
“You don’t understand. If I leave here with you, Mateo will—”
“Be really pissed and scary and grumpy. Yes, I know.” He gives an exasperated sigh. “I’m his brother, after all. I’ve dealt with his moody drama all my life. I can handle him. Now let’s go.”
I sputter, trying to think of a way to describe exactly how much punishment will fall on our heads, but then I stop myself. This is what I’ve been looking for—an opportunity to escape!
“Okay. I’m ready.”
He shakes his head. “If you say so. Come on.” He walks out of the kitchen, and I follow as he leads me past Mateo’s office and into the side hall that opens to the garage.