Heather Woodhaven - Code Of Silence

He raised his left eyebrow. “Is this about the assisted living bills?”

She cringed. There he went, getting the wrong idea. She could see the pity in his eyes. “No. It’s a private matter.”

Luke crossed his arms across his chest, his strength evident as his biceps bulged against the suit jacket. “At least let me see you inside and make you a cup of tea. You look like you could faint.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he held out a hand. “You don’t need to tell me any more if you don’t want to, but I hope you know that I’m a great listener.”

Unbidden memories sprang to mind: sitting together on a stone bench on campus after they’d just found out about their fiancés, organizing board game tournaments in the commons, studying at the library, laughing at the movie playing in the park. “I remember,” she said softly.

If she argued against his kindness any more, he would dig in his heels. Luke was as determined and stubborn as he was thoughtful and kind—probably why he succeeded in his career. She shrugged. “I have no idea what’s in the pantry. I haven’t been sleeping here, just stopping in on mornings to grab clothes.”

She wanted to spend as little time as possible in the house. While it was not much easier to stay with her aunt in assisted living, coming home without her mother and aunt there proved too painful to endure.

He turned to face the front door. “We’ll figure something out.”

Luke looked up, gazing at the house her best friend from high school had once described as “a rich person’s idea of getting back to nature.” She agreed it made for an impressive sight. The luxury log cabin with tall windows and a brick foundation looked gorgeous in front of the backdrop of lakes, mountains and pine trees.

He led her to the front door. His arm shot out, blocking her path.

“What?” she asked. “What is it?”

“Did you lock the door when you left? It’s slightly ajar.” He pulled a phone from his pocket.

Her eyes darted to the door. She put a hand on his arm. “I’m sure you don’t need to call the police.” Benito said they’d already checked the house. But even if someone else had robbed all the contents, she wouldn’t call the police until she got her aunt back.

“Don’t you have a security system?”

It served as another reminder of a long list of things she couldn’t afford. “I shut it down last week when I wasn’t able to pay the bill.” She closed her eyes, replaying the events of the morning.

Could she remember locking the door behind her? “I was in such a rush this morning it’s possible this is my fault. Not to mention I’ve been operating in a fog the past few weeks.” She narrowed her eyes, trying to focus. “If you don’t fully press in the lever on the handle when you close the door, it bounces back open.”

His eyes widened. “Are you serious? You didn’t lock it?”

“I locked it from the inside. When I’m running behind I don’t usually lock the dead bolt. The gate locks, and we have barbed wire around the property.” She pulled out her phone. “Which reminds me, I should lock the gate now.”

She clicked in the access code, turned and squinted in order to see the gate’s remote response in action. At the first sight of movement she headed up the front steps. “Let’s get to that tea.”

The faster she could down a cuppa, the faster she could hustle Luke out the door and focus on finding a solution to save her aunt. She pressed open the door and stepped inside.

The chairs in the entryway were slashed, bits of stuffing covering the marbled flooring. Why’d they need to go to such lengths? Surely they didn’t expect to find something in the cushions of the chair. Had someone destroyed everything for the fun of it?

Luke’s hand tugged on her shoulder. “I’m calling the police.”

“I don’t think so.” A man dressed all in black strode around the corner. He lifted his right arm and aimed a gun at her chest. “We need to have a little chat.”

Gabriella gasped as Luke stepped in front of her, shielding her. Another mafia member? Why was he here if they’d already searched the house?

Gabriella stared at the man’s balding head, green eyes and five o’clock shadow. The gunman shook his weapon at Luke. “Get out of the way.”

“I will not,” Luke said.

While touched by his chivalry, she knew Luke would only escalate the problem. Gabriella’s hand pressed into his back as her chin poked around his arm. “I thought I had twenty-four hours.”

Luke’s back stiffened under her fingertips. She’d let the cat out of the bag now. He knew she was keeping something from him.

Uncertainty crossed the gunman’s features, but he blinked it away. “The timeline’s been moved up,” he said.

Her gut churned. If he wasn’t on the same page as Benito, why was he here?

“Take what you want and leave,” Luke said.

He scoffed. “I don’t want your garbage.” His eyes drifted to Gabriella. “I think she knows what I want.”

So he was part of the mafia, then. Gabriella’s throat tightened. “Benito didn’t mention you.”

He sneered. “Of course not. He’s a punk with no manners. I’m Rodrigo Valenti. I worked for your uncle for years.”

“As I told Benito, I never even met this so-called uncle.”

He shrugged. “But your mama did. I heard all about it from your uncle before he passed.”

All the talk of supposed relatives made her mad enough to almost forget about the gun. Almost. “Despite whatever you may have heard, I have no idea where this supposed evidence is. There’s been a mistake. Mistaken identity. You have the wrong family.”

He acted as though he didn’t hear her. “I worked for your uncle Claudio for years, may he rest in peace, and he would’ve wanted you to give me the evidence instead of Benito.”

Luke glanced at her over his shoulder, wide-eyed. She didn’t know what to say. How had she ended up in the middle of what looked to be a mafia feud?

She pursed her lips, ready to launch into another rant about it all being a mistake and how she couldn’t care less about some mysterious, fake uncle. But after two tries, she knew it’d do no good, and if she wanted to keep Luke safe, she might as well placate them. “Why would he have wanted me to give it to you?”

He waved his gun. “So I don’t have to kill you.”

THREE

Luke looked between the gunman and Gabriella, trying to make sense out of the situation. He clenched his fists and took a small step backward, trying to push Gabriella back outside, farther away from the gunman.

She worked against him, shoving herself forward so she was next to him instead of behind him. “Listen, please,” she said. “Whoever gave you the idea my mother was involved in the mafia was way off. I...I can prove it. Let me find the deed. She inherited this land—no relation to any Mirabella family member.”

Luke did a double take at the word mafia, but Gabriella avoided his gaze. This Rodrigo guy thought her mom had been part of the Mirabella mafia? That was absurd. They lived in a state with more cattle than people. Gabriella had the spunk, the dramatic flair and the Italian beauty associated with the famous crime syndicate, but she’d attended a Christian college and exhibited too much grace and kindness to ever—

She threw her hands up in the air. “And my mom worked in the sand and gravel mining business her entire life...in Idaho. That’s the opposite of this mafia lady everyone keeps saying I look like. End of story.”

Gabriella clasped her hands together. Her eyes glistened. “I told you exactly what I told Benito. You have the wrong person. I’m a Radcliffe, my mother was a Radcliffe and this is called Radcliffe Ranch. You can take anything you want in this house. Just go. Please go.”