Twins for the Mafia Heir (The Warwicks #3)

39. Emma

Chapter 39

Emma

W hen I tell Thomas I have to take off halfway around the world to see if the potential love of my life will take me back, tell him I’m having twins and see if he wants to be a part of their lives, he surprises me by offering the use of his own private jet. Paul and I eventually decide against it, though. We might be flying into Edinburgh instead of London, but it would be wise to maintain as low a profile as possible. I’m half afraid that if Achilles knows I’m coming, he’ll disappear.

After studying maps of Edinburgh until my eyes cross, I’ve retraced my best memory of the path I took with Achilles through the city that night. I’m as sure as I can be that I know where his safe house is. Paul and I pack light, and just before we leave the estate, I slip my wedding ring back onto my finger. Now, I feel like I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

My third transatlantic flight is probably the least stressful yet, but unfortunately that’s a pretty low bar. I’m a bundle of nerves, and the slightest smell of the cabin seems to churn my stomach. Paul admits he’s not fond of flying either, so he indulges in some sleeping pills while I cling to ginger lozenges and nilla wafers, praying they’re enough to keep everything down. I have to close my eyes whenever the plane hits turbulence, taking deep breaths to steady myself. We start to drift off while watching a ridiculous buddy cop comedy on Paul’s tablet. I dream that Achilles and I are chasing each other on scooters around and around a light pole in the streets of Edinburgh. When I wake up, the plane is touching down.

As our cab takes us through more and more familiar roads bathed in the golden glow of sunrise, Paul strikes up a boisterous conversation with the driver about the best tourist spots in the city. I watch every street sign that passes, my heart racing so erratically I think I’ll die before we make it. Is this really the right way? Did I remember every turn, or are we going to be stuck driving in circles through Edinburgh forever, just like in my dream?

Too soon, I realize we’re turning down the residential road that leads to the safe house. I almost shout when I see the place, but manage to hold my breath and stay in my seat until the car comes to a full stop. Paul thanks and pays the cabbie generously while I stumble out onto the sidewalk, my eyes glued to the house.

It’s so much smaller and… darker than I remember.

There’s dread in my stomach, and it’s not just anxiety from possibly seeing Achilles again. Something’s wrong. I don’t know what, but I know it is.

I forget the speech I had prepared in my head as I walk up the stairs toward the front door. I almost forget the code knock too, but remember just in time. Paul stands back on the sidewalk, keeping a careful distance to appear non-threatening. Holding my breath, I wait, every nerve on edge. Eyes inside the house assess me through the peephole, silently judging, giving me no chance to explain.

Locks turn inside, and the door eases open a crack. I was so tensed up to see Achilles again that when I see Piers instead, I almost collapse.

“Well, would you look at that,” Piers says, pulling the door open a bit wider. His brows lift, green eyes giving me a once-over from head to toe. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again, Miss… Not-Raleigh.”

I swallow, my stomach flopping around like a fish. How much did Achilles tell him? How much did he keep to himself? “Is Achilles here? I need to talk to him.”

Piers doesn’t answer right away, his eyes shifting to Paul, eyeing him with more wariness than he showed me. “Who’s this bloke, then?” he asks.

“My friend, Paul,” I say. “He’s…” I blush a little. “He’s my emotional support.”

Piers blinks slowly at me, bemused. “So, you really came all this way to patch things up with your pretend husband?”

My throat is so tight I can’t answer with words. I only nod. Piers heaves a sigh, but steps aside.

“Best come in, then. Him too.”

“Achilles-”

“He’s not here,” Piers cuts in, but his tone softens. “Come on, we’ll have a natter inside.”

Achilles isn’t here.

According to Piers, I’ve missed him by almost two weeks. Worse, he says Achilles only meant to go into London for a short intelligence-gathering mission.

“That’s what he reckoned, anyhow,” Piers says, passing out steaming mugs of tea around the dining room table. I clasp mine to warm my hands, but the chill inside me goes deeper than bone. “I’m beginning to think he planned to take on Fantasia himself all along, just wanted me out of the way so Sidony could stay put in Edinburgh, where she’s safe.”

He glares into his dark, amber tea. “Next time I see him, I swear, I’ll wring his bloody neck- mark my words.”

“There’s been no contact?” I ask desperately. “Nothing at all for two weeks?”

Piers shakes his head. “And there’s no dragging the lass back to London without a clue as to what’s going on. I’m stuck here, exactly as he intended.”

I look over at Paul, who’s sipping grimly at his tea. He wrinkles his nose at me. “If he’s captured, he’ll probably be in Wesley Hall, right? The place we said we wouldn’t go ?”

I nod, my beleaguered stomach sinking. “But if he’s holed up, he could be anywhere.” I turn back to Piers. “Fantasia isn’t looking for us. She doesn’t know Paul, and I’ll be in disguise. We’ll take a look around. Do you have a safe way for us to contact you?”

Piers shakes his head. “Only if you’ve got the knock, and we’re face to face. Once you leave, you’re well and truly on your own.”

The light in the house is still hazy with sleep as Paul and I leave. I pause outside the door of the den, desperate to pop in on Sidony and make sure with my own eyes that she’s safe. But I don’t know what Achilles has told her about me. If I wake her up only to frighten her, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.