The Brit

“Rose,” Danny calls, and I glance up to see him at a set of doors in the distance, gesturing for me to come. I push myself up and head his way, a few butterflies lapping my tummy. Has he introduced a woman to his family before? I smile to myself, knowing the answer.

When I reach him, he encases my head in his hands and directs it down so I’m staring at his shoes. He pushes his lips to the top of my head. “I love you,” he says into my hair, reinforcing his words with a borderline uncomfortable pressure on my temples. He kisses me again, breathing through it. “Rose, this is Uncle Ernie.” Danny releases his hold and turns me as I lift my eyes from the floor, my mouth stretching into a friendly smile, ready to say hello. I make it halfway up a broad chest and see an empty Scotch glass wrapped in old, wrinkled, fat fingers. I frown when my blood turns to ice, an odd feeling of unease rippling through me. I try to shake it off. I can’t. And when I look up and find his face, I realize why.

The ground disappears from beneath my feet.

My heart tumbles and rolls in my chest.

I step back into Danny on an irrepressible snag of breath, my heartbeat going from zero to sixty in one, overpowering and painful thump.

“Rose?” Danny’s arm slips around my waist and presses my back to his front, his torso absorbing my quivers.

“I’m sorry.” I shake my head mildly, yelling at myself to pull it together. “Too much wine too quickly,” I mumble mindlessly, staring at the face that’s haunted my dreams for years. I jolt once again, trying to pass it off as a wobble. Danny’s uncle smiles. It’s oozing malice. He recognizes me. In fact, he doesn’t seem at all surprised to see me. I swallow down the bile in my throat repeatedly.

He ripped my baby from my arms. He callously gave me away when I was of no use to him anymore. I’ve been in living hell for the past ten years because of this debauched heathen.

My gut twists.

My head bangs.

My eyes sting.

Danny’s family?

“Rose,” Ernie chirps, extending his arms out to me. He captures me in his hold and hugs me to his chest, suffocating me. “Breathe one word and they’re dead,” he whispers in my ear. “My nephew and your son.”

Panic immobilizes me, my brain spasms. Releasing me from his depraved clutches, he regards me carefully. “You must be pretty special for my nephew to bring you here.”

I can only blink, stunned into silence.

“She is,” Danny confirms, reclaiming me and slipping his hand onto the small of my back. “Which is why I wanted you to meet her.”

“It’s a pleasure, Rose.” Ernie smiles, this time less wickedly. “Come, let’s eat.” He motions us to the dining room, and I glance up as I’m guided by Danny’s palm. Breathe a word and they’re dead. There are two men in the hallway. I saw two at the gate, and two more on the drive up to the house. I’ve no doubt there are more around, all here to protect him. But Danny said his dad supplied security. That Ernie was only in danger by association.

Ernie goes to a huge globe and lifts the lid, revealing a mass of bottles and an ice bucket. He plops two cubes in his glass.

“Where’s Brad and Ringo?” I ask Danny quietly, forcing curiosity to mask my panic.

“They’ve gone to get something to eat.”

Fear layers the dread as Danny helps me down to a chair. “I thought you never go anywhere without them.”

He smiles at me, laying my napkin across my lap like a true gentleman. “I’m at my uncle’s house. I think we’re good.” He motions to the armed men outside the dining room.

We’re good? We’re far from good. “Danny—”

“More wine, Rose?” Ernie asks, as if he senses my natural instinct to blurt out who he is. “Or would water be better?”

“Water, please.” I swallow, ignoring Danny’s inquisitive look pointing at my profile as he takes his chair. A maid pours for me, and I take my first sip with shaky hands, my eyes rooted to the glass.

“Tell me how you two met?” Ernie says casually, just making conversation.

I look at Danny, my mind blank. My dry mouth won’t allow me to talk, even if I had the words to say. Not that Ernie needs them. He knows exactly how Danny and I met. What’s going on? “Rose was my lucky charm in a game of poker,” Danny speaks up, reaching for my hand and squeezing. “We met in Vegas.”

Ernie’s bark of laughter has me jumping in my chair. I’m skittish, hot, and sweaty. “You can’t play cards for shit.”

“Shut up, old man.”

My shock and fear are getting out of control. I need to compose myself before I blurt out across the table what I know and get us both killed. Love’s made me weak. How could I let this happen? I’d usually laugh in the face of threats. Contain my misery and fear.