25

Rita

A driver from the Callahan family meets us at the airport. He's a big guy, burly, dark hair. Never takes off his sunglasses. "Let me know if you need anything," he says as I climb into the back seat with Scar. "Shouldn't be too long of a trip. Sit back and relax." He puts up the divider as the town car pulls out.

"Seatbelt," Scar says. I roll my eyes at him, but buckle up. He leans over toward me a few minutes into the trip, hand on my thigh. I look at him, surprised. His lips brush against my cheek and I instinctively move to push him away, about to ask him what the hell he's doing, but he holds me back. "We're in character, wife," he whispers in my ear. "Don't assume they're not listening. From here on out, even if we're alone, we're not alone."

I take a deep breath. Right, we're in enemy territory now.

I reach up and stroke my fingers through his thick hair. I smile at the way his gaze sharpens, unable to help the thrill that runs down my spine. I love when I make him look at