Demi (The Italian Cartel Book 6) by Shandi Boyes

Author:Shandi Boyes [Boyes, Shandi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-03-01T18:30:00+00:00

9

Demi

I drift my eyes to Maddox when he says, “Don’t be nervous.”

He can say that because he’s returning to the land of the living after taking a ‘breather’ for four days.

I’m resurrecting from the dead.

That isn’t the cause of my panic, though. It’s striving to work out how the Walshs will react when they discover Maddox’s disappearance is my fault.

I love the Walshs. I’ve strived to emulate their family dynamic for years in everything I do, but I don’t see them being overly obliging about me intruding on their reunion.

I’m an outsider.

An outcast.

Even more so now since Sloane has decided to study abroad for the last two years of her studies. I understand where her decision stems from, I just wish it could have been wholly her choice. No one should be scared out of their home. My family home was bland and uninviting, but if I had the choice, I would have stayed there for a lifetime.

Forever on alert when it comes to my teetering emotions, Maddox curls his hand around mine before giving it a gentle squeeze. “You ready?”

I peer at him, smiling when I notice his eyes. Although swollen and bruised from Dimitri’s beat down, they don’t have the slightest bit of green to them. This is his home, and he’s ecstatic I am here with him. The knowledge settles my nerves in an instant.

“I’m ready,” I reply with a brisk nod.

With his spare hand, he drags his index finger down my nose before he lowers the handle on the front door of his childhood home. It’s almost midnight, however, the late hour doesn’t detract from the familiar sound of a police radio booming into my ears when we enter the elaborate foyer. Just the entrance of the Walsh family residence is bigger than the living room of my childhood home. It’s decorated as if Mrs. Walsh is an interior designer, not an architect for a massive firm that does everything from skyscrapers in New York to environmental landscapes in the Bahamas.

“We’re doing everything we can, Mrs. Walsh, but you must understand, Maddox’s text has officers apprehensive that this is a missing person case,” cautions a female voice that’s laced with apprehension. Her tone alone advises she doesn’t believe Maddox will return anytime soon, and I’m not the only one who notices.

“His bank accounts haven’t been touched in days. His motorbike was last seen in a region of the state no one in our family has heard about. My boy wouldn’t just up and vanish like this.”

Mr. Walsh’s crackling voice breaks my heart. He is the reason the Walsh brethren is so protective of those they love. He is the commander of their realm. He doesn’t rule with cruel, undermining tactics like my tyrant of an uncle does, though. He nurtures his children when needed and wallops them up the back of the head when they step out of line.

“He’s hurting, which means he needs his family more than anything.”

Hearing the fret in his father’s voice as readily as me, Maddox coughs, wordlessly announcing our arrival.

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