good shake.
There was no use having a shit ton of cash and documents in a safe if there was nowhere to put them in a pinch. And there was no way I could fit a thousand bucks in my bra.
I took the rolls of cash and dropped them in the bottom of the bag, then slid in the brown manila envelope. It had drivers licenses, birth certificates, and passports for both me and Darien. If we ever needed them, I'd be Penelope Dawson and he'd be my father, Andrew Dawson.
Satisfied I had some kind of safeguarding, I shut the safe and replaced the picture before grabbing the bag and taking it into my room. I packed nothing but the basics, then went to the laundry room and did the same for Darien.
The second safe was hidden in here. One of many. Mamma was never paranoid, but she was always aware of the fact that my father would find us one day, so she insisted on being prepared.
In that moment, as I climbed on top of the dryer to get to the cupboard, I was thankful for it.
I opened the cupboard and removed the dud box of soap. It was full of sand to give the impression that it was new, and once upon a time, I'd laughed when she'd done it. “Who'd hide a safe in a laundry room cupboard?” I'd asked her, and she'd responded with a wink and an, “Exactly.”
My lips twitched into a sad smile at the memory, and I paused for a moment. Sometimes, I missed her badly. Times like this was one of them. I wanted nothing more than her to walk in here, roll up her sleeves, and take control.
But she couldn't. She never would again. So it was down to me.
I opened the safe and pulled out the loaded 9mm pistol.
This wasn't paranoia.
I double-checked the barrel. Yep—loaded. Enough to kill if I had to.
This was preparation.
I closed the safe, replaced the soap, and jumped down from the dryer. I wrapped the gun in one of my shirts in the bag and zipped it up.
There. Now I felt like I was prepared.
Well. I looked down at my bare feet. Almost prepared. I wouldn't get very far without any shoes.
I carried the bag back through to my room, put on some shoes, and then went back into the kitchen. Darien didn't look like he'd moved—he was still leaning against the island, his eyes fixed on the hallway. He had a tiny smile teasing the corners of his mouth, and his eyes glimmered when they met mine.
“There.” I put the bag on the countertop in front of him. “Clothes, money, documents, gun. If Isaiah tries to kill me, I can run.”
“And if he tries and he hits you?”
I shrugged. “Then I die.”
He paused for a moment before he smiled softly. “You're just like your mamma.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out, because I didn't know what to say. I didn't think I was. Mamma was brave and in control. She was strong and fought for what she believed in, no matter what the consequences were. She'd argued many corners that should have cost her her life.
“Maybe your idea about killing Enzio isn't so crazy after all,” Darien added, pushing off the island as three knocks sounded at the door. He disappeared before I could say anything then, too.
Ironically, I was starting to wonder if it was crazy. But then again, he was sending the fight to me...
“Well fuck me. Alexandria, you haven't aged a bit.”
I knew the voice.
I turned my head slowly toward the door. My eyes fell on Isaiah. Like Darien, he didn't look like he was in his fifties. He looked closer to thirty, and the only hint of his age was in the small lines at the corners of his eyes, and the silvery wisps of hair above his ears.
“You know damn well I'm not Alexandria, Isaiah,” I said slowly, watching him as he walked toward me. “So cut the bullshit.”
He grinned. It was an easy grin that spread across his face. “I know. I just like fuckin' with ya, Adriana. Look exactly like her, and it doesn't get much better than that.”
My tongue ran over my bottom lip. “What are you doing here? Finishing Hunter's job?”
“Why? You ordered him to kill your father, Princess? Because if so, sign me the fuck up.” He slapped his hand against the kitchen island. “That dumb fuck.”
“Give it a goddamn rest with