Page 9 of Body of Trust

“I’m fine.” He sits up, and I’m relieved.

“You did it!” I cheer. I have no idea where this new path leads, but it feels like a small victory in this aimless escape plan we’re on.

His chest puffs with heavy breaths. “Keep going.”

I nod and take his phone with me as I climb feetfirst through the opening.

Jesse is diligent at covering our tracks, putting the grate back in place behind us. When it’s secured, he stands up straight and stretches his arms up over his head, arching his back with the motion. We’re now in a large tunnel, big enough for a small car to drive through.

He holds his hand up to his face, and I realize I’m flashing the light right in his eyes.

“Sorry.” I move the direction of the light. “Where do we go now?”

He points straight ahead. “Only one way.”

I look around and realize he’s right. “Is now a good time for me to ask if you know where we’re going?”

With his hands on his hips, he looks over at me and smiles. “Yes, Amelia, I know where we’re going.”

His skin is glistening from sweat, and his eyes are piercing. Yes, I know this is hardly the time to appreciate how handsome he is, but I just had a near-death experience. I’m sure this is some crazy side effect. A defense mechanism from thinking about the reality at hand.

“My family!” I shout as said reality comes plummeting to the front of my brain. “I need to call them.” I look down at his phone and see there’s no service. A heavy weight sits in my belly. “What if my mother and sister arrived when they …” My voice trails off, as I can’t finish the thought. My stomach drops, leaving a hollow pit.

Jesse walks toward me. His hands are on my arms, rubbing affectionately, as his gaze lowers to meet mine. “They’re okay. Knowing them, they’re still home. Your sister always arrives an hour late to any of your family dinners.”

I relax slightly at his correct assessment. “My father?”

He shakes his head with a shrug. “I have no idea, but I do know that Raphael Sorrentino is a smart man. As are your uncles. They’re armed, and they have security.”

“Who were those men? Why would they want to kill anyone?”

“They came for your uncle Frankie.” He takes a pause before adding, “And your father.”

“What makes you think that?”

The way his eyes look up toward the cavernous ceiling as he takes a deep breath lets me know he’s privy to information I’m not.

“Amelia,” he starts and then stops, as if he heard something.

We still and wait in silence. I don’t hear anything, but I stand stiff and listen.

He places his hand in mine. “We need to keep going.”

The tunnel is long and dark, but after the small space we just crawled through, I’m not as nervous. Plus, there’s something about Jesse—his voice, his touch, his commanding presence—that puts me at ease.

The tunnel splits, and we take the path on the right.

“How did you know this was here?” I ask when we’re a good distance away from the grate and the noises that seemed to plague Jesse.

“Would you believe me if I said I was interested in underground topography?”

I shake my head. “No.”

His hand tightens on mine. It’s callused in a way that surprises me. For a bartender, I expected his hands to be smooth, and yet the rough edges make me feel protected.

“These tunnels were built in the ’20s, back when bootleggers had parties and needed to escape the police raids. The mob expanded on them in the ’60s when they built their mansions on top as a way to avoid arrests. These tunnels are secret passages to homes, which is how I knew there was one at Villa Russo. They also use them to smuggle drugs and weapons.”

“Used to,” I correct him.