Redeemed (Dirty Air #4)(9)

Like a bad salesman, I visit different shops trying to find out where he lives. I attempt the same awful Italian conversation in four different shops before I hit the gold mine.

“Sto circando signore Accardi.” I gesture toward the latest prop in my hands and ask about Matteo. Brooke suggested impersonating a food delivery person.

“Signore Accardi e morto.” The store owner frowns.

Accardi is dead? I laugh to myself. That’s not right. The man updated his profile picture on Facebook yesterday. I don’t know what Accardi she is referencing, but I guess it’s a popular last name here. “Morto? No. Sto circando signore Matteo Accardi.” I emphasize his first name for good measure.

Her lips form an O. She apologizes in Italian and scribbles Matteo’s address on a piece of paper.

Italian people. So kind. So trusting. The true unsung heroes of Expedition Find My Father.

I exit the store and dump the empty paper bag in a nearby trash bin. The entire walk back to my bed-and-breakfast is spent with me grinning like a madman at the townspeople.

It’s time to meet the man I’ve spent my entire life wishing for.





The screech of the car brakes pulls my attention away from my thoughts.

“Here we are.” The driver speaks in a heavy Italian accent.

My eyes slide from my lap to the car’s window. A quaint house sits at the top of a winding path, with high walls and a front gate covered in ivy. The yellow stucco walls stand out against the backdrop of the beautiful lake. It’s a house I wish I had grown up in.

I release a shaky breath and sift through the front pocket of my backpack to grab my money.

The driver accepts it with a grin. “Grazie.”

I exit the car. A quick scan of the street reveals only two houses. One belongs to Matteo and the other looks like it’s something straight out of the latest horror film. The dark mansion sits at the edge of the lake, surrounded by tall trees. Dark brick spires shoot into the sky, reminding me of a villain’s evil castle. A rotted wooden fence reveals unkempt bushes and an overgrown yard.

I turn away from the abandoned house back toward Matteo’s. “You can do this.” With legs resembling Jell-O, I walk toward the huge iron gate at the base of Matteo’s property.

Loud music plays from somewhere on his property. I stick my head through one of the gaps in the gate and check his driveway, finding multiple cars parked. Shit. Stupid me for thinking my father would be by himself.

I text Brooke to let her know I arrived at his house but he’s not alone. This moment makes me grateful that she insisted on paying the ridiculous service fee for two weeks while I got situated in Italy. I need her advice on what to do.

A car revving down the road pulls my attention away.

Do they know Matteo? Are they going to ask me what I’m doing outside, lurking by the gate? Or worse, what if they drag me inside and out me as some kind of stalker in front of Matteo? All the options would blow my chance at making a good first impression.

Logic escapes me as I panic about Matteo’s newest visitor catching me creeping outside of the property.

Maybe I wasn’t ready for this family reunion after all. My eyes flit toward the gap in the fence of the house next door. I run toward it as headlights bask the road in a glow. Branches from the bushes scrape my face and arms, but I push through the pain. Curiosity pushes me to go deeper into the property.

A howl in the distance makes me shiver. Are there wolves in Italy? “Shit. If I die tonight, I’m haunting Brooke for the rest of my life. This idea is going to hell.”

Using my phone’s flashlight, I walk through grass rivaling Africa’s Serengeti plains. I follow the stone wall dividing my father’s property from this one. My sneakers catch multiple times on thick roots, and I curse into the night.

After five minutes of avoiding fallen branches and scary-looking thorns, I make it to the part of the wall where the music sounds the loudest. Laughing and people talking forces my heart rate into overdrive. An urge to check out the other side feeds my bravery. I search the wall for any purchase to climb, but the stones are slick to the touch.

“Not even the wall could be easy?” I eye the large tree next to the fence. It looks decent enough to climb. “Just like old times, Chloe.”

My phone chiming in my hand startles me. “Shit!”

I listen for any changes in the music or conversation just in case they heard me. Nothing seems amiss, with laughter bouncing off the cement wall.

I swipe the glass to answer the call. “Brooke. You won’t believe what I’m up to right now.” After placing Brooke on speaker, I stuff my phone under my bra strap so I can hear her better while I climb.

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Well. I’m currently scaling a tree like when we snuck back into our room past curfew.” I speak low as I grab onto a close branch and prop my foot on the trunk. My arms wobble, but I push through with gritted teeth.

“You always sucked at climbing trees so this can’t be good.” She snorts.

“Don’t remind me.”

A twig snaps nearby. My arms tremble as I halt my climbing.

“But remember the time you fell on that pile of dog poop?” Brooke breaks the silence.

Ignoring the noise, I grab onto the next branch. I pull myself up a couple of feet higher off the ground. “It’s not something I can exactly forget.”