30
Stefan
“You love me like a fucking brother, but I have to fight my fucking way in?” Rafa roars. He stumbles when he comes toward me.
I catch him, right him, uncock my gun, and shove it into the back waistband of my jeans.
“What are you doing here, Rafa?”
He looks at me, looks beyond me and into the study.
Gabriela steps beside me and I watch his gaze follow her.
“I wanted a drink,” Rafa says finally.
“Looks to me like you’ve had plenty to drink already. Give me that.” I gesture to the pistol in his hand.
He looks down at it like he forgot it was there. A moment later, he shoves it into the back of his jeans and walks past me into the study. He pours himself two fingers of whiskey and swallows it at once before refilling his glass and dropping down into a seat on the couch. His movement is so clumsy that some of the whiskey splashes over his hand.
“Go upstairs, Gabriela,” I tell her without turning around.
“Not until I know my bro—”
“Now.” I look at her and give a subtle shake of my head.
She looks from me to Rafa.
“I said go. Now,” I repeat.
“Let her stay,” Rafa says.
I turn to him. “Give me your gun, Rafa.”
“Why? What do you think I’m going to do?”
“You’re drunk. You just barged into my house drunk and brandishing a gun.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Give me your gun. I won’t ask again.”
He stands, reaches back.
I step in front of Gabriela and I’m pretty sure he notices because he gives a shake of his head, pulls the gun out of its place and sets it on the corner of my desk. I pick it up, take the cartridge out and shove it in my pocket.
“Satisfied?” he asks.
“Why are you here?”
“Because Clara snores,” he says with a chuckle as he downs his next glass of whiskey. “But you know that.”
I don’t turn to Gabriela but wait for Rafa to pour himself yet another glass before facing me.
He studies me, then Gabriela. He cocks his head to the side as he sips his drink.
I shift my gaze to Gabriela. “Go upstairs,” I tell her again.
“I said let her stay,” Rafa intervenes.
“But you don’t give the orders,” I remind him.
“Maybe I should,” he counters, taking a step toward me.
I take one to match his. “Be careful, cousin.”
He snorts, looks again to Gabriela, lets his gaze roam over her.
“That’s my wife,” I remind him.
“You used to be more generous.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Rafa meets my gaze head on. “It means you used to share.” He shifts his gaze to her and when he takes a step toward her, something primitive inside me takes over. Rage boils in my gut.
Mine.
It’s the single thought in my mind.
“You’re getting soft, Stef,” Rafa says. “She’s making you soft. Weak.” He lifts his hand and I make fists with mine as my entire body vibrates with energy.
When he runs the backs of his knuckles over her cheek, Gabriela’s arm comes flying to slap his face, but he catches her wrist in the same instant I catch his.
“Remove. Your. Hand.” My voice is low, calm, opposite the rage burning inside me.
“You should share her,” Rafa says.
“And you should know better.”
But he’s drunk.
“Like we used to. Then we’ll be like brothers again.”
“Remove your hand or I’ll break it.”
Rafa looks at me, searches my face and something overrides his drunken, reckless stupidity because he lets her go. “No doubt,” he says.
I see his handprint on her soft flesh, see how small her wrist is, know how easily it can be broken. How easily men like us can break her.
“Lucas.” I haven’t yet let go of Rafa’s arm and I don’t raise my voice because Lucas is standing just outside the door.
“Sir.” He’s got his eyes on Rafa, one hand on the butt of his pistol in its holster underneath his jacket.
“Take my wife upstairs and make sure she stays there.”
“I don’t want—”
I turn to Gabriela. “I don’t care what you want. Take your phone and make that call while I talk with my cousin.”
“Mrs. Sabbioni,” Lucas says, standing beside us.
Gabriela gives Rafa one more hard look, grabs her phone and exits the room.
Lucas closes the door.
After a moment, I release Rafa.
“Fuck,” he mutters, walking away, dropping again into a seat on the sofa and running fingers through his messy hair.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I ask. I should kill him. Here and now. What I saw on that drive is all the evidence I need of his betrayal. But I can’t do it. I can’t. “What is going on with you? I could kill you, you know that?”
“It’s all going to hell, Stefan. Has been ever since you brought her here.”
“Gabriela has nothing to do with whatever’s going on with you. Now tell me what it is before I lose my temper.”
“And what? Break my arms? My legs?”
“You took her to her father. To my enemy. I’d be in my right to do both of those things.”
He grits his teeth, lifting his head, then turning it away. “You don’t understand.”
“Then explain to me why you lied to me. Why you took my wife to my enemy. To her enemy. And have no doubt he is that.”
“He’s her father, Stefan.”
“And?”
“Family’s important. You’ve always taken your father for granted.” His words are slurred and slow, like it’s taking effort to string them together.
“My father is dead because of that man. My brother is dead because of that man. Gabriela’s mother is dead because of that man and her brother, well, you know well enough about him.”
He drops his head, shakes it. “I need another drink.” When he stands, I grab his arm to stop him.
“You’ve had enough.”
“Not enough,” he doesn’t fight me, though. The opposite, at least momentarily before he gets a strange second wind. “You know what I wish, Stefan?”
When he pauses, I wait, noting the crazed look in his eyes. The look of a desperate man. Of one who’s run out of options.
“I wish things could go back to the way they were. The way we were.”
“Then be the man you were. Be my brother. Not my enemy.”
“I am your brother. I’ll always be that.” He seems more steady on his feet as he walks to the liquor cabinet and pours himself another whiskey. He remains standing. “Do you know why my father hates me?”
“He doesn’t hate you.”
“Yeah, he does. You don’t have to pretend. But do you know why?”
I go to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Rafa—”
He knocks my hand off. “Do you fucking know?” he snaps, his tone biting. Like he, too, is raging.
“Why don’t you tell me since it seems like you know.”
He shakes his head. “They’re divided, Stefan. The family. Right down the middle. Well, almost.”
He means the supporting families, cousins from different regions of Sicily. My uncle in Rome, he’s the only one I trust fully. “That’s nothing new. It’s been that way since Antonio’s betrayal.”
“Some don’t believe you have the right to rule.”
“Is your father leading that thinking?” I shouldn’t do it, I know. I shouldn’t bait him. I can’t talk to him now. Like this. I need him sober.
He smirks, swallows more whiskey. “It should have been Antonio.”
“Antonio’s dead.”
“He’s also a traitor yet you buried his body beside the man he betrayed.”
“And you
“In our family, conscience isn’t a redeeming quality. The opposite.” He picks up the bottle and drinks straight from it.
Rafa and I are the only two who know why Antonio betrayed our father. Although maybe that’s not true anymore. Would the cousins have supported my father if they knew why he partnered with Marchese? If they knew that he was adding flesh trade to the family’s resume?
Rafa’s right about conscience. Antonio had too much of it. He found out about the deal. Knew my father’s role in it. He tried to stop him, but it was too late. The women had been supplied. In the container already. On their way.
Knowing my brother, no way he could stomach being part of that. Allowing it to happen at all. That’s when he went to the feds. That’s when he was taken into protective custody and my father arrested. I guess he thought he could save those women and girls.
But they didn’t have anything on Marchese because Marchese got rid of the container.
This is what Gabriela doesn’t know. What I don’t want her to know about her father.
He had it dropped off the ship. A phone call was all it took, and the captain did as he was told and dropped the container and those people vanished. No evidence. No bodies. No crime. Just a container at the bottom of the ocean.
Unless my father talked. Unless he shared his evidence.
So Marchese took care of that.
He didn’t do a thorough enough job searching for the evidence though and it’s in my possession now. It’s what got him to hand over his daughter. Funny what hearing yourself give the order to kill a dozen women and girls sounds like when it’s played back.
But I didn’t find it before he found Antonio. And he took care of him too. No loose ends. I do understand that.
“Tell me what you did, Rafa,” I ask, forcing myself into the present.
He looks at me and I hate what I see in his eyes.
“You know what I think?” he asks, avoiding my question, stumbling when he takes a step away. With the bottle in his unsteady hand, he points a finger at me. “I personally think you should rule. But it’s not up to me. I’m like her. A fucking pawn. That’s why I helped her. That’s why I hid her brother when she asked me to. And now I’m here to warn you because that’s how fucked up I am.”
“Warn me about what?”
He drinks the last of the bottle. “Antonio wasn’t like us. He wasn’t ruthless. And it got him killed. If you want to survive in our world, you have to be ruthless. You can’t have any weakness. You should send her away. It’s best for her and you know it.”
“Warn me about what?” I double back.
He looks at me, scrubs his face with both hands. “I’m tired, man.”
I go to him, take him by the shoulders. “Warn me about what, Rafa?”
He studies me, and I think for a moment maybe I’m mistaken. Maybe he’s not as drunk as I thought.
“I’m a traitor too, Stefan. Can’t seem to make up my fucking mind which side I’m on.”
I grit my teeth, give him a shake. “Rafa. Warn me about what?”
He shoves my arms away, sits down on the sofa, lays his head back. “The other families.” He stares up at the ceiling. “You were right about my father. And I helped him.”
I watch him, hear him.
He sets his elbows on his knees and leans into his hands, rubs his face.
“Helped him how?”
“Gabriela. The kidnapping. They would have raped—”
“I will kill you!” I roar, tugging him to his feet.
“You should,” he says. He doesn’t fight me. Puts up no resistance at all. And when I release him, he falls back onto the couch.
“I never wanted her hurt. You should let her go before they decide.”
“Before who decides what?” I’m losing my patience.
He stands, shakes his head, shoves past me to the door. “I shouldn’t be here.”
I stop him, shove him into the wall. “Before. Who. Decides. What?”
“It’s too late, Stefan. I came too late. Decided too fucking late. Don’t you see? They’re meeting now. My father has their support. He called for a vote.”
Rage.
“Where?”
“They’ll kill you if you go. You should take Gabriela. Take what you can. Disappear.”
“I’m not a fucking coward and I have no plan to disappear. Are they meeting in Taormina?”
He shakes his head. “Catania. At the warehouse.”
I look at him, shake my head, let him go and open the door. “Lucas!”
Lucas is at the door a moment later. “Get men together. We’re going to Catania.”
“Now?”
“Fucking now.” I turn to Rafa. “My cousin will be staying here until I return.”
With a signal, two soldiers enter the study as I walk out.
“Stefan!” Rafa calls out.
I don’t stop. I don’t look back.
“They’ll kill you if you walk in there. Don’t be fucking stupid.”
I stop, walk back into the study to find the two soldiers restraining Rafa. Without a moment’s hesitation, I draw my arm back and punch him across the jaw.
“Thanks for the warning,” I say, feeling the sting of the hit as I watch his split lip bleed. “We’ll talk when I’m back. I’ll decide how you die then.”
31
Gabriela
“Stefan?” I call out from the top of the stairs. The soldier Lucas assigned to keep me in my room unhands me on Stefan’s signal and I run down the stairs. “What’s happening? Where’s Rafa?”
He takes my arms and studies me for a long moment. “I need to go to Catania.”
“Now? It’s late.”
“Did you talk to your brother?”
I shake my head. “He was asleep, but I talked to Melanie. They’re fine. Safe. In a house upstate.”
“Good. Go pack what you need. You’ll go to them. Tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“I’ll make some calls on my way to Taormina and Paulo will be in touch with you soon.”
“Paulo?”
“Just a back-up plan, Gabriela. Until everything’s settled.”
I feel the color drain from my face. “You mean you may not come back.” I don’t ask it as a question.
He looks at me like he’s memorizing me, and I touch his face, pull him to me.
“Come with me, Stefan.” I hug him tight, but I can’t get close enough. I feel him slipping away. Slipping right through my fingers.
“I need to go,” he says.
When he pulls back, he cups my face, wipes tears with his thumbs.
“Don’t leave me alone, Stefan.”
His hands tighten a little and his eyes are intense. On fire. “I have no intention of leaving you alone. I love you, Gabriela. There’s nothing more precious to me than you. I love you.”
I have no words. I can’t find them. I just feel all the emotion bubbling up in my throat and he must see it because he hugs me to him, and I’m desperate to hold on to him. Desperate to keep him. To never let him go.
“Paulo will take care of everything until I’m back. You’re to trust him. Only him.”
“Please don’t go. Just don’t. Come with me.”
He pulls back. “I can’t do that. Get what you need. Just what you need. But hurry.” He breaks free, signals to a soldier who takes my arms and holds me back as Stefan walks away.
“Stefan!”
“I won’t leave you alone,” he says, giving me one more long look. “I promise.”
But he’s promised before.
He’s sworn.
32
Stefan
I call Paulo and make arrangements for Gabriela as we drive to the warehouse in Catania. He’ll move her brother, the nurse and Gabriela to a secret location and, if things don’t go as planned for me, he’ll make sure she’s taken care of.
Francesco Catalano called a vote. But there’s nothing to vote on. I’m Antonio Sabbioni’s second son. By blood, taking over the family is my right.
Catalano himself isn’t blood. They won’t accept him as a leader.
The men he’ll meet with are blood, but distant. No clear man in line to rule. Cousins would have to battle cousins. The closest would be Rafa and that link is not through my father.
I go over my conversation with Rafa, taking into consideration the fact that he was drunk. He never did tell me why he thinks his father hates him. He called himself a pawn. Did Catalano use him to spy on me, to betray me, with the promise of his affection? Would Rafa really fall for that? Want that?
I knew the family would not take kindly to my putting Antonio’s body in the family plot. He was a traitor, it’s true. But I don’t regret what I did. He was still my brother.
This Marchese vendetta, it’s taken my focus from the family to personal vengeance. In their eyes, I should have killed Gabriel Marchese long ago. No need to take his daughter like I did. Except that in addition to the vengeance I am owed, it would grow our territory in New York, just like my father had intended. He’d just gone about it the wrong way. What he’d agreed to I wouldn’t. Ever.
I realize Gabriela hasn’t asked me what I have on her father since I first took her. I understand why she doesn’t. She knows it’s bad. One can only tolerate so much truth.
But it’s not time to think about this. Think about her. If I’m distracted, I’ll fail. And if I fail, then I won’t be able to keep my promise to her. And I have no intention of breaking any more promises where she’s concerned.
The drive to Catania is shorter than that to Taormina. I have two dozen men with me. I hope not to need them. They don’t expect me to come, but still.
“I’m a traitor too, Stefan. Can’t seem to make up my fucking mind which side I’m on.”
That’s the thing that worries me. Which side is Rafa on because taking a vote would be moot if I were dead.
I think about the other thing he said about being a pawn. To his father, I assume. Does Catalano think the families would accept Rafa as their ruler? He’s a stupid fuck if he does. Blood matters. It matters the most.
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