Secrets of Bella Terra

by Christina Dodd

  She shook her head, and winced. “No. Ski mask. But definitely a big man, white, tall, fit, young. Of course, at my age I think everyone’s young.”

  “At your height, you think everyone’s tall, too,” Eli said.

  “Eliseo, come over here so I can swat you.” But Sarah was smiling again, and when Eli leaned over the other side of the bed, she gave him a mocking sock to the chin.

  “Good point, Eli. Was he as tall as me, Nonna?” Rafe asked.

  “No.” She sighed. “I’d say six-foot or a little below.”

  “Oh, good. That narrows it down to about five thousand guys here in Bella Terra.” Rafe smiled his crooked smile.

  Brooke told herself that when he smiled like that, he looked like Novocain was working on one side of his mouth.

  But that wasn’t true. Instead, in his jeans and black leather jacket, he resembled a tough, half-amused, world-weary Gerard Butler. She’d seen that expression work magic on women from around the world. She’d felt the impact herself.

  She felt it now, and it wasn’t even aimed at her.

  “The police said the burglar might be a vagrant,” Noah said.

  “Everybody always wants to think it’s a vagrant rather than someone who lives in their nice little town.” Rafe’s cynicism grated on Brooke’s nerves.

  And on Sarah’s, for she stirred restlessly, and winced.

  He turned to her right away. “Don’t worry, Nonna. We’ll keep you safe. No one’s going to hurt you again.”

  At once, Sarah recognized her chance to get her way. “At home. Promise me I can stay at my home.”

  The brothers exchanged exasperated, helpless glances.

  “Nonna, it would be so much easier if you’d stay at the resort,” Noah said.

  “Or with me. You know you love my house.” Eli had finished his new home on Gunfighter Ridge overlooking the glimmer of Bella Creek. “I’ve got a guest cottage. You can be alone as much as you like.”

  “In my own house,” Sarah said stubbornly, but her voice trembled and a single tear slid down the soft wrinkled cheek.

  Sarah never cried, and that one tear broke the guys.

  “I’ll keep you safe in your house,” Rafe promised.

  “I know. I trust you.” She smiled, but her lips trembled. “I’m not afraid for myself. But if something happened to one of my boys, I couldn’t live with myself.”

  Real amusement lit Rafe’s face. “I’ll take care of my feeble brothers.”

  “Yeah, Nonna, Rafe’ll take care of us.” Eli used sarcasm like a weapon. “Nothing can happen to him. As long as the mugger hits him on the head, Rafe’ll be fine.”

  “They have knives. They have guns,” Sarah said fretfully. “Even after all these years, he’s so angry. . . .”

  Brooke came slowly to her feet.

  The brothers all leaned forward, intent on their grandmother’s face.

  “Who, Nonna?” Rafe’s voice was the soft rasp of velvet. “Who are you afraid of?”

  “What?” Sarah looked puzzled. “I’m not afraid of anybody. I just want you to be careful.”

  The brothers exchanged glances, and nodded. Brooke could almost see the communication between them—Later.

  “I’m going to have to have someone stay with you,” Rafe said firmly.

  “Someone’s going to have to stay with her anyway,” Noah said. “That concussion—”

  Sarah broke in. “The arm hurts worse than anything.”

  “I’ll take care of security for you, Nonna. I need to talk to someone who knows a lot of people, and for that, Brooke will help me. Won’t you, Brooke?” For the first time, he turned his head, the deliberate motion of a predator viewing its prey.

  Of course. The man was in the security business. He cased a room as soon as he walked in.

  He had always known she was there. He had known she was observing him. And the iciness in his eyes made her want to cower.

  But she didn’t. She knew men like him, men who stayed at the resort for rest and relaxation, who carried with them a chill that froze the marrow in her bones. It was her policy to never, ever let them know how much they scared her.

  And Rafe scared her more than any of them.

  Because no matter how much she hated it, he still made her want him.

  Chapter 3

  Brooke walked to the bedside and did the one thing the guys were afraid to do—she stroked Sarah’s head, smiled into her eyes. “I’m going to help Rafe find the person who did this, and bring him to justice. You know I can do it, too.”

  Sarah relaxed and looked like the Sarah they all knew: kind, happy, optimistic. She smiled back at Brooke. “I know. I have absolute faith in you.” She turned to Rafe. “You, too, dear. All of you boys are so good to me. The best children . . . I don’t deserve you. . . .” Tears welled again.

  Brooke turned on the grandsons. “Sarah’s had enough. Why don’t we leave her alone so she can rest?”

  It wasn’t really a suggestion, but an order, and the guys weren’t about to argue. They had those looks on their faces, the panicked expressions men got when they recognized the onset of a tearful storm.

  They nodded, backed toward the door, and exited in a rush.

  Brooke leaned over the bed and pushed the call button. “We’ll ask the nurse for your pain medication.”

  With her good hand, Sarah caught Brooke’s arm. “It’s my fault you have to do this. I’m sorry.”

  “You mean work with Rafe?” Brooke smiled and shook her head. “What happened, happened a lot of years ago. It’s not important anymore. And anyway, it’s no more your fault for getting hit than it’s mine for becoming the resort concierge. Neither one of us could foresee these kinds of events, could we?”

  Sarah’s eyes went out of focus, dreamy and sad. “Not foresee, but I always thought . . . feared . . . it wasn’t over.”

  Brooke hit the call button again, harder. “What do you mean? What wasn’t over?”

  “The feuds drag on and on, one generation to the next. . . .” Sarah’s sad voice petered out.

  “Nonna?” Brooke leaned close to see if she was breathing.

  The nurse, Kayla Garcia—she and Brooke had gone to high school together—huffed as she came through the door. “I came as quickly as I could. What’s the problem?”

  Brooke straightened. “She’s in a lot of pain, but . . . she was talking and not making sense.”

  Kayla, short and plump and kindhearted, shed her irritation. Leaning over Sarah, she used that professional nurse voice to ask, “Mrs. Di Luca, how are you feeling?”

  Sarah focused on her face. “Fine. Why?”

  “Brooke thinks you’d like your pain meds,” Kayla said.

  “I would, yes. I’d like to sleep, but I’m uncomfortable.”

  Kayla glanced at the chart. “Then let’s do it.” She added the meds to the IV, glanced toward the closed door, and her eyes shone with the gleam women always got around the Di Luca men. “Was that Rafe Di Luca I saw?”

  “Yes. All the brothers are here now.”

  “I’m surprised you had room to breathe with all those broad male shoulders in here.”

  Brooke grinned. “They are a little overwhelming. But nice guys.”

  “As long as they get their own way.” Kayla checked Sarah’s pulse and ran her blood pressure.

  “All men are like that,” Sarah said, her voice slurred from the drugs.

  Kayla and Brooke laughed, and watched Sarah fall asleep.

  Kayla nodded. “Sleep’s the best thing for her.” She looked up at Brooke. “She’s eighty years old, she was attacked, and she’s got a concussion. She’s going to have moments of confusion. That’s just the way it is.”

  “Will she be okay?” Brooke needed the reassurance.

  “You mean will she be as sharp as she was before the attack? I don’t know. I wouldn’t know if she was twenty years old—concussions are tricky things. But she’s in good health, has lots of friends, keeps busy. There’s no re
ason to think anything except that she’s going to be fine.”

  “Thank God.” Brooke leaned over Sarah again to brush her hair away from her face. “I don’t know what they’d do without her.” If someone was trying to threaten the Di Lucas, they’d picked the right way to do it.

  And the stuff Sarah had said . . . it sounded as if she knew something, as if she’d been threatened before.

  But Kayla hadn’t heard the discussion in here, or Sarah’s ramblings. Thank God, because she loved to gossip, and that wasn’t the kind of gossip Brooke wanted to encourage.

  Instead Kayla headed right for the possibility of juicy Di Luca brothers rumors. Sighing gustily, she said, “That Rafe. I had such a crush on him when I was a kid. Remember that movie he did? The one with the dragon who was his best friend when he was little and then he grew up and forgot about him?”

  “I remember.” Like Brooke could forget. Wandering to the window, she looked out over the cars in the parking lot, over the roofs of the houses, the small businesses on the outskirts of downtown, the larger hotels and shops set around the square. She could see the thin, silver line of the river, and beyond that, the pre–World War II homes of the longtime residents. She could pick out her mother’s house, tucked onto a tiny lot on a short block in an old neighborhood. Beyond that, the plots of land grew grander, and in the midst of each one was a mansion owned by someone who had recently discovered the charms of Bella Terra. And beyond that were the vineyards that created the valley’s affluence.

  Bella Terra was a mix of old and new, poverty and prosperity, and Brooke loved it all.

  “Rafe was such a handsome boy even then.” Kayla whistled softly, then sensibly said, “Well, look at his parents.”

  Brooke did not want to talk about Rafe or his parents or how gorgeous he was. She had experience with nosy reporters and nosy guests; she could have shut Kayla down. But she liked Kayla, and better this than speculation about the attack on Sarah Di Luca, especially when it sounded as if . . . as if it wasn’t a random event.

  Kayla chatted on. “You don’t see people who are more beautiful than Gavino Di Luca and Francesca Pastore, and when they got together and made Rafe—I mean, the Di Lucas have always been hot stuff, but he takes it to a whole new level. That tanned skin. Those blue eyes. Those long, black lashes. Whew!” She waved her hands at her face.

  “Yeah. Whew.” Brooke picked up her purse.

  “I remember when you two used to hang together. You were so close, we all thought you’d get married.”

  Ah, the small-town high school, a germ factory of scandal. Prosaically, Brooke said, “I wanted a career. He wanted to go in the military. So we waved good-bye.”

  “I knew it! I told the girls you were still friends, but they didn’t believe it.”

  Brooke leaped on the opportunity to spread the right kind of rumors. “Every time we see each other, we fall right back into that friendship. Now I’m going to help him set up security for Mrs. Di Luca. You know—because I know everybody in town and can help him figure stuff out.”

  “Oh. Good. Makes sense.” Kayla nodded, but she didn’t care about something as dull as friendship when there was Hollywood and glamour to discuss. “I wonder why he quit making movies.”

  “I think because he wanted to live with his grandmother.” Brooke eased toward the door.

  “Really?” Kayla sounded surprised. “I heard it was because he was always in so much trouble his mother gave up on him.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” Kayla was so right.

  “Well, you’d know. You know the family and Rafe better than anyone.”

  Brooke stopped easing and looked Kayla right in the face. “I know the resort. That’s all. That’s my job.”

  “Sure.” Kayla didn’t believe her, but she didn’t press the matter. Instead, in a reflective voice she said, “About six months ago, I showed that dragon movie to my kids and cried so hard the DH went out and bought me ice cream. That’s a lot of talent Rafe abandoned for some dangerous job fighting bad guys. I mean, the combat job—that’s really real.”

  Brooke walked toward the entrance again. “I’ll tell the Di Luca boys what you said about Mrs. Di Luca. I’m sure they’ll appreciate the news.”

  Chapter 4

  The three brothers spilled out of Nonna’s room into the bright, green, glaring hospital corridor. As the door swung closed behind them, they drew simultaneous breaths of relief. Then Eli and Noah turned on Rafe.

  “Where have you been, man?” Eli asked.

  “Nonna’s been fretting about you,” Noah said.

  They both punched Rafe in the arms, Eli on the left and Noah on the right.

  “Hey!” Rafe rubbed his biceps. They were bruised for sure—but he figured he deserved it.

  Besides, next thing Eli got his arm around Rafe’s neck and gave him a noogie, while Noah kissed him on both cheeks, Mafia-style. Rafe fought, of course—it was required. But he didn’t fight very hard, and when Eli released him, they were all grinning.

  So were the nurses at the desk.

  Knowing how fast rumors spread in this town, Rafe kept his voice low. “I was in Kyrgyzstan. No quick way out. Anyway, I had to get someone to take my place first or that woman was going to get—” He took a breath. “Well. I got here as fast as I could.”

  “I thought you were done taking that kind of security job.” Eli was the oldest by three years, from Gavino Di Luca’s first marriage to a Chilean beauty queen and actress who, when she found out about Gavino’s affair with Rafe’s mother, had first tried to kill Gavino with a kitchen knife—the publicity had been great for Gavino’s movie career—and then, five years later, when she got out of prison, kidnapped her son from Nonna’s house. For years, no one had known where he was. . . .

  Eli never spoke of those missing years. Never.

  “Friend of mine from the military called,” Rafe said briefly. “His daughter’s an Air Force helicopter pilot. She went down close to the Chinese border. Rebels. Religious zealots. The Chinese. They were all after her. I do favors when I can.”

  His two brothers nodded; then the three of them stepped out of the way as Kayla Garcia brushed past them, scowling, and entered Nonna’s room.

  As the door swung open, Rafe caught a glimpse of Brooke leaning over the bed, talking to Nonna, brushing her hair back.

  All Rafe’s life, Nonna had been his bulwark, the one thing that he could depend on to be there, to support him, to love him. Now someone had attacked her.

  Seeing Nonna resting in the bed, seeing Brooke beside her . . . they were everything he’d ever cared about.

  If only he didn’t feel so guilty for being gone . . . and for never really being here when he was here.

  The door swung closed, cutting off his view, and the now sober Di Luca boys headed for the empty waiting room at the end of the corridor.

  They stopped and stared at the old-fashioned coffee machine in dismay.

  Eli sighed. “There’s better coffee in the cafeteria.”

  “Can’t leave. I need to wait for Brooke.” When Rafe had entered Nonna’s room, he had noted Brooke sitting quietly in the corner. He had noted she looked tired. He had noted she wore a pair of jeans, a white button-up shirt, and faded pink tennis shoes. But he hadn’t really looked at her. His grandmother had commanded his attention. His grandmother deserved his comfort and his kindness.

  But now he moved on to other priorities: finding Nonna’s attacker, and then . . . then spending time with Brooke, listening to her voice, breathing the same air, wishing that things could be different, and knowing that was impossible.

  Because all those years ago she’d told him she wouldn’t have a man who made danger his business. She wouldn’t travel the world with him. She wouldn’t wait and worry about him as she had about her parents.

  She knew what she did and didn’t want. He had accepted that years ago . . . and yet, every time he saw her, he knew—she was the only one for him.

  She had put down r
oots in Bella Valley, and those roots grew deep.

  “How bad was Nonna?” he asked his brothers. When he’d gotten the news, up there in the Kokshaal-Too Mountains, he had been incredulous. During all his travels around the world, Nonna’s home, this valley, had glowed in his mind like a warm coal of reassurance.

  “We thought we were going to lose her.” Noah’s hand shook as he picked up the pot and poured a cup of coffee, then another, then another and handed them around.

  Now some bastard had ripped his grandmother’s security away from her, and at the same time stolen Rafe’s comforting delusion of Nonna’s immortality and a home that waited for him forever.

  Rafe was going to make that bastard sorry he had ever been born. He clutched the cup, taking comfort from its warmth. “What haven’t you told me about the attack?”

  “Nothing, damn it. Not a damned thing.” Eli took a sip and shuddered at the flavor.

  “We don’t get that much violence here.” Noah was the director of Bella Terra Resort, in touch with city and state officials. “Drunk tourists, of course, some drugs and shoplifting, but not this kind of random stuff, and the cops haven’t got the personnel and equipment to deal with it.”

  “Get me the police report.” Then, remembering these were his brothers and not someone who worked for him, Rafe said, “Please, can you get me the police report?”

  Eli pulled out his smartphone, punched a few buttons, and said, “I’ve forwarded it. Will you review it right away?”

  “No.” Most definitely no. “I want to make my own observations untainted by what anyone else has decided.”

  “Bryan DuPey was the one who said it was a vagrant,” Noah said, “and he’s the chief of police.”

  “Dopey is the chief of police?” Rafe couldn’t believe it.

  Eli laughed at the reminder of their high school taunts. “Yeah, but we pronounce it DuPey now.”

  “Why? He was always an idiot.” Rafe dismissed DuPey without a second thought.

  “Yeah, but he loves Nonna’s cookies,” Noah said. “He really tried, Rafe, but the thief, or whatever he was, didn’t do anything to the house. They even tried fingerprinting and didn’t get anywhere.”