Nic was the only Falcone brother not frowning. He was relaxed, shoulders squared – a soldier, ready for whatever was coming. ‘I’m glad you came to us, Sophie,’ he said earnestly. His voice took on that low tone, like he was closing the space between me and him until it was just the two of us. ‘It’s not right what she’s doing. But she won’t be alive for much longer. We’ll make sure you’re kept out of all this, I promise.’
Dom had joined us by then. ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Nic.’ He rolled back on his heels. ‘The Council will decide.’
‘I know that,’ I said, addressing Dom and trying to keep the venom from my voice. ‘I know this is kind of a long shot. I didn’t think there would be so much ceremony involved … I just …’ I turned with hopeful eyes to Luca. ‘When you told me yesterday that I could come to your family if I was ever in trouble, I didn’t think I’d ever have to take you up on it. But Donata terrifies me, and I’m sick of taking chances with my safety.’ I added, ‘I’m taking your advice. I’m being smart. I recognize I can’t get out of this on my own.’
Luca had a hand over his mouth and was smoothing his fingers along his jaw, thinking.
‘Yesterday?’ said Nic. ‘What was yesterday?’
‘We ran into each other at Stateville,’ I answered quickly, seeing that Luca wasn’t feeling so inclined. His mind was elsewhere. ‘He gave me a ride home.’
Why did I feel like I was justifying myself? Why did I feel like there was anything to hide?
Nic frowned. ‘You didn’t think to mention that to me at any point, Luca?’
Dom and Gino exchanged a glance. ‘Uh-oh,’ droned Dom, grinning. ‘Looks like Sophie and Luca had a prison date without Nic …’
‘Shut up,’ I hissed.
‘Calmati.’ Luca came back to himself and clapped Nic on his back. ‘Don’t read into it, brother. It was nothing.’
‘Yeah. It was nothing,’ I added, hardening the words.
Nic squared his jaw. He was staring at Luca like he might want to set him on fire, and I felt the tension in the room soar. Only Dom was finding it funny. An hour. I would have to wait an hour for this Council, whatever it was. And I would have to do it under this stupid cloud of testosterone.
I went to the bathroom to splash some water on my face and update Millie. I felt calmer, better, focused. I just had to stay alive and keep the people I loved close by until it was all finished – until Donata was dead. I tried not to dwell on the possibility that the Falcones might slip up – that their counter-plan, whatever it turned out to be, might not work, that Jack would rally in anger and still come for me. I tried not to think about Sanctuary being denied to me, about my mother and me having to face all of this alone.
When I made my way back to the foyer, everyone had scattered. I followed the hallway on the right, tracing the rumblings coming from the belly of the house. Halfway along the corridor, I pushed a door open, following the shouting. The room was huge, with an array of gaming equipment inside – dartboards, punching bags, a foosball table, a pool table and a stereo system. There were couches and beanbag chairs around the walls, and three large diamond-crossed windows looked out on to the swelling storm.
In the middle of the room, Dom and Nic were running circles around each other. Felice and Luca were leaning against the wall, watching them with the casual interest of passing spectators, and Gino was reclining in a beanbag chair, eyes half-closed.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked Luca, just as Nic flipped Dom flat on his back. There was a heavy thump and Nic’s triumphant laughter split the room apart.
Luca indicated the little muddle of testosterone. ‘Relatively safe conflict management in a house of assassins,’ he explained. ‘Whenever we have an argument, we take it to the sparring room. When there’s a winner, it’s over.’
‘What were they arguing about?’
Luca didn’t answer me.
‘Dom has a loose mouth,’ supplied Felice. ‘And you’re an easy target.’
‘Oh,’ I said. Asshole.
Dom was back on his feet. He took a swing at Nic. Nic blocked his head with his hands and Dom used his distraction to swipe his foot across Nic’s legs, almost toppling him off balance.
‘Watch your knees, Nicoli!’ shouted Luca, betraying how interested he really was in the scrapping. ‘Don’t worry about your face, bel ragazzo!’
‘No helping!’ yelled Dom, coming at Nic again. This time he was shoved backwards, his shoes squeaking across the wood as he tried to keep from falling.
Felice was entranced by the fight. ‘Nic’s too heavy-footed,’ he muttered to Luca.
‘He’s stronger than Dom,’ Luca countered. ‘Soph, what do you reckon?’ he asked, turning to me. I had been checking the time on my phone, trying to keep the anxiety from fluttering into my throat. It was getting late, the humidity was tortuously high, and I wanted to get home before it broke. I wanted to be out of Cedar Hill before the storm came.
Did he just say Soph?
‘I think Nic will win,’ I said, trying to appear calmer than I felt just then. ‘But that’s mainly because I want Dom to lose.’ I was hoping Nic would knock him flat on his face and then I would point and laugh at him and shout Ha! You suck, Dom Falcone!
‘Watch your knees!’ Luca yelled again. ‘That’s his tactic!’
‘Stai zitto!’ Nic hissed, springing towards Dom and trying to tackle him at the waist. They started grappling with each other and I saw Nic’s head snap up and register me for the first time. He pulled backwards, balancing on the balls of his feet like a boxer.
Luca dipped his head close to mine, and I watched Nic’s face change as he glanced over. ‘Maybe if Dom shakes his head hard enough, he’ll spill enough of his hair gel to trip Nicoli up,’ he muttered. ‘And then I’ll be down a hundred dollars.’
My laugh escaped me in a loud, obnoxious wheeze and I had to clap my hand over my mouth to stop the noise. Nic was looking at us again.
Luca raised two fingers and pointed them at his eyes. ‘Focus, brother!’
It was too late. Dom had rounded on Nic, and was coming at him from the side. He clasped his head underneath his arm and wrestled him to the ground. ‘Tap out!’ shouted Dom, his order flying away with laughter. ‘I got you! I win!’
Nic’s forehead was pressed against the ground. After several fruitless seconds of struggling he tapped out. Cursing, he sprang to his feet and started brushing himself off.
Luca pushed off the wall and stalked towards him, his hands raised in aggravation. ‘What was that? I told you to focus. You’re too distractible.’
‘You were distracting me!’ I was taken aback by how angry Nic was. I knew he had lost, but it was just a game and it wasn’t like he had gotten hurt.
‘Stop acting like a baby,’ said Luca coolly. ‘You lost me a hundred dollars.’
‘Why don’t you fight me, then?’ said Nic, squaring up to him. ‘If you’re so knowledgeable then you’ll beat me.’
Luca waved his request away. ‘Don’t be so childish. We have to go now anyway.’
Nic pushed the matted hair from his eyes. ‘We’ve got time. Since you’re so concerned about your money why don’t you try winning it back? Five hundred dollars for the winner!’
Five hundred dollars. Whoa. I would have fought him for five hundred dollars. I had gotten beaten up by his uncle for much less. And that would go a long way to helping me skip town.
Luca wasn’t biting. ‘You’re so wound up,’ he said. ‘Calm yourself.’
I recognized the look in Nic’s eyes – that blazing defiance. Uh-oh. He kept coming at Luca; it was as if something inside him had been triggered and there was no backing down. ‘You’re too soft, are you? How can you run this family if you can’t even block a punch?’
Dom and Felice were exchanging loaded glances.
‘What is this?’ asked Luca. ‘What’s gotten into you?’
For the briefest second, Nic’s gaze flicked to me. ‘You know what it’s
about.’
Luca was shaking his head. ‘Brother, you have gone mad.’
‘Or maybe you’ve gone soft.’
‘Ooooh,’ said Dom, riling them both up. ‘That’s fighting talk. Are you going to let him disrespect you like that, Luca?’
‘Do you ever shut up?’ I snapped at Dom. ‘Seriously. Grow up!’
Dom’s lips smacked together in a disgusting air kiss. ‘This is your fault, bella puttana.’
I flipped him the middle finger. ‘Vaffanculo!’
Felice laughed. ‘The Americano knows Italian!’
The atmosphere didn’t seem so playful any more, thoughts of earlier bets dissolving in the heat of Nic’s aggression. He prodded Luca in the chest. ‘You’re too weak,’ he said. ‘You’re cooped up here with Valentino like some glorified bodyguard. You’ve lost your edge. You’ve been on the sidelines too long.’
Luca stepped back. ‘Careful,’ he warned. ‘You don’t want to go down this road.’
‘I get it,’ said Nic, pushing into his brother’s personal space. ‘You don’t want me to embarrass you.’
He kept going. Dom was chanting at them now and Felice was laughing, his attention glued on the brothers.
Luca snapped.
‘Enough!’ he shouted, and the searing rage surprised us all. He was feral, heaving, dangerous. I pressed my back against the wall, wishing I could rewind time and not have come inside, setting into motion whatever this was. ‘If you say one more word, Nicoli, I’ll knock you out. Non mettermi alla prova!’
Even Dom was starting to look nervous. Felice had stopped smiling. An air of hostility descended and I felt the dark cloud of something else looming towards us. This was Luca unhinged. This was pure, palpable anger. It turned him into something else. Don’t say a word, Nic. Just keep your mouth shut.
Nic was all energy. He was putting on a show. His face broke into a grin, thirty-two bright white teeth glaring at Luca. ‘You’re all talk, Luca. You couldn’t knock Ignacio over.’
Luca lunged at him and their bodies connected with a thud. Luca took the first punch in the side of his head; it knocked him sideways and my stomach lurched. I shouted at them to stop but they were engrossed in one another, trading hits like they were punching bags.
Luca was much quicker than Nic, his movements turning to streaks of black as he whipped around him. It seemed easy for him, like being set to fast-forward was second nature. His retaliation came in six lightning jabs to Nic’s stomach and one to his chin. They almost knocked him clean out but he struggled upright, swaying on his feet.
They broke apart and I got the sense Luca was giving him time to recuperate, dancing wide circles around his brother. Nic roundhouse-kicked Luca, catching him heavy in the shoulder and forcing him off-kilter. Luca rallied, darting around Nic and grabbing him by the neck. Panting, he forced him to the ground, his black hair falling in strands across his eyes. Nic kicked against Luca’s side with his feet and he crumbled backwards, cursing. His gunshot wound. What a low blow! I had the sudden urge to slap Nic on the side of his head, and felt a twinge of surprise at the strength of my anger. They were being as immature as each other. It was a fair fight.
Dom and I were both shouting now. Luca tackled Nic at the knees and they went flying backwards, crashing against the wall. Nic slipped towards the ground and Luca seized his unsure footing, looping his arm around his neck and clamping him in a headlock.
They fell to the floor together. Luca flipped Nic over, pressing his knee against his brother’s back and pulling his arm towards the ceiling behind him. Nic was wedged between Luca and the floor, his whole body twisted on itself. He was panting, his face turning red from the pain. Luca would snap the bone if he wasn’t careful.
‘Basta,’ he growled in Nic’s ear. ‘OK? Enough.’
Nic gurgled something. Luca had won, but he didn’t seem any happier about it than we were. He released his brother and Nic flopped across the floor, holding his arm gingerly.
Nic shot to his feet and tried to wrangle Luca’s neck. He mistimed and Luca swivelled, his face contorted with fury. He threw himself at Nic, knocking him to the ground again and landing on top of him, planting a leg on either side of his torso so Nic couldn’t get back up. They were screaming at each other in Italian and now Dom was getting involved too. He tried to pull Luca away, but he didn’t have the strength, and my attempts weren’t helping either. Felice remained as he had been all along – spectating.
Nic spat across the floor. Luca whipped out his switchblade, flicked it open and drove it into the wood beside Nic’s head. He pulled back, heaving, and I could see the shock coursing through Nic, the speechlessness slapped across his face. The knife glinted less than three inches from his head.
‘Enough.’ Luca’s teeth were bared. ‘You’ve had your show.’
He got to his feet, this time being careful not to turn his back on Nic again. The fighter in him disappeared almost immediately and he returned to his previous sense of calm, fixing his T-shirt and rolling his neck around until it cracked. He was beat – his shoulders sagging and his torso dipping more to one side. I could tell his wound was hurting but he would never admit it.
Nic got up. His cheeks were flaming red and he was panting hard. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t look at anyone. Without saying a word, he ducked, like a football player about to tackle, and charged full-force at Luca. He knocked him backwards and together their momentum surged, carrying them towards the window. We were all yelling then, but Nic was frenzied with anger, an animal buzzing for the kill. He kept running at Luca until, with his own twisted war cry and the mingling of our screams, he released him and Luca went crashing through the window. The glass shattered into a million pieces that rained over him as he slid backwards over the ledge.
I shrieked as we rushed towards him. Nic just stood there, peering out of the window at his brother, who was lying in a bed of glass shards stained with his own blood.
‘Sei fuori di testa,’ said Dom, turning on Nic. ‘What the hell were you thinking?’
Luca’s eyes unglazed as he sat up, taking in the trickles of blood along his bare arms. His face was cut up too, crimson dripping down his cheek and on to his neck. He pressed a hand against the wound in his side. I hoped it hadn’t reopened from all the fighting.
Felice came to stand between us, his hand clasped over his mouth as he watched Luca sway unsteadily to his feet. He shook his head, tutting loudly. ‘My window,’ he sighed. ‘That was Venetian glass.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE LOOK
Luca climbed back through the window. I balked at his casual return, studying all the thin lines of blood that were streaking his body. He didn’t look at Nic again and Nic didn’t apologize to him. He was too busy arguing with Dom.
Luca shrugged off my concern and pushed by us.
‘Hey!’ I called after him.
‘I’ll go get cleaned up.’
‘You’re hurt,’ I said to the back of his retreating head. ‘You need to go to the hospital.’
He swatted his hand in the air as he disappeared into the hall. ‘I’m fine.’
Like hell he was.
I left the room and followed him up the marble staircase, trying to decipher the feelings that were lurching inside me. There was worry – sure, his face was bleeding and his arms were cut up. There was anger, too, at Nic, because he had been a royal asshole for targeting Luca’s wound and then for throwing him through that window. But there were other things that I couldn’t place and they swirled inside me, filling me with anxiety. I wondered at the eagerness of my steps on the floor, desperate not to lose Luca as he climbed higher and higher with no regard for my shadow.
I kept staring at him, at the way he clutched his side, at the weariness in his slow steps. He had started to pick the glass out of his arms, breaking apart his skin and removing the shards without so much as a flinch. He was many things to his brothers – a constant, protective presence, wise and focused, and loyal
. He was so important to the family and yet, wounded, he retracted into himself.
It wasn’t right.
He had opted to leave Nic without verbal or physical retaliation, both of which I knew he was capable of. The thought made me want to scream at someone. Why was no one coming to see if he was OK? Why did he feel it was perfectly acceptable to walk this off and to endure it by himself when any sane person would go to the emergency room to get the glass out of their skin?
He disappeared into a room on the third floor. I lingered beside the stairs, wondering what to do. He wouldn’t want me to follow him in there. But this wasn’t about letting him save face, this was about making sure he didn’t need stitches, that all the bleeding had stopped and that he was going to recover just fine. This was about showing him the care he deserved and not leaving him to suffer it in some unnecessary stoic silence.
I knocked on his door.
He opened it hesitantly. He was using a cloth to dab at the blood on his face. He paused with it pressed against his jaw as his eyes widened. ‘Sophie?’
I didn’t wait for him to stand back and allow my entry. I barged inside and, without stopping to notice the size of his room or the bed or the colours on the walls or the closet space or anything else that might have mattered to me at another time, I turned to face him, running my words together before he could kick me out. ‘I know you said you’re fine and I’m sure you are but I’m not just going to wait downstairs when I’ve just seen you go through a freaking window. It’s not right that you should be up here alone and I don’t care if you tell me to leave but I had to see for myself that you really were OK and that you didn’t feel … you didn’t feel … what? Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘Like what?’
His gaze was so penetrating it was like he was trying to pick apart the threads of my soul. I realized then why the blue in his eyes seemed so striking, why they stood out in a room of twenty Falcones and why they seemed bluer than any other pair of eyes I’d ever seen. There was a thin ring of black around the irises, a dark perimeter caging in all that bright cerulean so it wouldn’t spill over. ‘You’re just … you’re staring at me,’ I said in a voice much quieter than I meant it to be.
Inferno (Blood for Blood #2) Page 20
