Midwife, Mother...Italian's Wife

by Fiona McArthur

  His voice was flat. Cold. Implacable. A stranger. ‘I will know where they went. Those who follow them are better prepared to apprehend than you or me. I told you I had people protecting my family.’

  Great. That was just great. ‘And what about mine? Whose protection does my son have?’

  ‘My protection too, of course,’ he ground out. Her eyes flashed a deep fear at him that tore at his faith in his men and his belief he’d done the right thing to stop her. He’d done this to her. Why had he left Paulo again today? He’d created a pattern. The first rule of prevention. So much for his belief the threat had passed. So much for his efforts to not be too protective of his son. Now his nightmare had spilled over onto Tamara.

  But he hadn’t believed they’d follow him here. It didn’t make sense. Why would they do such a thing? Was it not easier to wait until he returned to Italy? Even Gianni had thought danger in Australia highly unlikely. But thinking these thoughts brought no solace at this point.

  She was waiting for a crumb of reassurance and he was too slow with it. ‘Of course he will be safe. You have to trust me.’

  She stepped back, further out of his arms, and spun away. ‘You’re asking a lot,’ she threw over her shoulder as she paced. ‘To trust you with the most important person to me in the world.’

  He knew it was such a huge thing she entrusted to him. Her shoulders were rigid with it. ‘I know,’ he said.

  She narrowed her eyes as she turned to face him. With her arms crossed tight across her breasts as if to hold in the fear, she searched for a hint of unsure-ness or ambivalence on the rightness of his actions. He hoped there was none.

  Did she trust him? It was achingly important she could. Her chest rose and fell in a painful rasping breath full of unshed tears that tore at his own pain like the claws of a bird.

  He saw the moment she accepted there was nothing physical she could do. He’d taken that away from her but he’d had to, for her own safety, and for the boys. She sagged back against her car. ‘What happens now, then?’

  ‘We go back home and wait.’

  She shook her head angrily at the passiveness of the action, then threw herself off the car and back into action. ‘I’m going to see Misty.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘MY MUM’S going to rip your arms off!’

  ‘And my father will see you in hell.’

  Both boys looked at each other and nodded. The captors, three dark-clothed Italian men, laughed as they drove.

  Jack screwed up his face at the men and patted Paulo’s leg. ‘Don’t worry, Paulo. She’ll come.’

  Paulo hunched his shoulders. ‘It is my father who will come. And these dogs will pay.’ The bravado was wearing a little thin but it still helped the fear that crept up their arms and settled around their tight little bellies as they sat wedged between two burly men. Two small boys in a situation they shouldn’t have had to deal with.

  ‘How have we two of them?’ The Italian accent was coarser than Paulo’s dad’s and his partner shrugged.

  ‘Didn’t know which to take. We can get rid of the other one.’

  In the back the boys huddled closer together.

  Tammy parked her car outside Louisa’s house and left the door gaping as she ran straight into Misty’s arms. Ben came out of the house to meet them.

  Leon heard Misty say, ‘I feel they’re fine. Honestly,’ and he grimaced at the strange comment. He passed Tammy’s open car door and shut it with tightly leashed control before he followed her in.

  He felt suspended above himself, detached and icy cold as though he were peering down a long tunnel when all he wanted to do was find the people who had taken their sons and crush their throats. But he needed to stay calm for Tamara—and for the boys. He’d been speaking to his bodyguards and they had caught up with the car but were keeping distance between them. They had to find a way to stop the vehicle and keep the boys safe.

  When he entered the residence it seemed the room was full of people. Louisa, her lined face white and shaking, stared at him as if she didn’t understand. Kidnappings and violence were not in her life and Leon moved swiftly across and folded her in his arms. He stroked her hair. Nothing like this would have ever happened before in Lyrebird Lake.

  Leon remembered his hope he wouldn’t need to call on his brother’s help for just such a situation. Gianni wasn’t here but it seemed he’d get as many people as he needed. But for the moment he had to trust his own men and, now that he’d just contacted them, the Australian police. They would ring him if he could do anything.

  And past his fear for his son was Tammy, and her son’s kidnapping, leaving Leon devastated he’d brought this on her by association, and regretful of her pain. His own agony was like a gaping wound in his chest and no doubt it would be as bad if not worse for a mother. Louisa shuddered in his arms and he rested his chin on the top of her grey head. Poor Louisa. Poor Tammy. And what of the boys?

  The afternoon stretched into evening and then to night. Six hours after his return to the lake Leon stood tall and isolated in Tammy’s den. He searched her face for ways to help but he knew she wasn’t able to let herself relax enough to take the comfort he wanted to offer.

  He carried the coffee he’d made her from the machine in the kitchen and the strong aroma of the familiar beans made him think of home. At home he would have more access to resources.

  His arms ached to pull her against him and trans-fuse the strength she needed in the closing of this tumultuous day. Her distress left him powerless in a way he wasn’t used to and he placed the cup on the mantel, then sighed as he reluctantly lowered himself to the sofa to watch her. ‘I stay until we have them back.’

  Tammy heard him. The coffee aroma drifted past her nose. She was glad he’d finally sat down. It gave her more room to pace and her eyes closed as she processed his words. Until we have them back. ‘I want my son.’ She wanted to wring her hands. ‘I want Jack now. I don’t want you.’

  That wasn’t strictly true. She’d driven everyone else away—her father, her stepmother—but she’d been unable to evict Leon from her presence. He’d flatly refused to leave her. And she needed him near her so she could know she was kept in the loop. Despite her wall of pain she seemed to be able to draw some strength from Leon which seemed absurd when he was the reason she was going through this.

  She reached for the cup and took a sip. It was strong, and black, as she liked it. She’d drunk her coffee that way since she’d been that impressionable teen who’d fallen for a man similar to this one. Or was that unfair to Leon?

  What was it with her and men that attracted trouble and danger?

  At sixteen Vincente Salvatore had taught her to love his language, his country, all things Italian, with a heady persistence that endeared her to him. An Italian with trouble riding his shoulders, hot-headed and hot-blooded. Then he blew it all away with a reckless abandon for right and wrong that left her with the realisation of just how dangerous his lifestyle was. She swallowed a half-sob in a gulp of coffee. Maybe Vincente’s friends could find Jack.

  How on earth had she embroiled herself and her son in trouble without realising it? But she would have to deal with that. It was her fault. She couldn’t believe she’d been so irresponsible as to let the children out of her sight. Couldn’t forgive herself for daydreaming her way to negligence. Such stupidity could have cost Jack his life. And Paulo his.

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known of the possibility of danger. Even though Leon had said it was past. And what had she been doing? Daydreaming about a man. Following Louisa for titbits of gossip about his presence at the old residence. Anything to feed her growing fascination for Leon.

  Well, it would all stop. Now. She would promise anyone who would listen that the risk of danger to her family far outweighed any fleeting attraction this dark Italian held over her.

  A bargain.

  Jack and Paulo back safe and she’d never think of the man again. Honest.

  She should have
learned that she was destined to be brought down by her heart, and the menace of these Mediterranean men, her nemeses. Now their sons had paid the price.

  Unfortunately, at this moment, it was hard to keep those thoughts clear in her mind because her shattered emotions were torn—torn between guilt for her negligence, spiralling fear for the outcome and the gnawing need for comfort from the very man who caused it all.

  Louisa had been gathered up from the residence by her stepson and whisked away. And Leon was here, the only barrier to the emptiness of this house.

  It was eerie how she could imagine the outside of her empty house, dark and forlorn in the moonlight, and she glanced out the window to the shifting shadows in the street outside. Strained her ears for imagined sounds and then turned abruptly from the window and put the cup down.

  She even ran her fingertips along the mantelpiece as if to catch dust and at least do something useful. Her mind was fractured into so many fear-filled compartments and what-ifs she couldn’t settle.

  She wanted both boys asleep in Jack’s room, with Stinky’s head on his paws as he watched his master—glancing at her every time she went in as if to ask if he could stay.

  But the blue room at the end of the hall stayed empty like an unused shrine.

  And Leon watched her.

  It had taken until midnight for Tammy to decide she couldn’t stay at her father’s house. She’d said she wanted to be near Jack’s things. Leon had refused to allow her to go alone and he was still glad he’d come. But as he watched her, she glittered like glass in moonlight with nervous energy. Every sound made her jump, every creak of the polished floorboards made her shiver, and Leon ached for the damage he’d caused to this sleepy town and to this woman.

  He patted the sofa beside him and held out his hand. ‘Come. Sit by me. Let me help you rest for a few moments at least.’

  She turned jerkily towards him. ‘I can’t believe he’s not here.’ Staccato words stabbed the air in the room like little knives, tiny steel-tipped blades of guilt that found their mark on him.

  ‘They will have them by morning. My men have promised me.’ Leon rose to slide his arm around her stiff shoulders and pull her down to sit beside him so their hips touched. She was so cold and stiff and he nudged more firmly against her hip, offering comfort to both of them, and a safe place to rest if only for a moment, and if only she could.

  ‘Your men?’ She sniffed. ‘If they were so good the boys would never have been taken at all.’

  ‘Nobody expected this here. We were lucky they were still with us.’ Leon had his own demons. Paulo gone and he didn’t know if he was alive. Or Jack. Surely they would get them back.

  There had been no demand yet. Would they discard the boy they didn’t need? Would they leave him alive? It had been his choice to delay the police while his men followed the trail initially.

  The trail Tamara had wanted to chase. His first sight of her face as she drove past him like a woman possessed still affected him. Her little car pushed to its limits to the point where his more powerful motor could barely catch her. His throat tightened. ‘I can’t believe you pursued them in your car.’

  She brushed the hair out of her eyes impatiently. ‘Why would I not?’ Her eyes searched his. ‘I could still be chasing them if you hadn’t stopped me. What if they’ve disappeared and we never find where they went? What, then?’

  He shook his head at the thought. No! It would not be like that. He had to trust what his operatives told him. Tomorrow in the early morning, it would be okay. ‘I was terrified for you as well. What were you going to do if you caught them?’

  Her eyes burned. ‘Whatever I had to. They have my son.’

  And mine. She had no idea. And he did and should never have brought this on these people. He knew what loss and guilt did to people. ‘What you did was too dangerous.’

  Another swift scornful search of his face. ‘For them?’

  ‘For you and for the boys.’

  She shook her head. ‘For the first time in a lot of years I don’t know what to do. You tell me to wait. But how long must I wait? I want him now.’ Her shoulders slumped and slowly, like the deflation of an overstretched balloon, all the fight leaked out of her and she sagged against him as she buried her face in his shoulder.

  He smoothed her hair. Had to touch her and try to soothe her agitation as she went on. ‘There’s never been such hard waiting. I’ve never had such fear. Make me forget the horror I can’t shake. Talk to me. Tell me something that helps.’

  He pulled her onto his lap and hugged her, still smoothing her hair and whispering endearments she wouldn’t understand. Assuring her the boys would be returned. That he knew she was scared. That he was scared.

  His hand travelled over her hair and his mind seemed to narrow its focus, the room faded until only the sheen of silk beneath his fingers existed. Rhythmically he stroked as he murmured until suddenly he began to speak more easily.

  In his own language, not hers. All the things he’d bottled up for years but never said.

  He said he knew how scared she was. How scared one could be in that moment of loss. He could taste his first moment of absolute fear and horror, all those years ago on the ocean, at fourteen, not yet a man but about to become one.

  The storm upon them before his father realised, the sudden wave that washed he and his brother overboard, and his father throwing them the lifebuoy just as the boom smashed him and his mother into the water after them.

  He’d grabbed Gianni’s collar and heaved him against his chest so his head was out of the water. He could remember that frozen instant in time. Them all overboard, Gianni unconscious and only he with something to cling to. He couldn’t let go of his brother and, screaming out against God, he’d watched his parents sink below the surface.

  So alone in the Mediterranean under a black sky. It had grown darker as the night came; Gianni awoke, and he’d had to tell him of their parents’ fate.

  Such fear and swamping grief as they’d bobbed in the dark, imagining sharks and trying not to move too much, chilled to the core, fingers locked to the rope of the buoy. Knowing they would die.

  Their rescue had been an anticlimax. A fishing boat pulled them in. Then the week in hospital alone and grieving, with visits from lawyers and one old aunt and her change-of-life son who’d hated them both.

  He’d vowed that day he would be strong. And he had been.

  He’d married Maria as his parents had betrothed them, and finally they’d had Paulo. His heritage safe again.

  Then Maria had died and Paulo had been almost taken. He’d realised his life could fall apart again any moment and he’d needed to see his brother, his only family.

  He, who’d never spoke of anything that exposed his soul, poured it all out to Tammy. It eased the burden of guilt he carried to tell her how he felt, without the complication of her knowing. From somewhere within it was as if the walls he’d erected around his emotions began to crumble, walls he’d erected not just since Maria’s death, but since that lost summer all those years ago when he’d felt he failed his parents. Walls that prevented him being touched by feelings that could flay him alive.

  He continued to murmur into her hair as her softness lay against his chest. His native tongue disguising the compromise and giving freedom to express the beginning of something he hadn’t admitted to himself as he held her warmth against his heart. Her healing warmth. The way she touched his soul. He told the truth.

  How sorry he was to have brought this on her. How the lure of her physical attraction for him had begun to change to a more complete absorption. How she made him feel alive as he hadn’t felt for years, even if sometimes it was with impatience or frustration when she thwarted him.

  How beautiful she was, how she’d captured his attention after their first dance at his brother’s wedding, how he’d never felt that connection before with another woman, even his wife, and that made him feel even worse.

  How these past few days he cou
ldn’t stay away, spent his mornings and afternoons dragging his thoughts away from her so he could concentrate on business—something he had never had trouble with before—when in fact he was waiting for the evening when he could call on her.

  The lonely nights dreaming of her in her house a street away, staring out through the window all night so he could start the whole process again.

  How he’d glimpsed the promise of what could have grown between them, but now that had changed. Had to change. Once the boys were returned he would sit on a plane and watch the ground fall away beneath him, knowing she was still in Australia. So she and Jack would be safe, apart from the danger that followed him.

  Knowing the distance of miles would not be the only distance that grew between them every second. But he would. Because she would be safe. Her son would be safe. His life was too complicated for this, the ultimate complication, but he could never regret these past few days. And he would never forget her.

  Tammy listened. Her head on his chest, the regular beat of his heart under her cheek as his liquid words flowed over her. Some words and phrases she didn’t catch but most she did, like the honesty in his voice and the gist of his avowal. The sad acceptance of his promise brought tears to her eyes.

  When she lifted her face to his, he saw the tears and softness in her eyes and he could no more stop himself from kissing the dampness away than he could stop himself drawing breath. Her arms came up around his neck and her face tilted until she lay suspended below him, mute appeal his undoing.

  He stood with her in his arms, cradled against him, and strode to her room, a dim and disconnected haven from the reality which they both sought to escape.

  To hide in each other, buffer the pain of their fears with the physical, the warmth and heat of each other’s bodies. At the very least the release might let them sleep.

  Tammy knew she would regret this. But there were so many huge regrets—this tiny one was nothing if it gave her some flight from the pain, and comfort to them both.