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Taviano broke out into a sweat. He had to stop thinking about it. His mind seemed to be in chaos. Suddenly he couldn’t understand what the voices in the room were saying. They were loud, and then receded. Back and forth. Ringing through his ears, reverberating through his head. His heart pounded. His chest hurt, the pressure building until he pressed his hand hard there, fearing he was having a heart attack. His lungs felt raw, desperate for air, but he couldn’t draw a single breath.
He thought he heard Nicoletta’s soft voice and Stefano’s deeper one. Someone bent over him and he started to fight that shadowy figure, self-preservation taking control.
Nicoletta knew exactly what was happening to Taviano because it had happened to her a thousand times. She had no idea what had triggered a flashback, but he was suffering from post-traumatic stress, and clearly, none of his family had ever seen him have an event. He was violent, impossible to get near.
“Get everyone out of here, Stefano,” Nicoletta ordered, taking charge. Taviano was her husband, and she had his back.
“Call a doctor,” Eloisa snapped. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Nicoletta. You don’t have a clue what’s wrong with him.”
“I know exactly what’s wrong, and so do you. Get out of here. Everyone needs to get out of here, especially you,” Nicoletta snapped back. “I mean it, Stefano, get them out.”
Eloisa went white. Stefano turned his dark, speculative gaze from his mother to Nicoletta and then to his brother, who was on the floor, sweat beading on his skin as he clutched his chest. He looked as if he was having a heart attack. Eloisa backed up as if afraid of Nicoletta.
“Everyone please leave,” Stefano said calmly. He gestured toward Taviano. “Nicoletta, tell me what to do.”
“Get me a cool washcloth and some water.” She knelt beside her husband but didn’t touch him. “Baby. Can you hear my voice? Listen to me. To the sound of my voice. I’m right here with you. Taviano, it’s Nicoletta, and I’m right here.” She took the cloth from Stefano. “I’m going to just put this cloth on your head.”
She did so fearlessly, uncaring if he struck her. For a moment he caught at her wrist, fingers biting deep into her flesh, his gaze bouncing all over the place, but he didn’t hit her.
“That’s it, baby. Just take a breath. Breathe with me. Like we do when we’re together. At night, all those nights when you came to my room and I was panicking just like this. You put a cloth on my head, and you helped me to breathe. You said I was safe. You’re safe. No one can touch you. You’re here with me. I won’t ever let anyone touch you. You’re always safe with me, just the way I know I’m safe with you.”
Beside her, she felt Stefano freeze. Every muscle in his body. The room temperature seemed to go down several degrees. She didn’t take her eyes from Taviano, afraid to look away from him. Afraid of losing him to a nightmare world. She’d been lost in that world so many times and he had been the one to help her find her way out. She had to do the same for him.
“Baby, look at me. Don’t look inward. Just look at me. See me. Breathe with me. I’m real.” She took a chance and placed her hand gently on his shoulder, waited a heartbeat to see if he recognized her touch enough to let her slide her hand down to his. “I love you, Taviano. I know you’re somewhere else right now, but come back to me. That’s not a good place for you to be. Breathe with me.” She used the words he had sometimes used with her.
His long lashes fluttered. Those eyes of his, so intensely blue, so dark, looked at her, lost beyond imagining, haunted beyond description. Behind her, Stefano made a sound so agonized it tore at her heart. He saw what was in those eyes. The eyes of a lost child, a little boy so bewildered and tormented, so hopeless and hurt and completely alone.
Nicoletta didn’t realize she was weeping until she saw tears falling on Taviano’s shirt. She dashed at her face. “Come on, honey. Look at me. See me.”
The lashes fluttered again. Taviano looked confused. His breathing changed. He drew in one long, shuddering breath. Nicoletta immediately moved the washcloth over his face. “That’s right. You’re good. I’ve got you.”
He sat up and pulled her into him all in one motion, dragging her in so fast and hard he smashed her into his chest, driving all the air out of her lungs and just holding her. Her lungs burned, and for a few moments she thought she couldn’t breathe, but she managed to turn her head enough to find a way to draw in air, and that was all that mattered. They clung to each other.
“Dio, tesoro, what the hell happened?”
“It’s okay. You had a flashback. You’re okay. No one got hurt. You’re okay.” She kept murmuring reassurances over and over to him, remembering how disoriented she’d been at times when she’d found herself in his arms in the middle of the night in Lucia and Amo’s house, tight against his chest, sobbing.
“What the hell,” he muttered against her neck. “That hasn’t happened in years.”
He rocked her. Or she rocked him. She didn’t know which one of them needed more comfort at that point. Taviano had always been her rock, her anchor, and it had really thrown her that he had unexpectedly and without warning gone into a flashback. She knew that when he fully realized the event had happened in front of his siblings and cousins he was going to be very upset, but the worst was still waiting for them, sitting directly behind them on the floor.
She still hadn’t looked at Stefano. Other than that one agonized sound, much like a wounded animal, the head of the Ferraro family hadn’t so much as stirred.
It was some time before Taviano loosened his grip on Nicoletta and looked around him. “I don’t even know what triggered that, it hasn’t happened to me in years. One minute I was sitting there and the next, I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was having a heart attack.”
“You scared everyone,” Nicoletta said.
“Everyone?” he echoed. Then it hit him where they were and that they’d been in a meeting with his siblings and cousins.
He gripped her arms hard and looked around the room. She knew the exact moment when he saw Stefano sitting on the floor just a few feet from them. Taviano went very still. She turned to face the oldest Ferraro brother as well. Stefano looked as destroyed as she felt. He had his head down, his fingers pressed into the corners of his eyes. Before either of them could speak, Stefano came to his feet in a swift, graceful movement. He reached down and offered Nicoletta his hand without really looking at her face.
“I have to get out of here. Let’s go for a walk.”
Nicoletta took his hand without hesitation, her heart going out to him. She could feel Stefano’s distress. It was overwhelming and very genuine. Anger. Sorrow. He reached for Taviano’s hand and pulled him up as well and then turned away from both of them toward the elevator, already texting those in the other room to let them know they were leaving and that Taviano was all right.
Nicoletta and Taviano followed Stefano onto the elevator. She couldn’t think of a word to say to break the uncomfortable silence, so she just stood as close to Taviano as possible to offer him comfort. She knew he had never wanted this—his brother to know what had happened to him. It was obvious that he knew—or at least guessed what it was that had triggered Taviano’s flashback. They walked straight through the lobby of the Ferraro Hotel out into the coolness of the night and turned toward the businesses that made up a portion of the Ferraro territory.
“They sent you away while I was gone for training. I wasn’t here to stop them.” Stefano made it a statement.
Taviano didn’t reply. He kept walking, but his fingers tangled with Nicoletta’s. She glanced from his set face to Stefano’s. They looked so much alike they could have been twins had they not had an age difference between them.
“I knew something was wrong, but you wouldn’t tell me when I asked. I shouldn’t have stopped asking, but the more I did, the more it felt like I was driving you away from me.” Stefano shook his head. “Sometimes, Taviano, I despised them so much. I looked at all of
you and saw these beautiful, intelligent children deserving of parents who loved them, and what did you get? They couldn’t be bothered with even tucking you in at night, let alone looking after you. I never should have left. I’m so fucking sorry that I did.”
Nicoletta’s heart nearly stopped. If Stefano actually cried, she didn’t know what she’d do. He sounded like he was either going to weep or kill someone. She’d rather he kill someone. He was the Ferraro family.
“Stefano,” Taviano said gently. “You keep saying we deserved parents. You deserved them, too. You gave us the best of everything we ever had. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Anything good in my life, I have you to thank for it.”
“Who was it?”
“They’re dead. She killed them.”
Stefano walked for nearly a block. “They? More than one. Fuck, Taviano.” He spat the last two words out and then walked to the corner in silence. “At least she did that. Why wasn’t I told?”
“Phillip wanted me gone. I was an embarrassment.”
Stefano swore in Italian, a long litany of so many colorful phrases, Nicoletta couldn’t possibly keep up with them all, nor did she think it was a good idea that she try. She just kept walking with the two men until Stefano had gotten his temper back under control. She knew it was be angry or cry. Stefano’s love for Taviano was more than that of a sibling. He’d practically raised him, although he’d been a boy himself. He was crushed and trying to do what was best for his brother in spite of his own pain.
“He threatened to leave unless she sent me away. She wanted to continue to be a rider. She made a deal with him. They wouldn’t tell you and I would stay, keeping out of his sight, and she would continue as a rider. Phillip could do his thing and no divorce.”
Stefano’s face looked like thunder. “Dio, Taviano, it’s a good thing she isn’t here at this moment. I would strangle her with my bare hands. Had they sent you away, I would have found you. I hope you know that. I never would have stopped looking for you. Fuck them. Damn them both to hell.”
Nicoletta knew it wasn’t helpful, but she couldn’t stop herself. “No counseling, of course, because you might ask questions about why your little brother needed to go into counseling.”
That brought more swearing, and she glanced up at Taviano to see if he was angry at her.
Stefano’s phone buzzed. He dragged it out of his pocket and looked down so furiously that at first the text didn’t seem to register, but then he passed his phone to Taviano.
“It’s from Rigina,” Stefano explained to Nicoletta. “They have the exact location of Benito Valdez and his crew. It’s not that far from here. Apparently, they were close, did a slow circle and came back. If you don’t mind, I would very much like to take this one. Actually, I very much need to take this one.”
“How big is his crew?” Taviano asked, handing back the phone.
Nicoletta hadn’t seen the location.
“He brought thirteen with him. His lucky thirteen. Geno’s family did the investigation, and these thirteen men always surround Benito. They do his killing for him. They bring him the women he wants, and while he was in prison, they made certain all of his operations ran smoothly for him. They kept him informed through his lawyer of anyone that was out of line, and he sent back word what action he wanted them to take, and they carried it out.”
“He trusts them more than he does his brothers?” Taviano asked, a little shocked. “Why in hell would you put more stock in strangers?”
“Others were willing to follow his brothers,” Stefano said. “You’re a Ferraro. You could have a huge following if you wanted, where someone in our employ wouldn’t be able to muster an army against us.”
That made sense. Nicoletta nodded her head. “Are you going to ask any of the others to come with us?” Silence met her inquiry. “What?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Didn’t you hear what I said about brain trauma?” Stefano asked. His phone buzzed again, and he glanced down at it. “He’s on the move again.” He glanced down the street.
Nicoletta followed his gaze. The streetlights illuminated the various stores. About a block away was Masci’s, the popular deli owned by Pietro Masci. The deli carried meats and goods from all parts of Italy. It was right next door to Lucia’s Treasures. Nicoletta had worked at Lucia’s Treasures almost continually from the first few weeks that she arrived in Chicago.
Lucia and Amo owned the boutique. The merchandise was handpicked by the couple, beautiful, unique and very expensive, because often, each item was one of a kind. Clothing was often from designers not yet known from France, Spain, Italy, India or the United States, treasures that Lucia and Amo had uncovered and were willing to take a chance on because they found them beautiful.
“You’re saying that because you’re men, you can take the risk, but I can’t?” she asked.
“No,” Stefano answered, looking impatient with her. “I wouldn’t expect that of you. I’m saying we both have been riders for years and have no known complications. You haven’t. Until we get a baseline for you and know that the bleeding and headaches you suffered are just that initial starting adjustment, we aren’t taking chances with you. In any case, I need the outlet of action right now. I just found out that my brother, one I love more than life itself, suffered a horrendous attack at a young age, one beyond my comprehension, and I need to put that all somewhere before I have to face my parent again. I don’t want to strangle her and end up in prison when I have a son, wife and family I love. Give this to me, Nicoletta, because I swear to you, I need it.”
She believed him. But she needed to make certain they were both safe. “He’s heading to Lucia’s Treasures,” she guessed. “Or our home. One or the other. I can walk to the store or take a cab home. You do what you have to do, and I’ll text the other riders to meet you where you think they’re going to be.”
Stefano gave her a faint smile and shook his head. “Benito is headed for your home.” He stood there a moment looking at her. “What you did there in my home for your husband, taking control and getting Taviano out of a bad situation, was extraordinary. I am more than grateful that he has you, Nicoletta. So grateful.”
The raw sincerity in his voice burned through her chest straight to her heart. She managed a watery smile.
“Former home,” Taviano corrected. “Benito is headed for your former home.” He leaned into Nicoletta, caught the front of her shirt and pulled her into him to kiss her. “If you have to step into a shadow, and you should always have one close, just step into the mouth of it. Stay safe. Let us do the work.”
There was no use commanding her to stay away. This was Benito Valdez, and if Taviano was the one being asked to stand on the sidelines, he would still want to make certain Valdez couldn’t harm another person she loved or come after her ever again.
“I will,” she assured. “Did you already alert the others, or should I?”
“You go ahead,” Stefano said. “Although most likely, Rigina sent a group text to them already.” He handed her his cell phone, and Taviano did the same. The two men turned and walked around the corner to the alleyway.
Nicoletta trailed after them, already texting Mariko just to be certain. She’d trained the most with Mariko, and she immediately told her that Benito and thirteen of his men were on their way to Lucia and Amo’s home. Stefano and Taviano had gone after them. She was going to follow in a car. She was about to call for a cab but then saw the number already programmed into Taviano’s phone for the bodyguards. She called for Emilio. It didn’t take more than a few minutes for him to arrive.
Enzo, his brother, drove while Emilio sat in the back with her. “They all went. Every one of the riders,” Emilio said. “Not the cousins or Elie,” he corrected, “but all of Taviano’s brothers, Emmanuelle and Mariko. They aren’t supposed to do that.”
He sounded so annoyed and so mournful she thought he could have rivaled Eeyore in the movies and books. She had to hide a smile behind her hand. “Why can�
��t they all go? There’re fourteen Demons if you count Benito, and he’s armed to the teeth and every bit as lethal as any one of his men,” she pointed out. “If they all went, that’s still only seven of them.”
“They don’t ever go where they all could be killed, leaving no one behind to carry on the name,” Emilio said. “I suppose there’s Crispino, but he’s years out from being a rider. It’s bullshit for them to do this. Stefano has lost his mind. You should have seen Eloisa. I thought she was going to have some kind of a fit. She turned purple and started choking.”
Nicoletta might have imagined that there was satisfaction in his voice. She had never considered it before, but Emilio and Enzo were also related to Eloisa, and they must have heard the way she was with her children over the years.
Whatever terrible things had happened to her as a child, however she’d been raised, didn’t excuse her for the neglect and terrible decisions she’d made with her children, at least that was Nicoletta’s opinion. She didn’t mean to be harsh, but she would never get over what Taviano had told her, not in a million years.
She knew, someday soon, Stefano was going to ask his younger brother to talk to him about what had happened. She knew Taviano would, and it would be difficult for both men. Eloisa could have prevented the trauma now by dealing with it then. Or just never having it take place by sheltering her son a little better.
“Are you all right, Nicoletta?” Emilio asked.