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“Vittorio threatened to put her out of the house, and I think he would have.”
“He would have,” Francesca and Sasha said in unison.
Grace found herself laughing. “I’m beginning to know him enough that I believe when he says something, he means it.”
The smile faded from Sasha’s face. “I hope you always remember that. Ferraro men show their true colors to the women they fall in love with. I can’t imagine that Vittorio won’t let you see him as he truly is with what he needs and expects from his woman.”
Francesca glanced at her sister-in-law sharply but then sipped water from a straw and subsided onto her pillow. “Do you have any idea how exhausting it is doing absolutely nothing? I’ve taken up knitting and it’s a mess. I heard crocheting was easier, but I doubt it. I really admire and have mad respect for women who knit.” She indicated the bag that was on the side of the bed.
Sasha took out the ivory-colored yarn and held up the shapeless blob that was supposed to be some kind of handmade item. “What is it?”
“Give that to me,” Francesca said and tried to snatch it out of Sasha’s hand.
Sasha burst out laughing. “I’m showing this to the boys.”
“Don’t you dare. That awful Taviano will have it framed and hung in my baby’s room and then torment me day and night over it.”
Grace wanted the camaraderie the Ferraros unfailingly showed to one another—and now were extending to her. Vittorio was offering her that. Was she really so afraid that she wouldn’t even give him a chance—give them a chance? She didn’t want to be that girl, the one curled up in a little ball. The one under the covers in the fetal position. She’d been there hundreds of times and every single time she’d told herself to stand up. This time, win or lose, if she just stood up, she had the very real opportunity, which would never come again, to be with a man she’d dreamt of.
She wanted someone to care for her the way Vittorio was offering. Someone who would keep her safe and protect her from the worst of life. She’d had the worst for too long and she wanted a buffer. The idea of an exciting and different sex life made her hot and damp with excitement. She was unashamed that she wanted everything he was offering and was willing to trade a little of her freedom for it. In her mind, Vittorio gave her wings. He set her free to soar high, but in safety.
“Do you know something?” Grace leapt out of her chair, jarring the hell out of her shoulder but she didn’t care as realization dawned. “Most of my life, I’ve thought about Haydon every single minute. I’ve been terrified of him. Terrified for anyone I spoke to that day. If I laughed when I was talking to a client. Or to the catering company. Anyone. The point is, he was always uppermost in my mind. I haven’t thought about Haydon practically at all. Just the last few nights when Vittorio wasn’t sleeping in my room.”
She didn’t care how that sounded to them—if they believed she and Vittorio were already having sex. What sane woman wouldn’t have sex with him? She was elated. In his way, by taking her phone, wrapping her in a cocoon, making the decisions about who could speak to her and who couldn’t, he had already given her freedom. I haven’t thought of Haydon. She hadn’t been afraid. She already missed the closeness she’d had with Vittorio. “Vittorio is on my mind. I think about him every waking minute.”
Francesca practically beamed at her. “That’s good, Grace. I’m so happy that Vittorio could do that for you.”
“Me too.” She touched her arm and found herself laughing. “Ow. I don’t think I’m quite ready to jump out of chairs.”
“Vittorio wouldn’t be happy with you,” Sasha said. “Lord only knows what he’d do if he saw you do that.” She and Francesca exchanged a knowing look and then burst out laughing.
“I’m not sure I want to know.” Suspicion edged her voice, but there was excitement, too. She couldn’t help it. Vittorio was a very sexual man. He’d said there weren’t punishments like she’d read about in books, but she knew there would be something he would do if he wasn’t happy and for some insane reason, the thought excited her.
A light flared bright red through the room. At once the smiles faded from their faces. Sasha was up immediately and pulled weapons from under the bed. “It’s all right, Francesca, Stefano said to expect this, remember? We’re good.” Her voice had gone from laughter and fun to businesslike. “Grace, we need to stay in this room. The panic room is right behind Francesca’s bed. I’ll need you to help me get her into it, if the alarm is given a second time. Vittorio wants you in the panic room with Francesca if it comes to that.”
“What about you?” Grace asked. She tried to keep her heart from accelerating. It was impossible, but she breathed deeply in order to stay calm. Like Sasha, it suddenly was important to her to take care of Francesca.
“I’ll be on the inside with the two of you.”
“Coming in,” a man’s voice called out.
Sasha pointed the shotgun toward the door. “Get behind me.”
Grace didn’t argue. She had just moved to the bed to sit beside Francesca when the door swung open and a man in a suit stepped through, followed by another. The two men looked grim, but somehow reassuring.
“That’s Drago and Demetrio Palagonia,” Francesca whispered to Grace. “Brothers. Related to Stefano. Emilio trained them, so you know they’re very good.” Her face had gone pale.
Grace didn’t know about Emilio or his training, but if Francesca and Sasha were so convinced, she was willing to be, as long as Haydon wasn’t slipping through the duct system.
“No one has breached our security, ladies,” Demetrio said. “This is just a precaution.” He looked directly at Grace. “It is an impossibility for anyone to crawl through the ventilation system. If they were to find a way to do so, they would trigger any number of alarms. Most likely, they would be deceased before we could get to them.”
He didn’t elaborate on how the intruder would become deceased, and Grace didn’t ask. She couldn’t help but look around the master suite, noting each vent and the proximity to the bed. She felt very protective over Francesca, especially knowing she was pregnant and already having difficulties.
Francesca hadn’t taken her gaze from Demetrio’s face. “If this is a precaution, nothing more, then why did the alarm go off?”
∗ ∗ ∗
Vittorio was up out of his chair and off to the side of the door, ready to block it once the Saldi men were through so that Emme, Giovanni and Stefano were safe. He hadn’t liked the look that passed between Angelo and Tommaso. Dario had seemed intent on staring Taviano down, but then everyone knew Dario had a thing for Nicoletta and Taviano’s announcement of his “understanding” with Nicoletta had been met with hostility.
Valentino went through the door first, signaling to his father’s bodyguards. He stepped aside and waved Giuseppi through. The man stepped into the wide hallway that opened directly into the lobby with confidence, still shaking his head, annoyed with his brother. Vittorio saw a shadow move high up on the second floor and alarms went off in his head. He glimpsed several people leaning out over the bannister to point at the chandeliers. A few moved up the circular stairway.
The stairway had been built very reminiscent of eras gone by. The Ferraro Hotels were known for luxury appointments, but also the mixture of elegance and modern technology. One man stood in the corner to the right of the stairs where he had a perfect view of the entrance to the conference room. He was lifting his arm and pointing an object toward the door and Giuseppi.
Without thinking, Vittorio shoved Miceli back into the room and dove for Giuseppi, calling out a warning to Valentino as he did so. Vittorio was a big man and enormously strong. He hit the older man hard, driving him to the floor and rolling toward Emilio. Shots rang out, but Emilio’s knee dug into his back as his cousin covered both men. Enzo had taken down Val a second after Vittorio hit Giuseppi.
Screams broke out in the lobby. Bodyguards on both sides first pointed weapons at one another and then up toward the s
tairs.
“Don’t fire!” Stefano yelled. “Too many people!”
The shooter grabbed a woman as she ran past him, trying to shoo her teenage son out of the way. The boy ran back down the staircase a few stairs and then crouched low, still in harm’s way. Emilio eased his knee out of Vittorio’s back and then helped him up. Vittorio gently aided Giuseppi. Vittorio’s momentum had taken them down the wide hallway and away from the lobby. He peered through the archway into the lobby and up the stairs.
“Are you all right?” He wasn’t looking at the older man; he studied the shadows falling around the shooter.
“Yes, yes. Thanks to you. Where’s Valentino? Was he shot?”
Stefano directed the bodyguards, “When it’s safe, take Giuseppi and Miceli and their sons back into the conference room. Make certain no one gets near them.” He clapped Giuseppi on the shoulder as he walked past him, but he didn’t stop. He walked into the lobby to the bottom of the stairs and looked up.
An eerie silence had taken over the hotel. All eyes were on Stefano. “Why don’t you let her go?” In the distance was the sound of sirens.
“That’s not going to happen,” the man called down, his accent very heavy. “If I let her go, they’ll shoot me down immediately.”
“No one is going to shoot you down.”
“They will. I know too much. They’re after me and I didn’t get the job done.”
With all eyes on Stefano, Vittorio slipped back into the darkness of the corner. His family was in place in the shadows inside the conference room. Taviano, Emme and Giovanni were with the Saldis in plain sight, but they were guarded by their mother and cousins. He didn’t have to worry about them. Stefano was deliberately placing himself in danger in order to allow Vittorio to get into position to take the shooter down.
Vittorio spotted the shadow he needed. It was one of the thinner ones that moved like lightning, so fast one’s body felt as if it were torn apart and could never catch up. The shadow, thrown by a hanging crystal branch dripping with what looked like icicles, went all the way up the stairs, beyond the shooter, to disappear into the darker corner behind him.
Vittorio would have one moment when he was exposed as he stepped from his corner to the shadow, but all eyes appeared to be on the drama playing out between Stefano and the shooter. Emilio suddenly glided between Vittorio and the others, giving him the opportunity to come in behind him. One step. The tube caught at him, dragged him inside so hard he felt wrenched apart, his body seemingly flying to pieces.
The shock was always greater than one expected, even with all his experience. He streaked past his brother and up the stairs. A teenage boy crouched six stairs from the top, almost in plain sight of the shooter. He huddled there, shaking, holding on to the bannister as if he might leap over at any moment. Vittorio caught a glimpse of the shooter’s human shield as he sped past. The woman had stark terror on her face. She was moaning, the tears streaking her makeup so it ran down her face, making several dark lines.
He halted just behind the shooter in the mouth of the tube, waiting for his body to come together, for the terrible wrenching to subside so he could breathe again. He studied the man. He was older than expected. In his late forties or early fifties. His accent had been Sicilian. What had he said? He knew too much. They would shoot him down. They needed this man alive. They needed to be able to question him.
He waited, knowing Stefano would distract the shooter to give him time to get into position to free the woman and strip the gun away.
“I’ll come up. You let her go and take me hostage. This is my hotel and I can’t very well have my guests accosted. I won’t resist in any way. I think that’s a fair deal.” Stefano set one foot on the stairs.
Vittorio couldn’t help but admire his brother. In one short moment he had saved the hotel’s reputation. Everyone would want to come where the owners put their life on the line for their guests.
Behind him, the doors of the hotel opened, and police burst into the lobby, rushing up behind Stefano. Stefano turned to face them, his hand up in the air. “Just hold it right there.”
For a moment, chaos reigned as the SWAT team poured into the lobby, weapons drawn. There was more yelling and some screams. Vittorio stepped out from the shadows, behind and just to the side of the shooter. As he reached to strip the gun from the man, two shots rang out, one after the other, and the woman slumped in the shooter’s arms, blood dripping from her throat and the middle of her forehead.
At once screams rivaled with gunfire as the police opened up with their weapons, mowing down the shooter. Vittorio turned and dove for the tube as the shooter was flung backward. The teenage boy waited as the cops rushed the stairs. One tapped him on the shoulder and he turned and ran down the stairs, looking as if he was weeping.
Stefano was waiting at the end of the hall. Relief was palpable the moment Vittorio stepped out of the shadows in front of him. “Are you all right? Were you hit?” He ran his hands over his brother’s chest. “That went to hell fast. What the fuck happened, Vittorio? Who shot her? The shot didn’t come from behind me.”
Vittorio shook his head. “I don’t know. I was concentrating on trying to strip the gun without him pulling the trigger. It was small caliber. I barely heard it. It sounded more like a pop, pop to me. The only one close was a kid . . . a teenage boy. I think he was the woman’s son. She waved him back when the shooter grabbed her. He was crouched on the stairs and was terrified. We should find that kid and make certain he’s all right.”
Stefano swore softly. “I thought for sure you were hit, too. My heart nearly stopped.” He gave a sigh. “This bites, Vittorio. The cops are going to be all over this, especially when they see we’ve had a meeting with the Saldis. We might as well just invite them to investigate us all over again.”
“They’re not going to let any of us leave.”
“Get Val and Giuseppi back into the conference room with the others where they’ll be more comfortable. There’s food. Drink. See if they need anything else. I’ll make sure the police know that Giuseppi has to get back to his wife as soon as possible.”
“They’ll be nasty about that.”
“Not if Art Maverick or Jason Bradshaw are here. They’re decent men and good detectives. Neither one will hold Giuseppi here for no reason when they know his wife is dying.”
Vittorio knew that much was true. He wanted to get to Grace, but he’d been seen behind the shooter and the police were going to keep him downstairs as well. Stefano was going to catch the brunt of the investigation. As head of the family and the one trying to talk the shooter into giving up his hostage, he would be the one talking to the police and the reporters. Vittorio didn’t envy him.
“Let’s get it done.” Talking to police and reporters was just something the Ferraros had to occasionally put up with. Vittorio put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m going to text Grace and let her know we’re all okay. She’ll be worried.”
“I’m letting Francesca know, although I’ve been keeping Demetrio and Drago apprised of the situation,” Stefano said. “Things didn’t look good between you and Grace.”
“They haven’t been for this last week. If she doesn’t come to me soon, I’m going to have to force the issue. She isn’t sleeping, and that will impede her shoulder healing. Eloisa, as usual, managed to fuck things up for me.”
“I think she makes it her life’s work to fuck up our relationships.” Stefano was watching over Vittorio’s shoulder and he turned slightly to see Art Maverick come into the building with his partner, Jason Bradshaw. The two detectives were assigned their neighborhood along with Little Italy, so they were very familiar with both the Ferraros and Saldis.
“I’d better get Giuseppi and Val into the conference room, if they weren’t taken there already,” Vittorio said. He hastened to the little alcove where Val had taken his father to sit, their bodyguards surrounding the two men. Vittorio ignored the posturing of the bodyguards. “Giuseppi, Maverick a
nd Bradshaw are in the building. Let’s get you into the conference room and Stefano will have them question you and Val first so you can get out of here.”
“Do you know who the shooter was? Or why he tried to kill us?” Val asked as he helped his father stand.
Vittorio noticed the older man trembling. Giuseppi wasn’t that old or frail. Was he ill? If he was, neither Val or Giuseppi would admit it to a Ferraro. “I didn’t have time to look at his wallet if he had one,” Vittorio said. “Someone shot that woman. Stefano thinks they were shooting at me.”
They proceeded from the alcove to the conference room. The door was open and Miceli and his sons were standing, trying to take in everything that was happening with their bodyguards attempting to shield them.
“It wasn’t one of us,” Val said, almost belligerently. “We brought a small contingency and your men were watching ours the entire time.”
Miceli dropped back to allow his brother and nephew into the room. He caught his brother in his arms and hugged him. “Did the fall hurt you?” He managed to glare at Vittorio. “You were hit very hard.”
“He saved my life,” Giuseppi said. “I’m certain of it.”
“There was no way to tell who the shooter was aiming for,” Miceli said. “It could have been anyone.”
Vittorio had to concede that he was right, although his gut told him that Giuseppi had been the primary target. “I agree, Miceli. You may as well make yourselves comfortable. No one is going to be able to leave until everyone’s been questioned. If anyone is armed or carrying anything illegal on them, now is it the time to get rid of it.”
Emmanuelle hugged him tightly. “Vittorio, that was a little too close for comfort. Too close. Whoever shot that woman might have been trying to kill you.”
“They didn’t, honey,” he reassured her.