Lights crisscrossed the yard and then ran along the grass, throwing shadows in all directions. She knew Emilio had set those lights up in order to ensure the riders could go anywhere and escape quickly if need be. They would be checking rooftops, basements, every nook and cranny, just to make certain no one had been left behind to try to assassinate Giuseppi. She should help, but she knew they didn’t really need her.
Already, several of their people were leaving. Stefano didn’t want the police to associate them with the Saldis. It would be interesting to see how this was explained.
“Emme?”
She closed her eyes as a hand came down on her shoulder. She hadn’t even realized her eyes had been burning. The wind was blowing. The clouds looked so purple in the dark sky, spinning and churning rapidly. She’d put her blurry sight down to that.
“Stefano. I was just about to check in with you.” She still had the gun, and she placed it very carefully in front of her. “I’m wearing gloves.” She had no idea why she pointed out what he could so easily see.
“I wasn’t worried, honey.” Stefano sank down beside her. “The cops will be here soon. I’m sending away as many as we can spare.”
She nodded. “I figured you would have to.”
“Do you want to leave?”
“Yes. But I can’t. Not until I know he’s safe.” She leaned into her older brother, needing his comfort.
Stefano wrapped his arm around her immediately. “It’s clear that you really are in love with him, Emmanuelle. I didn’t want to believe it. I don’t even know how it can be true. A Ferraro can only really love once. That one person. An all-consuming love. That means your shadow has to be involved.”
Emmanuelle closed her eyes and remained silent. Breathing. Hoping Stefano let it go, knowing he wouldn’t. He was the head of the family. He was responsible for all of them.
“Emme? Is your shadow in some way compromised by Valentino Saldi?”
It was a direct question. One didn’t lie to Stefano. Hot tears leaked out, spilled down her cheeks. At once she felt that stirring along her nerve endings. The music, the symphony. Him. Valentino. Reaching for her. Trying to comfort her. Trying to draw her back to him.
“Emme?” Stefano repeated, his inquiry infinitely gentle.
She nodded, unable to speak. It felt as if a terrible weight had been lifted off her chest. But now she had to worry that her brother might actually kill the man she loved.
Stefano let her cry. Holding her. Rocking her. Only for a minute or two. They didn’t have time. Cars were making an exodus, skirting around wreckage and dead bodies.
“Okay, honey, you’re going to have to tell me what happened.”
“There is no quick version, Stefano, and I don’t want Eloisa to know.” She looked at him. “I don’t. I don’t care if you think I’m being childish. I’ve had it with her opinions. This has been so terrible for me. It’s been difficult for Val as well.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“I tried to, several times. You got so angry every time Valentino’s name came up, and then … I don’t know. I didn’t want to end it. I knew I would have to.” She hung her head, ashamed. It was the truth. When she’d been with him, their world had been on fire, a brilliant white-hot flame of sheer beauty. Somewhere inside, she’d known it would have to end, but she’d clung to it as long as she could—until that night she’d dared to go to his house. To his room. Prepared to give up everything for him.
“All right, honey. Let’s do this. The story is very simple. Valentino, Dario and Giuseppi were hit by someone, we don’t know who, that’s not our business. Vittorio was called as one of the nearest neighbors, and we were with him, so we all came. I’ve already sent word to the doc, so he can document the surgery and not get in trouble. He has to report gunshot wounds to the cops. Vittorio gave blood. It’s known he has medical supplies in his unit at his home. It will sound plausible. While we were here, we were ambushed, and our bodyguards fought off the attackers along with some of Giuseppi’s men.”
Emmanuelle sent her older brother a small smile. “It looks a little like a war zone.”
“That’s true, but it isn’t my problem. Fortunately, some of Giuseppi’s men, the ones defecting, were here, so it does look as if he lost a few of them. Giuseppi will do most of the talking, so whatever tale he wants to spin will be fine with me. After, I’ll take them to the hotel.”
Emmanuelle shook her head. “Stefano. Francesca and Crispino.” She couldn’t imagine her brother risking his beloved wife and child, no matter how safe the penthouse was.
“There are more suites than just mine, Emme. I’ve already ordered one prepared. Drago and Demetrio have gone ahead to make certain the suite is entirely secure. I’ve already informed Dario of my intentions, and he’s agreed it’s the safest thing for now until Val can gather his men. I can provide a safe place for him to do that.”
“You would do that?”
“I can’t let Miceli get away with human trafficking and auctions, Emme. If Valentino has a way of shutting it down, I’ve got to help him. Once we get them settled in the suite, we can talk about how Valentino managed to compromise your shadow.”
Emmanuelle hoped he still felt the same way about helping the Saldis after she talked to him. She stood up with her brother a little reluctantly. The sirens were getting close. They stepped into the shadows and were taken fast to the house. Emme’s choice of shadows took her straight to the front door. She had no idea where Stefano’s shadow tube had taken him.
On the massive verandah, one hand on the wide column, she turned to look out over the lake. Once again, the night seemed peaceful, as if nothing had happened. There were no sounds of fighting, only the wind tugging at the water playfully, so that the dark blue surface had white caps rocking and splashing like wild surf.
The orange flames from the fire had died down, although the wind gusts would occasionally cause a sudden updraft so a fiery blaze would shoot into the sky and then go back down as the wind faded again. Her stomach was in knots. Tight, ugly knots. Was it because Miceli had spilled her private business to everyone? She pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples. She was used to her mother’s ugly, cutting, derogatory comments. Pretty much everyone knew her mother’s opinion of her. But still, it was rather humiliating to have Miceli talk to her like some actor in a theater play.
The front door opened and Dario walked out. He wasn’t walking with his usual swagger. If anything, he was a little hunched, one hand pressed against his side, hidden under a jacket. He raised an eyebrow when he saw her. Instead of sweeping on by and ignoring her as he normally did, he dropped into a chair and looked up at her.
“That was a smooth operation your family ran, Emme.” There was genuine admiration in Dario’s voice. He didn’t give respect or admiration easily. Most of the time he was expressionless. He reminded her a lot of her brothers.
“Yeah, they’re good at all kinds of things.” She was noncommittal. She had always been careful never to talk about her family around Valentino, Dario, Giuseppi or even Greta. Thankfully, they didn’t ask her many questions, but even when asked the nicest, most basic question, such as how was everyone, she had trained herself to think carefully before answering cautiously.