“Paulo?”
“Just a back-up plan, Gabriela. Until everything’s settled.”
I feel the color drain from my face. “You mean you may not come back.” I don’t ask it as a question.
He looks at me like he’s memorizing me, and I touch his face, pull him to me.
“Come with me, Stefan.” I hug him tight, but I can’t get close enough. I feel him slipping away. Slipping right through my fingers.
“I need to go,” he says.
When he pulls back, he cups my face, wipes tears with his thumbs.
“Don’t leave me alone, Stefan.”
His hands tighten a little and his eyes are intense. On fire. “I have no intention of leaving you alone. I love you, Gabriela. There’s nothing more precious to me than you. I love you.”
I have no words. I can’t find them. I just feel all the emotion bubbling up in my throat and he must see it because he hugs me to him, and I’m desperate to hold on to him. Desperate to keep him. To never let him go.
“Paulo will take care of everything until I’m back. You’re to trust him. Only him.”
“Please don’t go. Just don’t. Come with me.”
He pulls back. “I can’t do that. Get what you need. Just what you need. But hurry.” He breaks free, signals to a soldier who takes my arms and holds me back as Stefan walks away.
“Stefan!”
“I won’t leave you alone,” he says, giving me one more long look. “I promise.”
But he’s promised before.
He’s sworn.
32
Stefan
I call Paulo and make arrangements for Gabriela as we drive to the warehouse in Catania. He’ll move her brother, the nurse and Gabriela to a secret location and, if things don’t go as planned for me, he’ll make sure she’s taken care of.
Francesco Catalano called a vote. But there’s nothing to vote on. I’m Antonio Sabbioni’s second son. By blood, taking over the family is my right.
Catalano himself isn’t blood. They won’t accept him as a leader.
The men he’ll meet with are blood, but distant. No clear man in line to rule. Cousins would have to battle cousins. The closest would be Rafa and that link is not through my father.
I go over my conversation with Rafa, taking into consideration the fact that he was drunk. He never did tell me why he thinks his father hates him. He called himself a pawn. Did Catalano use him to spy on me, to betray me, with the promise of his affection? Would Rafa really fall for that? Want that?
I knew the family would not take kindly to my putting Antonio’s body in the family plot. He was a traitor, it’s true. But I don’t regret what I did. He was still my brother.
This Marchese vendetta, it’s taken my focus from the family to personal vengeance. In their eyes, I should have killed Gabriel Marchese long ago. No need to take his daughter like I did. Except that in addition to the vengeance I am owed, it would grow our territory in New York, just like my father had intended. He’d just gone about it the wrong way. What he’d agreed to I wouldn’t. Ever.
I realize Gabriela hasn’t asked me what I have on her father since I first took her. I understand why she doesn’t. She knows it’s bad. One can only tolerate so much truth.
But it’s not time to think about this. Think about her. If I’m distracted, I’ll fail. And if I fail, then I won’t be able to keep my promise to her. And I have no intention of breaking any more promises where she’s concerned.
The drive to Catania is shorter than that to Taormina. I have two dozen men with me. I hope not to need them. They don’t expect me to come, but still.
“I’m a traitor too, Stefan. Can’t seem to make up my fucking mind which side I’m on.”
That’s the thing that worries me. Which side is Rafa on because taking a vote would be moot if I were dead.
I think about the other thing he said about being a pawn. To his father, I assume. Does Catalano think the families would accept Rafa as their ruler? He’s a stupid fuck if he does. Blood matters. It matters the most.
A walkie talkie screeches and Lucas pushes the button to reply.
“We’re in position. There’s two on the roof, two at the door. Can’t get inside without making some noise.”
I take the walkie talkie. “No noise. I want to be inside. I want to see their faces and hear their lies. Once we’re in, give me fifteen minutes. If you don’t have a signal from me, find your way in making as much noise as you need to and kill every bastard in the place.”
“You sure?” Lucas asks.
“This meeting isn’t sanctioned. We’ll walk in through the front door.”
“That’s not wise, Stefan. Let me send men to take—”
“We’re walking in using the front door.”
Although reluctantly, he nods.
I count the men as our remaining three SUVs pull into the parking lot.
“Just the four outside. It’s not a lot,” Lucas says.
“They don’t expect me to show up. That’s Catalano’s car. And there are the cousins from Syracuse. No representation from Rome.” That’s a good thing.
The front doors open as the SUV I’m riding in pulls to a stop. Two soldiers, each with a machine gun slung over his shoulder, step outside and watch as I climb out. Catalano’s men. Overkill with him. Always.
Tonight, we’ll test their loyalty to a man sentenced to die. Because Catalano will die tonight.
“Gentlemen,” I say, walking right up to them. Lucas flanks me as do two more soldiers. “Step aside.”
One of Catalano’s soldiers keeps his hard gaze on me but the second falters.
I take another step right up to the one with the hard eyes. “I said step aside.”
“This is a private meeting, Mr. Sabbioni.”
My lips move into a sneer. Who the fuck does this idiot think he is?
“Is it?” I ask, gripping his machine gun with both hands. Before he or anyone can react, I tug backward and slam the gun into his forehead, sending him stumbling, catching him with the tether. “This is my warehouse.”
Footsteps from behind him have me stop as lights blink on. I count more men. Maybe half a dozen. All heavily armed.
“Stefan,” Francesco Catalano calls out. He’s flanked by two soldiers when he stops, looks at me, cocks his head to the side.
“Good you’re here. Saves us a trip to Palermo,” he says.
“Uncle.” Hate makes the word sound ugly. Without taking my eyes off my uncle, I draw the machine gun back once more and knock the soldier harder this time and when he stumbles to the floor, I let him drop.
“That was unnecessary,” Catalano says as the soldier scrambles back to his feet. “Hand over your weapons and come in.”
“Are you inviting me into my own warehouse?”
“Don’t make this ugly, Stefan.”
“Oh, I’m going to make this very ugly.”
“No weapons in the meeting. It was agreed upon.”
“I didn’t sanction a meeting. I agree to nothing.”
“Things have escalated beyond your control.” He gives a nod and more men step out of the shadows. We’re outnumbered, easily, and out-gunned by the size of their automatic weapons.