But I’ve never needed that much muscle to get my point across.
The man I just knocked over takes my arms, twists them behind my back, another begins to search me. They do the same to Lucas and machine guns are aimed on the rest of my men.
“Drop your weapons,” Catalano commands.
33
Gabriela
When Stefan leaves, the soldier takes my arm to walk me upstairs, but I yank it away.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me!”
He steps backward and I look at the closed study door. Is Rafa still here? What did he tell Stefan?
I walk toward it, but the soldier approaches. He doesn’t expect me to stop, to turn to him.
“Mr. Sabbioni said you’re to pack,” he says.
“I will,” I tell him. “I need to see Rafa first.”
“I don’t think—”
I don’t wait for him to finish but open the study door and enter to find Rafa sitting on the couch, two soldiers standing nearby.
He looks at me when I enter and again, I see what I’ve glimpsed more than once in his eyes. A regret. A deep sadness.
“I’m sorry,” he says to me. “I don’t know what I was thinking touching you like that.” He runs his hands through his hair. “Fuck.”
“Leave us alone,” I tell the soldiers.
They look at me and I’m not sure if they don’t understand English so I repeat my command in Italian.
Rafa seems surprised by this, as do the two men, but a moment later, we’re alone.
I sit on the couch.
“Aren’t you afraid of me?” he asks.
“No. I’m not. Not even a little.”
“He’s going to get himself killed.” He gets to his feet. “I need to go after him.”
“Where did he go? What did you tell him?”
He shakes his head, considers, then looks at me. “There’s a meeting. My father—Francesco Catalano—called it. They’re voting to remove Stefan from his position.”
I’m confused. Is that how this works?
When I don’t speak, Rafa continues, clarifying. “They’ll kill him, Gabriela.”
“And you let him go? Let him walk into that trap?”
“No. I came to warn him. I should have known he’d go himself, though. He’s just stubborn enough. You need to get out of here. They’ll come for you. For everyone in this house.”
“Does that include you?”
He looks up at the ceiling, shakes his head, then turns to me. “If I can get out of here, I can stop it.”
“Why are they doing this?”
“Power. Hate. You name it. Any ugliness you can think. I need to get to him, Gabriela. They’ll kill him. He doesn’t understand. Doesn’t know everything.”
“What doesn’t he understand? What doesn’t he know?”
He walks to the desk, opens a drawer, then another.
“What are you doing? You can’t go through Stefan’s desk.”
He finds what he’s looking for, a pistol, and, I assume, ammunition he pockets. “I need to go.” He looks at me, gets a strange look on his face as he approaches me. “I’m sorry, Gabriela,” he says, grabbing hold of me and whirling me around so my back is to his chest, the gun at my temple.
“Rafa!”
He opens the door and steps out, holding me as a shield as Stefan’s soldiers draw their weapons but stand impotently watching as Rafa cocks the gun.
“I’ll kill her. I’ll fucking kill her! And he’ll kill you if that happens.”
“Let me go!” I scream, scratching my nails into his forearm trying to pull him off as he drags me to the front door, and out of it, to the side of the house. More soldiers follow, drawing weapons, orders being yelled to halt, to not shoot as long as he has me.
A few moments later, we near a building I’ve not been inside and Rafa pushes the door open, forces me in, closes and locks it before releasing me.
“Are you crazy?”
I look around while rubbing my neck. We’re in a garage where Stefan’s Bugatti is parked. There’s another car under a cover, too. I’ve never been in here before.
“Stay here until I’m gone,” he tells me, walking to a small cabinet and opening it, choosing a key.
“You’re going after him! That was a trick!”
He opens the driver’s side door and before he can get in, I’m around the car and opening the passenger door.
“You’re not going with me. Get out.”
I shake my head, close the door. “You need me. I’m your hostage. Stefan’s soldiers will kill you before you make it to the property gates without me here.”
“Car’s bulletproof. Get out.”
“They’ll shoot the tires.”
“We don’t have time for this.”
Something rams against the door and the wood splinters.
“No, we don’t! Go!”
He’s out of time and out of choices as the next time they ram whatever it is they’ve got into the door, it opens.
“Get down!” Rafa yells as he hits the gas and we crash through the garage door and out onto the dirt road.
Machine guns fire but soon stop. They must know I’m in the car, too. It gives Rafa the edge he needs to get off the property, just making it through the still open gates before they close on him, the Bugatti bouncing and screeching as he hits the main road hard and we’re on our way.
34
Stefan
I’m not one to obey commands. Catalano must know this.
The man behind me twists my arms.
I lean my head forward then ram the back of it into his nose. I don’t have to turn around to see the damage. I hear it. And I felt it. I just broke his nose and he’s in a world of pain. As soon as my arms are free, I slam an elbow into his gut.
Rifles are aimed at me as I straighten, adjust my jacket sleeves and glare at Catalano.
“That was a mistake, Stefan,” he says as he raises his pistol inches from my face.
I grip his forearm and when he cocks the weapon, I aim it away.
“You’re outnumbered. Outmaneuvered,” he says.
“And you overestimate yourself.”
“You’ve always been a cocky son of a bitch.”
“I don’t take kindly to people who insult my mother.”
“Fuck you, Stefan. You piece of shit.”
“Stefan,” Lucas says.
I turn to find three men with weapons aimed at his chest and head.
Well, Catalano’s right that we’re outnumbered, at least for the moment, but we’re nowhere near outmaneuvered.
I give Catalano a smirk and let go of his forearm.
He takes a moment, probably trying to gauge if I’m going to break his nose the minute he puts his gun down.
I’m not.
“Francesco,” I say, my tone musical, my voice relaxed. Because men like him, I know. Men like him, I crush.
He uncocks his pistol and drops his arm but doesn’t put the gun away. “Cuff him,” he orders one of his men.