One violent, clean cut across his throat, and this French bastard was done for. Blood spurted out of the wound like water from a busted water main.
We dove out of the windows a second before men hurried in at the sound of the woman’s piercing scream. Both of us disappeared underneath the sea, like two seals sliding into rocking oil, not coming up for air until we were well away and our boat had come to pick us up.
* * *
Rocco, Dario, Romeo, and Tito waited for us, along with Vincenzo, Guido, and the captain of the boat, a man I had saved years ago from drowning in the Bearing Sea. After Tito made sure we were both not bleeding out from the bullets whizzing through the water, I took a seat, wet hands fumbling in the bag I had brought along.
Rocco’s eyes were glued to me. He looked away—he knew I wouldn’t move mine first.
We had gotten into a fight, one that almost came to blows. My brothers were not used to being called to stand on the frontline. They were taught self-preservation for the good of thefamigliaafter they had proved themselves in the beginning.
Especially Rocco.
Rocco had been Luca’s first in charge, if I wouldn’t have come along. But I did. And then I had given up “my right” to lead in return for a life that would send my wife and me in another direction. It also meant that I didn’t have to follow their rules.
Rocco didn’t agree. He wanted me to leave the action to Donato and Vincenzo, the soldiers. But I’d be damned if these bastards didn’t get to see my face—the face of a husband out for vengeance.
Those no-good bastards stole my wife. Put a sack over her head and stuffed her in the back of a trunk. Then one of them cut her.They fucking cut her.I made a noise that came unbidden from my mouth. Every man on the boat looked at me. Maybe it was a growl.
Rocco turned back when everyone else did and stared out at sea as we sliced through the rolling waves. Dario, Romeo, and Guido all patted me on the back, but they kept their distance too. I hadn’t had much to say lately. Still, the six of them crowded around at Donato’s word, waiting to be briefed on the information we got from the French.
Donato took the lead, knowing I had nothing to say. All I could do was stare at the picture clutched in my hands. A picture Violet had taken of my wife and me in Positano. I had convinced Scarlett to swim with me. She didn’t do much swimming. It was more like she’d hitch a ride on my back. After she was satisfied with how much we had explored, I swung her around to my front, and she wrapped her legs around my waist. The cool sea came above my hips, liquid marble against the bright sun, which fell across my back in a blanket of heat.
She wore a headscarf, her Ray-Bans, and a bathing suit I had given her hell over. The tail end of the scarf barely skimmed the water. Her arms came under my arms, cool hands a gentle caress. Her forehead tilted forward for me to kiss. My eyes were closed as my lips touched the warmth of her skin. Goosebumps rose on my flesh as the cool water slid down my back. The cross around her neck touched my chest from being so close to hers. The mountains were tall figures in the distance.
Violet had done the picture in black and white to give it a more moody, romantic vibe, she had said. I had found it in our journal, the journal we both contributed to, ourBeautiful Years. Scarlett had other pictures tucked in there too—she was a picture fanatic. She could pick the best photos, the ones that made you stare at them for a while because they made you feel something.
This one made me feel something, but she made me feel everything.
I used a piece of fabric to wipe away a droplet of water that landed on the paper. It was from the last dress I had seen her in. When we found it, it was stained with my heart’s lifeblood.
Aurélien. The name spoken from Vincenzo’s mouth made me take notice. As much as I hated to admit it, Vincenzo was more like me, especially quiet when something heavy weighed on his mind, unless something had to be said. So for him to say something, and in a way that made me lift my brows in question, I knew it was bad news.
Vincenzo ran a hand over his head and then turned in a circle for a moment, the way people do when they don’t know how to react, or are attempting to tame the reaction down. He had a fiery temper he could control, but I could tell he was close to madness. None of these men were accustomed to losing one of our own. I wasn’t fucking accustomed to losing my wife—ever.
I cleared my throat. Every man turned his attention to me. I felt the hesitation. “Tell me,” I ordered, no question about it.
“Aurélien is terrible news,fratello,” Romeo said.
“Aren’t they all,” I said with no trace of humor.
Vincenzo shook his head. Rocco turned his back, staring out at the sea again. Dario took a seat next to me.
Donato looked as if he were debating with himself. “He is more, ah, ruthless than the rest. I do not like that this has become a game to him. Nemours is his enemy, unless they are against another team. Nemours is a disappointment to him. Always messing up. Now your wife has become the game. Aurélien must die.”
“Soon,” Dario said.
Tito nodded to himself, looking pensive.
“I will kill him,” Vincenzo said.
“Vincenzo had a run-in with him,” Donato explained. “It is more personal for him.”
“Not only him, not any longer,” I said.
“It is a blessing that he killedil sanguisuga,” Tito said, almost to himself. He had his thoughtful face on. “The other was able to take her. I do not like either having her, mind, but she is safer with them. Spataro has use for her. Aurélien does not. Except for his game with Nemours.”
Spataro was one of the most ruthless leadersle sanguisugheever had. He couldn’t touch the Faustis—no one compared to them—but what good was the name if the power behind it was being withheld? Yeah, Lothario refused my request for aide. So if my wife was safer under Spataro’s umbrella—
