“He hung up on me. Is he coming back?”
“Y-yes,” I said, no longer able to keep the utter fear out of my voice. “He doesn’t look happy.”
“No, because he knows what’s in his immediate future.”
“I don’t think he cares,” I whispered.
Taylor snatched my arm. I was powerless to stop it. He yanked me forward and the phone dropped from my hands. I did fight him, though, cursing him every foul word I could think of, as though meanness could stop a monster. He lifted me up, feet dangling, attempting to cart me off. He didn’t take into consideration that I was a lot more slippery than I looked.
“Stop fighting!” He attempted to keep me from squirming, almost choking the air from my lungs. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want you to dance for me and my friends.”
A careless whistle came from the direction of the darkened shadows. The four men stopped, glancing in the direction it was coming from.
I narrowed my eyes and took a stab in the dark. “Aeden!” I shouted.Oh, thank God, Aeden the sailor!
“Hush now, love,” he said, giving me an easy smile. He gave the four monsters a genial nod, yet his eyes were as hard as steel, something about him as hot as the inferno that melts it. “The lady’d appreciate it if her feet could touch the ground. She’s a wee dancer, aye?”
“Who are you?” Taylor demanded.
He was so stunned by the sailor’s appearance that he slackened his hold on me. I slipped right through his grip, scrambling over to Aeden’s side. He tucked me behind him.
“I doubt we need to be on a first-name basis, seeing as you mean this wee dancer harm. She’s a friend, aye? I do have a question for ye. If it wouldn’t trouble ye all that much, that is.” He smiled, but it wasn’t cordial. It was full-on mocking.
“What?” Taylor spat at him. Spittle flew from his mouth and some of the droplets landed on my face.
“You are prepared to fight for this woman, but are you prepared to die for her?” Aeden said something after the question in Gaelic. “I am. I have commanded my soul to God in her honor.”
The three brutes alongside Taylor glanced at one another. One of them took a step forward. Aeden took a step back, pushing me with him.
“Correre se dico così.” Aeden said to me, stare hard on the four before him.Run if I say so.
“Sì,” I whispered.
“What’s your name, Miss?” The football player who had taken a step forward asked. He was polite. I guess the mob mentality was starting to simmer down.
Sticking my chin up, answering with a definite Italian accent, I said, “Fausti.”
The football player’s face went snow white in the night. All blood drained from it. “Taylor,” he said, low-voiced. “I thought you said her name was Poésy?”
“It is!” Taylor shot back.
“No,” I said. “Poésy was my maiden name. I’m Brando Fausti’s wife.”
“Fuck, Taylor!” The football player shoved him, hard. “Do you even have a clue? Or have you been living under a rock all of your life?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“A lover’s quarrel,” Aeden sang, in an eerie sort of tone. I half expected an Irish band to turn up, serenading the sinking ship.
“The Faustis! Shit,” the football player spat, turning around in a circle. He was big, but he started to realize not invincible. “Do you have any idea whatthosepeople do to their enemies? They’ll cut out a heart while the thing still beats in the chest it belongs to! This is not business. This is personal! One oftheirwives! Marzio Fausti? Luca Fausti? Ring any bells, fucking dumbbell? I could go on!”
Taylor shook his head.
“Mia nonno. Mia papà,” I said, giving him the mean eye, stabbing a finger at my chest to punctuate my words. “Mio marito è dello stesso sangue. Capisci?”
“What did she say?” the freaked-out football player said to Aeden.
He shrugged. “My grandfather. My father. My husband is of the same blood. Do you understand?”
