Going to him without a second thought, I held out my arms for Mia. She came straight to me, resting her head on my shoulder.
As soon as she was in my arms, my legs were close to collapsing.
All I wanted to do was close in on myself with her in my arms, shield her with my body, protect her with my heart. Sticking my nose in her hair, I inhaled so deeply that I was guaranteed to take in air and not pass out. I couldn’t seem to get her close enough.
We were not out of the woods yet.
Ettore had a hand on my back, assuring that Brando kept his word. He had never questioned it before, but we all knew he had crossed a line. I wasn’t sure if Brando’s word was strong enough to keep him alive.
“My wife,” Brando said, eyes hard on Ettore’s.
“No.” From there, Ettore lapsed into Italian. “Not until you hear me out. I did not come here to hurt your child. I was curious about her. Among so many boys, girls have always been celebrated in our family. They are rare. Your father is curious as well. He wants to know his grandchildren.”
Here Ettore’s eyes hardened to volcanic rock, but deep below their surface, I could see the inferno he kept hidden inside. I could feel it— he was as well versed in the art of hiding his feelings as Brando, as any of his blood.
“I tried to explain this to my aunt.” Ettore gave Aunt Lola another look and shook his head, turning to Uncle Tito. “Put the saw down, you old fool. I am not here to hurt anyone. I could have killed you with your weapon twice over. Along with these children. I have come to deliver a message.”
“Speak it,”Brando said.
He’d started to get more antsy. The quieter he became, the more unpredictable he became. Unlike a volcano, there was no warning, no change that would give warning that he was about to go off.
“There are too many ears here,” Ettore said, nodding toward the crowd.
“The office then,” Rocco said, nodding upstairs.
“All of you before us,” he said, the muzzle of a gun stabbing me in my back. “We will follow.”
* * *
Brando was only a step head.
He refused to put too much distance between the three of us. His shoulders were squared, his stance relaxed, but nothing had changed in my feelings. He was ready for retaliation.
If Brando took his uncle out of this world, though, Ettore would take me out on his way.
Reaching into his pocket with a free hand, Ettore retrieved a white handkerchief. He coughed into it, a sound that rattled his bones, and then made anacksound that made me almost gag. Bright red blood stained the clean fabric when he pulled it away.
He hurriedly stuck it back in his pocket after taking a quick glance at it.
“Ach!” Mia mimicked him, repeating the same noise, but she did it softer, somewhat quieter. She kept her head against my heart, tucking in tight, but she watched him from her protective perch.
She was a little parrot. She loved to mimic words and sounds and even behavior.
Brando stopped so quickly when she did it that we almost ran into him. He visibly tensed.
Ettore, forced to stop, stared at her for a second before he threw his head back and roared with laughter.
“Ack!” He made the noise again and so did she.
She was smiling shyly at him from behind my arms.
“Ah.” Ettore sighed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “A little angel? Or a small parrot? Both, ah?” he said in Italian to her.
Ettore made a funny face again and she smiled at him, showing all of her teeth.
“Upstairs!” Brando snapped in Italian, chucking his chin in the direction he wanted the stalled traffic to go in.
We all moved again, settling into his office. Ettore took two chairs and put them against the wall, close to the exit. He kept one hand on me.
