Scott Stone stumbled a few steps back, clutching his throat, gulping for air.
The sheriff was bandaged and stitched up. In the dimness of the holding cell, his true lines seemed to come forward, showing a man older than his number, all the hidden ghosts of grief that hid behind his facade visible in the darkness.
Everett came in behind him, taking Scarlett’s arm in his hand, checking it out.
“This has all gone too far, Stone,” he said in a voice I’d never heard him use before. “No one needs to touch my daughter, or my grandson—you’re lucky it wasn’t me at the park. We had a deal—”
The Sheriff lifted his hand. “There’s no deal, Everett.” He almost smiled. “That ended when I pulled some strings to have the demon released. There’s nothing you or his bastard son can hold over my head anymore.”
Antonio took a few steps forward, coming to stand next to me. His English might have been broken, but he was smart enough to know that the sheriff considered Luca Fausti a demon in the flesh. If this conversation continued, and the insults kept flowing, Antonio might reach out and attempt to grab the sheriff by the throat.
“True,” Everett said. “But you had no right putting your hands on my grandson. I have pictures of his ear. I’m prepared to go higher than you.”
“If that makes you feel better, do you, Everett.”
“No,” Scarlett said, taking a step forward. Her father put his arm up, but she ignored him. “I’llgo higher than you if you ever put your hands on any of my children again. It’s not the law I’m talking about either. This has always been personal. You’ll answer tome.”
The sheriff stared at her, his eyes assessing. But there was no need to gauge her seriousness, though I got the feeling he’d found something in her that pleased him. She had just threatened his life, if he ever decided to hurt one of her children again, and he knew she meant it. Therefore, in his eyes, maybe her reaction had solidified the fact that she was a good mamma.
She took a step closer to the sheriff, and her eyes were unwavering. “My son—his name is Matteo Leone Fausti, Sheriff—experienced his first taste of violence from a stranger. An innocent child who had done nothing to deserve what he received. I’ll never forget the look on his face, Sheriff, and I’ll never forget that you were the one who put it there.”
A flash of something I’d never seen before came into his eyes before it dimmed. I wasn’t sure if it was shame, exactly, but something close. He knew she’d never forget it, but he also wouldn’t truly acknowledge it for all of us to see either. His issues with the Fausti family went much deeper than this and couldn’t be erased by this thing he did to one of our kids.
“Hell hath no fury like a mother who feels her kids are being threatened,” he said, proving my feeling right. He knew she was a good mamma. “I was wrong, but I’m not discussing the situation with you. Just know that your feelings have been noted.” He removed keys from his pocket and opened the cell door. “You,” he said to Antonio, “can go.”
“My son?” Everett asked.
“Your son?” The sheriff went to scoff but thought better of it, since he wasn’t the only one who lost a son that night. Everett had, too, in the same accident, and even though they had their issues, it was something they understood about each other. “He can go too. As long as we can agree that we’re even. I won’t press charges as long as he won’t.”
Scott Stone went to protest, but the Sheriff held a stiff hand up, silencing him.
“Fine,” Scarlett said, agreeing before I could consider the situation.
The sheriff nodded at me. “I want a word with you first.”
“As long as someone is—”
“Scarlett,” I said, interrupting her, which I rarely did. “Wait for me out front,” I said in Italian.
The fear in her eyes was clear—leaving me alone with him made her nervous. For his benefit or mine, I wasn’t sure.
She clasped the cross around her neck, her knuckles turning white. “If something else happens from this meeting, you will answer to me, Fausti,” she said in Italian.
I nodded once, acknowledging the real threat of her words. A fierce desire to reach out and touch her skin grabbed me, but I fought it off. I’d need a shower before I touched her.
Chris came back to escort my wife, Everett, and Antonio out.
“You too, nephew,” the sheriff said, keeping his eye on me but addressing Scott Stone. “And stay away from Mrs. Fausti, understood?”
Scott Stone left in a huff, cursing on his way out.
The sheriff and I regarded one another for a moment before he cleared his throat.
“You and your family are here to stay?”
“As it stands now.” I shrugged. “Yeah.”
He seemed to absorb this, keeping his face neutral.
