That morning. After the footprints.
So did I.
We started swinging on each other.
It was hard to land punches when the men we battled were just like us. My brother was no exception. He was as fast as a lightning strike with the intensity of rolling thunder when he landed a punch. It was best to avoid Marciano’s punches at allcosts. Tiring him out was an option, with the occasional hit, but he was almost as vigorous as me.
It wasn’t until both of our noses were bleeding, and we’d both have bruises, that I realized an audience had collected around us. Angelo and some of the men.
When Marciano noticed it, he stepped out of my reach and went for Angelo. Angelo had been standing with his arms crossed, legs apart, eyes focused. Blood drew my family in. Made them hungry to take part in the challenge. To be in the ring, throwing punches, almost willing to take a punch so that the adrenaline would rush, and they could feel a surge of hot blood take hold.
Angelo was not prepared for Marciano.
Marciano hit him with enough speed and power to knock him into next fucking week. Angelo recovered quickly, even if he was hurting. I wasn’t sure if he’d be limping down the aisle.
My heart was still racing. My muscles almost seizing. I had to keep my arms folded to stop from lashing out at the man next to me. He refused to meet my eyes for good reason. The scent of my own blood was in my nose, and it was making me hungry for more.
I walked closer to where the two men were battling it out. Angelo was strong, but I knew Marciano could take him down. I had an idea of what this was about, but I would speak to Marciano personally after I called the fight.
“Abbastanaza!”Enough!I gave the order.
The two men separated, hierarchy so ingrained in them that one word snapped them apart. They were both breathing heavy. Not from exhaustion but from the high of the fight.
I ordered Angelo to his cottage. I’d be by to pick him up in a while.
He went to walk off when I called his name. He stopped.
“Do not allow the women to see you this way,” I spoke in Italian. “Your bride will not take it well.”
Neither would mine, but I held the thought to myself. I ordered all the men to follow Angelo but to spread out along the lines of the property that needed to be secured. Rio had gotten the property lines before I arrived. We went over strategic placement of men. I didn’t realize how important this would be until the name Rattler came up. Iggy was contained for now. Lev had eyes on him from all sides.
My hands tightened into fists when Rio had last updated me on Iggy. He was going fucking insane looking for my wife.
A smile slowly came to my face at her title in my life.
My wife.
Soon enough, the world would know that Sistine Evita was mine.
Sighing, I went to deal with the big fucking man who was still looking at me with intent in his eyes. He was furling his fists and unfurling them in punctuated intervals.
“This isn’t Italy, Mariano,” he said calmly, coolly, but underneath the armor, Vesuvius was going off.
“I know where we fucking stand, but I’m still your older brother. Doesn’t matter where we are in the world. When I call a fight, I call it. No bride wants a mangled groom on her wedding day. Atta still might kick your fucking ass.”
“You fucking told Angelo but not me! He was there. I know he was. I’m not stupid, Mariano. I’m more than my fucking muscles. My brain is stronger, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. You’re both wearing rings on the appropriate fingers.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Right there. That’s all I’m getting from you, which equals toniente.You’re my brother.” He hit his chest. “I’ve always looked up to you. Matteo is too far up the family’s ass to bother withme. Maestro is in his own world most of the time. Mia is married with babies. I thought it was you and me. I thought we were tight. Take the family out of it. Just brothers. Like we are in Natchitoches.” He flung a hand up, turning and walking off.
“Marciano.” He kept walking. “Stop, motherfucker.”
He did, his shoulders high and tight.
“You’re my little brother,” I said. “I don’t want you involved in the situation I’m in. Not now. Understand what I’m saying?” I had no fucking clue what kind of storm my wife and I would face in Italy once we returned married. I didn’t want my brother involved.
His shoulders fell, and my heart hurt when he said in a low tone, “I bet Spicy Sissy looked beautiful in her dress.”
