“It is the truth,” he said. “Just as I spoke the truth earlier, about, er, the filmMalèna,I am speaking the truth about this. He did not look well,SignorFausti.”
“Speak plainly,” I said.
He took a deep breath.“Pazzo,” he said. “SignorMassimo Fausti’s eyes reminded me of yours when your wife—the first one—was killed.”
Massimo. He had received permission from the current head of the family, my father, to be set free from the bars he had chosen for his life. He had not been respectful enough to request a call with me, or to be invited to my home, yet he trespassed on my land without permission. I love my sons equally, but they would respect me.
Massimo had not been the same since the love of his heart had double-crossed him. Chloe had left him after Rosaria had meddled in their lives, even attempting to kill Chloe. After this, in an attempt to hide from my son, she married another man. My son killed the man, stole his heart, and then turned himself over to a justice system that did not belong to us. My father allowed this, since he himself was in the same prison under similar circumstances.
This was a warning to me from my eldest son.
Massimo was home, and we were going to be at odds.
Perhaps he had saved my wife so that I would owe him a favor.
Only time would tell.
The soldier came with the second gun, and I nodded to Ermanno. The solider handed it to him and left us.
“You will become a part of my wife’s security detail,” I said to Ermanno. “You will report back to me as my soldiers do on all that you see and hear. This detail will stay between us.”
He looked up from the gun and narrowed his eyes at me. “Permission to speak freely,SignorFausti?”
I nodded. “Sì.”
“If I am in love withSignoraFausti, I do not believe time spent with her will do my cause justice.”
“You will survive,” I said.
My wife had offered this Ermanno Fausti grace, and she trusted him not to speak about my son to me. She had not mentioned Massimo and their encounter. If Massimo had killed thecinghialeand was not there to stand like a man in front of me after it had been done, not only was my son attempting to get to my wife, but he was walking behind me in silence. Ermanno would not raise suspicion as to why he was spending so much time with my wife.
Ermanno had lost his mother to sickness as a young child. It would do him good to be around my wife as a mother figure. It would also do him good regarding his status in this family.
It would also do me good to place him as a mole in my wife’s life. I trusted her with my love, my life, but when it came to personal matters between two men in this family—tradition ruled all.
A grunt came from behind us before a threatening growl. In a flash, the gun was in the proper position in my hands, the stock to my shoulder, thecinghialehitting the ground a moment laterin a cloud of burnt auburn leaves, a few billowing, rocking in the air, before settling underneath the hovering fog.
Perhaps at the same time I had been shooting thecinghiale,someone had mistaken me for a wild animal, and his gun had taken aim and hit me as well. It was a shoulder shot, the skin splitting open, but it did not pierce through.When I turned, Francesco was coming out of the woods, both of his hands held high. My eyes glanced to the right, at Ermanno, who had his gun trained on Francesco.
“That one,” Ermanno whispered, “we must watch,SignorFausti.”
My brothers all collected beside me, their guns trained on Francesco as well. His brothers were behind him, and their guns were trained on my brothers.
My father and his men came out of the wood. He ordered everyone to lower their guns, ordering us all to his walled city in Lucca by a certain date. He was mid-sentence when my wife exploded out of the wood, her hair flying in all different directions, her sweater hanging askew on her body, her jeans splattered with mud, along with her bare feet. Guido was a step behind her.
“She is fast,” he mouthed to me.
She hit me with force, and I absorbed the impact, lifting her off her feet some. No part of her should be stained as it was. Her hands were frantically on me, blood smearing her palm.
“It is only a flesh wound,” I assured her.
“Flesh,” she barely got out, keeping her hand on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Then she turned around, her eyes zeroing in on Francesco. “You did this on purpose!” If I would not have had a good grip on her, she was going after him. I had a feeling she would have tried to grab a gun to retaliate if I would have freed her.
Francesco’s father, Paolo, came out of the wood. “You see what is happening here, Luca! I demand a meeting at once!”
My father, as quickly as I had, pulled a smaller gun from his suspenders and shot Paoloin the foot. My wife gasped at the sudden blast, and her body stiffened before it became softer in my hands. She was not expecting it. No one demanded anything of my father, not unless it was his wife or his father.
“The meeting is set,” my father said, his tonefinale. “If you do not make it, Paolo,the case against my son will be dismissed.”
