Francesca
I sat at the dining table and waited.
The light faded from the windows until sunset made the sky glow with brilliant colors.
Being worried about Wolfe gave me a momentary reprieve from my grief, so I felt a strange sort of relief.
My father was gone and could never return, but Wolfe was still alive.
And with every beat of my heart, I worried it would be his last.
My phone sat on the table in front of me so I wouldn’t miss a call or a text.
I’d been worried about Wolfe before, but this was on a different level. I felt heartbroken, like I’d already lost him.
My phone finally lit up with a call, and all of my insides were thrown sideways as if I’d been struck by a semi. I snatched it, felt it slip through my fingers slightly, and immediately smashed my finger into the screen to take the call before I put the phone against my ear. “Tell me you’re okay.”
There was a long pause over the line.
“Wolfe?”
“Uh, it’s Leo.”
I pulled the phone away from my face and squinted at the name on the screen. It was a number I didn’t recognize. I returned the phone to my ear. “Why are you calling me?” I blurted, not caring about him or anyone else in the world right now.
There was another heavy pause. “I—I want you to know how sorry I am—”
“Don’t call me again.” I hung up and put the phone back on the table. I wasn’t angry at my brother, felt nothing toward him at all right now. I just needed to hear from Wolfe—and Leo could die for all I cared.
Leo didn’t call back, like I’d asked.
The screen turned black, and I sat in the dark as the sun dipped farther below the horizon.
The phone lit up, and Wolfe’s name was on the screen.
On my way home.
“Oh Cristo…” My palms immediately planted on my face, and I released a choked sob that seemed to come from nowhere. I cried into my hands and then forced in a deep breath to steady myself, the relief soothing me more than the tears on my cheeks.
It had been so hard to sit there all these hours and not text or call for an update. But if I did call or text, he would answer, under the assumption it was an emergency, and that distraction could get him shot. So I had to practice a monk-like restraint and wait…and wait.
I finally lowered my hands and tapped the screen to read the message a second time.
On my way home.
I watched his location until it arrived at headquarters. I wasn’t sure how long he’d be there, and all that mattered was that he was okay, but I still wanted to hear his voice. Wanted to know he was unhurt.
My patience expired and I called.
He answered right away, the sound of voices loud around him like he was still in the car or in the house. “Hey, baby. I’m not hurt.”
I closed my eyes as I sighed again. “Not a scratch?”
“Not a scratch.”
“Cristo. I was so worried. Did you kill Icarus?”
He hesitated. “We’ll talk when I get home.”
“Alright.” Emotion escaped my throat when I spoke again.
“I love you.” I’d known him for a few months, and he’d become such a part of me.
If I lost him, I wouldn’t be able to look at the sky again.
I wouldn’t be able to breathe again. My family had meant the world to me, but he’d somehow become more even though we didn’t share the same blood.
“Love you too, baby,” he said before he hung up.
I’d fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him.
I heard his footsteps up the stairs and then opened my eyes to see him emerge in the well-lit room. A couple lamps were on, so I could see clearly. The sight of him struck me with adrenaline that made me jump off the couch and nearly trip on the blanket. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
A smile entered his eyes as he reached for me. “Everything’s alright.” He squeezed me and brushed a kiss across my forehead. “Relax.”
I pulled away so I could look him over, head to toe. I saw no sign of injury.
“I said not a scratch, didn’t I?” he asked with his typical smirk.
“What happened?”
He turned toward the kitchen. “I’m starving and need a drink first.”
I joined him in the kitchen and opened the fridge. “I have some leftover pasta from lunch yesterday.”
“I’ll take it.” He opened the cabinet, grabbed a big bottle, and poured himself a glass of scotch. He added a couple of ice cubes before he took it to the table.
I reheated his food and served it to him with a linen napkin and utensils.
He immediately started to scarf down his food across from me, eating the jumbo prawns with the pappardelle pasta.
I let him eat for a couple minutes, knowing how foul his mood could get when he was hungry. His body was probably crashing from the adrenaline dump he’d experienced. I knew exactly how that felt.
He wiped his mouth of the sauce. “It was a setup.”
“What does that mean?”
“Ciro called Don Russo under duress. Made it sound like a battle was about to take place, but he’d already been captured, along with the rest of his men and his family. I’m not sure what Icarus offered him to get him to comply, but whatever it was, it was a lie.”
“They’re dead, then?”
He nodded. “We did what we could, but we were outnumbered and fucked. Icarus laid his trap, and we walked right into it. I should have seen it coming, but I was following orders.”
“Did anyone in Cosa Nostra die?”
“Just a couple of injuries. We intended to run for it, but Icarus’s men—more like his militia—had us pinned down. Said he wanted to have a conversation, so I stepped forward and had that conversation.”
“Why you and not the don?” I blurted.
He shrugged. “In the moment kind of decision.”
“Wolfe.” I didn’t want my man needlessly risking his life for someone else.
“Trust me, I made the right decision. If it’d been Don Russo, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
“Then he shouldn’t be running Cosa Nostra.”
“Probably not, but that’s not up to me.”
When Don Russo told me that Wolfe should be the one running Cosa Nostra, it was clear he’d thought about it for a while. And now it was clear he wanted that transfer of power to happen sooner rather than later. “Then what happened?”
“We sat on two piece-of-shit chairs outside a warehouse on a farm…and talked.”
I stared at him across the table, watched him take a few more bites of my leftover food before he seemed finished.
“Icarus is a nutcase,” he said simply. “His motivations are unclear, which is why he’s so lethal. It seems like he plays the game just for the thrill of it.”
“Like you.”
“Not quite,” he said. “I don’t kill people for fun.
” He pushed his empty plate aside then took a drink from his glass.
“We had a long conversation, and he basically said we could yield to the Skull King and lose thirty percent of our profits—or he’ll kill us all.
I said we were open to negotiation, and he obviously wasn’t. ”
“And he just let you go?”
“Said he would give me time to reconsider. Said he would take down all the gangs one by one until Cosa Nostra is the last one standing. And then he’ll come for us next.”
“If he wants Cosa Nostra gone, why didn’t he just kill all of you, then?”
He stared at his drink for a moment before he gave a slow shrug. “Said he liked me.”
“He liked you?” I asked with slight incredulity.
“He respected me, is probably a better way of phrasing it.”
“What did you say to make him feel that way?”
“I didn’t show fear. Talked shit straight to his face. Didn’t cave to his demands.”
“But you’re making his job more difficult.”
He gave another shrug. “Everyone in this business appreciates a challenge. Appreciates that rush of adrenaline that brings you so close to death you appreciate life. I suspect he sees me as his equal and wants the game to last a little longer. I’d heard from multiple people that we’re similar… and we are.”
“He sounds like a psychopath.”
“As am I,” I said. “But you haven’t seen that side of me.”
“I think I have.”
A slight smirk moved on to his lips. “No, not really. The butcher doesn’t carve the meat in front of the customer.”
I remembered his wrath when he’d arrived at the house to save me in the shootout. Leo had mentioned what Wolfe had done to the men he’d captured, when he hung them from the tree on our property, the tree he told me not to look at. That seemed violent enough. “So, what now?”
“Pretty straightforward,” he said. “Kill Icarus before he kills us.”
“And what about the Skull King? Won’t you have to deal with him?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
I was asleep and snuggled into Wolfe’s side when I felt him start to shift away. I jerked awake and opened my eyes, and I squeezed his arm before it could leave my grasp. “Where are you going?” I blurted as I sat up in bed.
His smirk was audible in his voice. “The bathroom.”
“Oh.” I forced my hand to release him. I noticed the light coming through the curtains, as if it was early in the morning.
He chuckled before he left the bed and disappeared from view.
I lay back down, my eyes dead tired but too stubborn to close. He’d come home close to midnight, and we hadn’t gone to sleep for a couple of hours. I think I was exhausted from all the worrying I did.
He returned minutes later, and I latched on to him all over again, snuggled right into his side, using his shoulder as my pillow. Once I felt his heat and the drumming of his heartbeat in his chest, I relaxed again.
He chuckled.
“What?”
“You’re all over me.”
“I don’t care.” I didn’t care if I smothered him too much or if he needed space from my neediness. I had just been so worried that he might not return to me this time.
“I’m not complaining.” He turned toward me and brushed a kiss against my hairline. “You can be all over me all you want.”
“Good. Because I’m going to be.”
“I should put myself in danger more often…”
“That’s not funny,” I whispered.
He brushed another kiss against my hairline before he turned on his side to face me.
He grabbed my leg and hiked it over his hip, his expression serious now.
He snaked his hand into my hair, cupping my cheek and part of my neck.
In the low light that peeked through the curtains, he held my gaze, gently caressing the corner of my mouth with his thumb.
I wasn’t sure how long we lay together like that, the light slowly filling our bedroom as the sun rose higher over the island. It seemed to be a lifetime, but it also seemed to be no amount of time at all.
“I’ve never had anyone to worry about me.”
My eyes softened with a twinge of sadness.
“If I’d died, I’d have been replaced and quickly forgotten. When I faced Icarus, I was far more aware of my mortality than I’d ever been. The stakes were higher because I knew you were waiting for me. I’d always had a purpose, but my life lacked meaning. Now you’re what gives my life meaning.”
I was paralyzed by the depth of his words, seeing a new facet of him he hadn’t revealed before.
“Now I understand why I was the ruthless, savage, insane Cosa Nostra lieutenant—because I had nothing to lose. My life never mattered to me before you. I didn’t care if I died young.
I actually preferred it. But now…the stakes are so high.
I used to chase the adrenaline to feel alive, and I had to pursue increasingly more dangerous tasks to get that same hit.
But now, leaving you home alone is enough to give me that adrenaline, and it’s a sickly feeling. ”
My eyes flicked back and forth between his as I stared into his eyes in the dark. “You’ve settled back in Cosa Nostra so well, I thought you liked it.”
“Cosa Nostra is my life, and those habits have never left me.”
“But…do you like it?”
He considered the question for a long time as he stared at me. “I don’t understand your question.”
My conversation with Don Russo came back to me. I started to wonder if I was a wedge between Wolfe and what he truly desired. “If we get the vineyard back, would you want to stay with Cosa Nostra?”
“I only agreed to work with them to get the vineyard back.”
“Why won’t you answer the question?”
His eyes hardened slightly. “Whatever our future holds, that’s a decision we’ll make together.”
“So you do enjoy being with Cosa Nostra again?”
His eyes narrowed on mine as he tried to read me. “It’s where I’ve belonged my whole life, except for the past few months. I harbored a lot of resentment toward them because of what they did, but my actions today show me there’s still a lot of loyalty there. But it’s different now…because of you.”