44. Matilde
Matilde
Ugo is heavy on top of me while the rapid bursts of gunfire continue.
The children are both wailing, and all I can do is whisper, ‘Shush, shush, shush,’ in their little ears, over and over.
We’re like frightened hens, just waiting for the foxes to find a weakness in our coop.
Horrible memories of my captivity swarm to the forefront with my fear and helplessness, but I have to do… something.
“Wake up, love. You’re having a nightmare.”
My mind is still fuzzy with sleep when Nico flicks on the bedside lamp.
Amadeo kicks his feet, smoky gray eyes popping open with the brightness.
Beside him, Lucia smacks her lips in her sleep.
So precious, they’ll forget the horror we lived through yesterday, but I couldn’t bear to separate at bedtime.
“I didn’t expect to sleep,” I murmur in Italian, still too drowsy for English as the nightmare fades. “What time is it?”
“Early. Not quite six.” Nico is propped up against the headboard of the king-sized bed. He promised he’d watch over us. His bloodshot eyes and yesterday’s rumpled clothes tell me he did just that. I caress Amadeo’s arm, earning a sweet little smile.
The attack ended shortly after reinforcements arrived. The culprits either didn’t expect as much resistance or they’d made their point by firing at the Chicago Capo’s wife, children and mother in broad daylight. The ones who could fled. The rest died.
Before I fully comprehended it was over, Nico was already there, checking me and the children for injuries with Dante at his back.
“La polizia?”
“I called my best contact in the department when the doc was checking you over. The FBI and Chicago PD have some inter-agency bad blood at the moment, and no one informed the Feds until everything was handled,” Nico replies in a wooden tone.
“Do you know who-”
“A couple of the ones we killed had tattoos, but nothing tying them to the Trio or Bratva. We're looking into it. Probably hired hitters from De Luca, like that bastard brother of his.”
I can't imagine Alessio doing this, but Nico doesn’t want to hear anyone defending him. “Is there no one else?”
He grimaces. “My father’s lucidity is fading as his illness progresses.
Cosima happened upon him alone in his study yesterday morning.
She's always kissed his ass, and when she offered to buy him some cigars since he couldn’t find any in the house, he gave her the keys to his car and some cash, not understanding the danger she poses.
By the time the guards realized what had happened, she’d slithered away.
I’ll question Vera Barzetti later, but Cosima’s connections would be limited with her father, husband and son already dead. ”
An uneasy feeling stirs in my belly with her name. “She might have had some other connections through her father. He was a captain, yes?"
""In Cincinnati. It's where she grew up before her arranged marriage to Barzetti."
"She said her father had trusted men there, men who act as her bodyguards now. She mentioned something about them being different."
"Different? My uncle's the Underboss there. We killed her father during the purge of the traitors but… I'll look into it."
"What about your mother’s bodyguard?”
“Died overnight from his wounds. Along with Enio.”
"Enio?" Tears fill my eyes. I knew he’d been shot more than once, but I’d hoped he would survive. “I’m sorry, Nico. I wish they had stayed safe in the car with us.”
Nico’s expression is stone. “They didn’t know if the backup would be enough. They did their duty. I’ll pay my respects to their families before we leave this morning.”
They died for us. Will the word duty bring comfort to their loved ones?
“Has your mother changed her mind about today?”
“No,” he scoffs. “I’m Capo, but she says I’m still her son, and she won’t leave my father.”
“Have you changed your mind about us?”
“Absolutely not.”
Like Zeta, I don’t want to leave my husband’s side at such a time, but I know nothing I say will sway him. Not today at least.
“Why don’t you feed him and finish packing?” he suggests, nodding at Amadeo. “I need to shower and shave, but I’ll give Lucia her bottle.”
After the heated gazes at night and warmth he’s displayed around our little family recently, I might be disheartened by the chilly and remote mob boss in my bed this morning if I hadn’t seen the fear yesterday or the mountain of guilt that lingers in his eyes.
I don’t know how to convince him this wasn’t his fault, no more than Caterina’s marriage or Margareta’s death was.
Simply being his puts a target on my back.
Worse, it puts one on our children’s. That doesn’t mean I don’t consider him worth it.
“Our world is full of danger,” I say when he stands. “I grew up knowing that, but I want you to know I’m glad to be your wife.”
He swallows, thickly, before the cold mask returns. “Get dressed. We’ll need to leave before long.”
***
“You’re squeezing him,” Nico clips, and Maddalena loosens her hold on a fussy Amadeo. I give her a soft smile, understanding she’s nervous in the helicopter as she’s not too sure of flying yet.
She was a mess yesterday when she heard about the attack.
She hasn’t raised any argument about our temporary move to the country, and I’m glad she’ll be with me.
Her lessons can continue just as easily here, and Primo is one of the guards joining us.
Unfortunately, Ersilia will remain in Chicago along with Nunzia. I’ll miss their motherly presence.
The sheep scatter when the helicopter touches down in the pasture, but Leone waits with a grim smile. “Your kids, Nikki?” he asks, glancing at the twins.
“Yes. Amadeo and Lucia. And this is my sister-in-law, Maddalena.”
“Twins and twins. If you knock Matilde up, maybe you’ll have quadruplets.”
“Very funny,” my husband deadpans.
Leone tickles Amadeo under his chin and gets the judgy little scowl that makes him snort. “He's yours, alright. Let’s get them inside,” he says, wasting no more time on greetings.
The roar of the fireplace and smell of bacon and coffee revives my spirits.
Yana, the last remaining girl that was rescued from the warehouse, is frying eggs, and she wipes her hands on her apron to greet me, Maddalena, and the babies.
She's from Latvia originally and asked to remain at the farm to cook and clean for Leone until she can enroll in a university here. Leone agreed.
Over breakfast, my husband and his uncle discuss the number of guard dogs, new gate procedures and their plan to erect a watch tower.
“Maybe you should dig a moat, too,” Maddalena suggests, trying to lighten the mood.
“Matilde, join me outside. Be sure to bundle up,” Nico says, brusquely.
On the front porch, I defend my sister. “She was not being serious. She only wanted-”
“I know. I want forty-five minutes alone with you.”
“Only forty-five?” I ask, trying to draw a smile out of him.
He glares at the horizon, shaking his head before reaching for my gloved hand. “Come.”
Along a dirt lane covered with a hard shell of frozen snow, we walk, my toes quickly succumbing to the cold in my fashionable leather boots.
A sharp wind finds its way up my sweater dress.
A farm girl should know to wear better clothes for the conditions here, but everything I’ve bought since our marriage was to fulfill my role as a Capo’s wife.
“Are you alright?” Nico asks, noticing my mincing steps.
“It’s cold, and I don’t want to slip.”
With a nod, he scoops me up with one arm under my thighs in a fluid movement that leaves me breathless. “Better?”
My arms circle his neck, and I savor his scent and closeness. “Grazie.”
“Prego.”
He slips back into silence after that, and I do, too, trying to read his expression and sort through my emotions.
He decided Maddalena, the children and I would live at the farm until he deems it safe for us to return.
I didn’t argue. The danger is too real for me to pretend I know better, but I worry for him, and I worry he’s going to pull away from me again after we’d started making real progress as a couple.
“You’ll listen to Leone and the guards. No sneaking off. No going places they forbid, capito?”
No matter how tempting it is to tease him, yesterday is too fresh in my mind. “I will obey their rules. I wish you would stay with us.”
“How would that look? I may as well have handed the territory to Barzetti on Christmas Eve. We’re almost there.”
“Almost where?”
Glancing at our surroundings, I realize our dirt lane is now under a canopy of thick trees, evergreens cloaked in their snowy white coats and tall deciduous varieties naked and swaying in the breeze.
Then, I hear water. A melodious, rippling sound.
Past a few pines, we reach a wide and swift stream tumbling over sharp rocks until it pools about twenty feet below.
His cascades. He brought me to see it, feeding my hope when I needed it most this morning.
As he sets me back on my feet, my heart is pounding as though I haven’t been carried the past ten minutes.
Snow kisses the muddy banks, but the same moss and indigo shades in his painting are visible in the rocks and trees at the edge. A streak of red catches my eye, a Cardinal perched on a twig that hangs over the icy cold water. “Does it freeze?”
“Some winters, it does,” Nico says, leaning down to retrieve a rock and skip it over the widest part of the stream. “In the summer, we would wade in that pool down there, usually trying to dunk each other within an inch of drowning.”
I smile at the idyllic image, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I’m going to miss you, Nico.”
“I will miss you, tesoro. And the children."
He dips down to claim a deep and languid kiss, taking his time to tease me with his tongue and stir my desires. The thought of him leaving me for who knows how many days leaves me desperate for a happy memory to cling to during the separation.