Chapter 4 #2
Carlo and Nick gave me stormy glances. “Asher has infiltrated Raul's organization. He's in,” Nick said as he sat back in his chair.
I knew two things for sure.
Raul was one of the worst assholes out there. We needed to get rid of him—yesterday.
And I also knew that Asher was a goddamn badass. How he managed to not only find—but also join Raul's band of assholes—I'd never understand.
“He did in a month what we've been trying to do for decades,” Carlo reaffirmed. Not that he had to. We all knew the state of things with Raul Ramiro.
He wanted to take over our—organization. Had for many years. He'd even tried once or twice. Of course, we'd stopped any and all of his antics. Tightened things up. And made doubly fuckin' sure to always keep an eye on Raul.
He wasn't the only asshole we had to worry about. When your family was as high up as ours—there were always several threats to deal with.
And we dealt with them.
I took a calming breath and peered out at Carlo's barn. Where I'd been shot. Trying to save Eve and Giselle from Sergio. Luckily, Sergio was no longer breathing.
But shit had gotten real bad, real quick out there.
Living the life we lived—well, we knew the consequences.
Even as teenagers, we knew.
It hadn't deterred any of us from this life, though. Quite the opposite.
We took it on like the challenge it was. And mastered it.
“Now do you understand why we didn't pull Asher?” Nick asked me directly.
I rolled my head around on my neck, hearing snapping and crackling like I was some kind of children's breakfast cereal. I really needed to start working out. I'd lost so much muscle tone since the shooting. And sitting around feeling sorry for myself wasn't going to help that.
“And once again,” I stared back at Nick, leveling my gaze on him, “I'm telling you. That if it had been Giselle or Eve, you would have pulled him.” I stated the truth these two men knew in their hearts was correct.
Because I knew the kind of relationships they had with their women.
Hell, I knew the relationships—I—had with their women.
And I understood where they were coming from.
But what I needed to get through to them was the fact that Francesca counted, too.
She deserved the same amount of attention.
Carlo sat back in his chair and observed me for a moment before he spoke, “So, what you're saying is—” he cleared his throat, “that Francesca is on the same level as Eve and Giselle?” His eyebrows rose—but not in an asshole way. More—curious.
I nodded. “That's what I'm saying, Brother.” The last word slipped out by—accident? I hadn't been sure I'd ever address Carlo as my brother again. Not after what had happened between us. But—apparently my mind had been ready to call him my brother again.
The side of his mouth turned up, and I swore—his eyes grew slightly watery. “Fuck me.” His eyes stayed glued to mine. He didn't even blink. “You're in love with her.”
Nick drew in a long breath and sighed. He steepled his fingers together in front of his lips and nodded. “I see. And yet—” Nick jerked his head, “she left you.”
Once again, I clenched my fists at my sides, holding myself back from what I really wanted to do. And that was—punch Nick's face in.
“She's fuckin' scared. That's all.” I glared back at him. Asshole.
His eyes narrowed. “Does she—know about—us? About the lives we lead?” Nick asked a stupid question. And that made me want to punch him even more.
I let out a sarcastic laugh. “I didn't lay it all out for her. No. But I'm sure she inferred things from the bullet wound in my chest that nearly killed me.”
Nick's eyes dropped to the table and his hands slid to the arms of his chair. “Fair enough. So, Francesca knows.” His head tilted from one side to the other. “But not fully. What you're saying is—” he cleared his throat, “that she's running scared?”
A pain ripped through my stomach just thinking about Francesca being scared of anything. “I believe so. I know she loves me just as much as I love her.”
Nick's lips flattened. “And yet, she still ran off.”
Fuck.
Nick could be a real piece of shit sometimes.
I loved this man like a brother, but I swear to—fuck.
I took a deep breath and said, “How many times did Giselle and Eve run?” I threw right back at him.
Probably stirring up memories he and Carlo would rather forget ever happened.
But—fuck him. Fuck them for insinuating Francesca took off because she didn't love me.
Nick swallowed and stood. He looked down at me.
“Asher stays in Italy. We need that information or else we could all be next in line for a bullet to the chest.” His eyes briefly dropped to my chest before hitting my eyes again.
“We'll pull other guys to find Francesca. But you have to be prepared for this to take a while.” He'd said the words I'd been fearing in my gut since the minute I'd learned Francesca had left me.
I didn't have anyone watching her. I hadn't so much as put a tracker in her shitty brown car.
I didn't know where she might head to next.
She hadn't talked about her family. Or any friends.
And it wasn't like she had a lot of funding to go anywhere.
Fuck.
Thinking about Francesca out there with no money—and no food. And no roof over her head.
Fuck.
I started spiraling.
“Stefan,” Nick called my name as his finger dug into the table. “We will find her. I just wanted to prepare you. Timewise. The chances that we'll find her quickly are low. But with more men on her, we will find Francesca.” He said those words so convincingly, it had me almost believing him.