I have done everything I could conceivably do to make Chicago safer for my family. My fear over losing them will always be with me, but I have to learn to manage that. Otherwise, I don’t deserve to be Capo or call myself her husband.
Making up my mind, I call Dante. “I’m going to ask you to handle things here tomorrow. I’m going to visit the farm… and then I’m bringing my family home.”
“About damn time. I miss the rugrats.”
46
Matilde
April sunshine and wildflowers make the cascades spilling over their rocks sound merrier than they did on that snowy February day when Nico claimed me here. That heated memory is tinged with the cold of our enforced separation.
But today, he’s coming to visit us, and he says he has a surprise.
So I decided to surprise him, too.
“Good ground for the tent there,” Yana declares. Her green eyes sparkle as she takes in the area. The rescued Latvian girl knows all about camping, and she helped me dig through Leone’s garage earlier for the green camouflage, domed tent and other supplies. In no time, she’s got it set up.
“It’s perfect, Yana.”
“The house is safer for reunions,” Leone grumbles, pacing around us with his rifle.
“We will not sleep out here.” I keep my face as neutral as possible, but they both smirk. My husband might not mind, but with all the guards and family around, the house won't offer the privacy I prefer.
“We should head back to the house.”
Reluctantly, I agree, but Leone wanders toward the water where Primo and Maddalena are. The stream is still too chilly for wading, so I focus my attention on the children, and Yana drifts toward the others.
“What do you think? Should we sleep out under the evergreens and stars this summer with your papa?”I ask the twins in Italian after plopping them down on the quilted, padded mat inside the tent.
They smile at my cheerful tone.
They’re ten months old now, and Nico comments on their growth every visit. Amadeo loves walking as long as he has furniture or hands to hold onto for extra balance. Lucia is content with crawling, but she surpasses her brother when it comes to language. It’s mostly babble, but she knows a few words, and Maddalena is convinced she said ‘Mad’ the other day. She could have meant her aunt, but she could just have easily been referring to her brother’s quick temper.
When Frankie kindly invited me and the children to visit her in New York over the phone last week –“Until things are more settled there”– I’d assured her my husband has his city in hand, and that we were safe staying with Nico’s uncle.
I grimaced as soon as the words were out of my mouth.“I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that.”
“It’s okay. I won’t share it, not even with Carlo. Nico has lots of uncles so I wouldn’t know which one.”
I’d still been upset with myself for blabbing after the phone call. Weeks of distance takes its toll.
I'd cried on Maddalena's shoulder late last night. Even Nico's sexy voice hadn't been able to soothe the growing feeling of abandonment exacerbated by one of the guards taking off to see his lady. I know Nico hates being separated from us, but I wish I could convince myself he hates it as much as I do.
Still, life here is pleasant, and I’m well aware how much worse things could be.
As if to prove the point, there’s a sudden crackling noise in the distance… followed by more of the same.
My instincts know what my brain would rather ignore, and fear chills me to the bone when I stare at the two innocent faces in front of me. So sweet and vulnerable and with no bulletproof glass to protect us out here.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see I’m not the only one who heard the gunfire. “That’s not a welcoming party for our Capo. We’ve got trouble. Primo, be ready,” Leone urges.
Primo’s eyes are wide, but he pulls the two handguns from his chest holster, ready to defend us. “Into the tent,” he orders. Yana doesn’t argue, but Maddalena is grasping his arm. “Go, now,” he barks, but he kisses her forehead before pushing her in at last.
“Do you have a weapon?” Yana asks me, holding the small mallet she used on the tent stakes. The poor woman probably wonders if she’s about to be abducted again.
Slipping my hand into my jeans pocket, I’m relieved that I brought the stiletto switchblade with me out of habit. I nod with grim determination. “Yes, I do.”
“Keep quiet,” Leone snaps at us from outside the tent.
