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I clear my throat as I glance around. "Tell me where to find these crabs."
Faro halts the boat and drops an anchor. Rolling his pajama bottoms up, he steps onto one of the rocks near the island we've arrived at and glances into the water.
"Oh, wow." His eyes light up. "There’s ablue crabhere—magical."
My brows stitch together. "What’s so special about that?"
Giosuè places his hand on my shoulder. "A rare genetic mutation causes some crabs to turn blue. Most are pinkish-red—these ones are special."
Oh, so the "regular" pink ones aren’t special? What’s so great about one being slightly different from the rest? God, every crab has value.
Faro peers into the water. "There areso manyof them. At least twenty."
Giosuè furrows his brow. "That’s statistically impossible."
"Statistics, shmatistics." Faro dismisses him with a flippant wave. "This must be a blue crab breeding ground. We’re eating good tonight."
Giosuè glares at his brother. "We arenoteating endangered, rare crabs."
"Who said anything about endangered?"
Giosuè and I step out of the boat and join Faro on the rock. I peer into the water—sure enough, a cluster of gorgeous, sapphire crabs huddle amongst the seaweed.
That’s when a disquieting sensation builds inside me. Tugging at my shirt collar, I glance around—I feel like someone’s watching us.
"Guys." I bite my lower lip. "Is there a storm coming or something?"
Faro crooks a brow. "No."
Giosuè brings his fingers to his chin. "I also feel a little weird."
Faro pushes his hand into the water. "Help me get some crabs."
Giosuè wraps his right around Faro’s waist. "Don't do it. Something’s off."
Faro glares at Giosuè. "Oh, come on."
"I’m serious," Giosuè insists.
"We didn’t comeall this wayto turn back before we’ve caught our surprises for our Daddies."
Faro wraps his fingers around one of the crabs.
He’s barely lifted it out of the water when a giant metal claw extends from the clear depths and wraps around his wrist.
"Ahhhh!" Faro screams. He drops the crabs and tries to free himself.
"Faro!" I shout, pitching forward and grabbing him.
The claw plunges Faro into the water.
Santino
What. A. Time. To. Be. Alive.
"Baby boy," I croon, rolling over and running my hand over Jericho’s chest. "Give Daddy a morning kiss."
A firm, not-so-smooth hand shoves me away. "Ewwww! This is Lazaro."
