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ISABELLA

S omething feels strange.

I feel groggy, disoriented. My thoughts congeal into solid forms.

Where am I?

Memories filter in, surfacing from the mire of my mind. I was kidnapped. Aless came for me.

We defeated my abductors, killed them. I remember flashes of my imprisonment, the freezing water torture. A shiver ripples through me and I’m there again, in the cell, alone and cold.

Panic rushing up through my chest and I try to rise, gasping.

“Shh…Isabella, it’s okay.” Angelica’s soft voice and warm hands clasp my shoulders, pressing me back down. Instead of a pillow, I feel the warmth of Angelica’s lap under my head, her fingers stroking my hair.

“You’ve been through a lot.”

“Are we still at the safe house?” I remember getting up, eating. Then…

“You fainted when Gigi and I got here. Tomas caught you.”

“Is the baby … ?”

“The baby is fine. Tomas called the doctor, someone they trust. He’s right out in the living room, but he says you’re both fine. You’re still just a little dehydrated, overwrought.”

“And Gigi?”

“She’s sleeping.” I open my eyes, tilting my head to look across the bed. Dark curls are splayed out across the pillow, a tiny bundle under the blankets.

“Where are Alessandro, and Adriano…”

“They still aren’t back. Tomas said he got a message from them a little while ago. That they handled everything and we need to be ready to go soon.”

“I need to get up…”

“Take it slow,” she warns.

Patting her knee, I ease up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I feel like I ran a marathon. Every muscle protests.

“I guess I should get used to body aches,” I mutter, rubbing my lower abdomen.

Angelica laughs, a twinkling, musical sound to my ears.

“It gets so much worse, I promise. I was bedridden for days when I was pregnant with Gigi.”

“Oh, thanks for the reassurance.” I scoff, swatting her thigh.

“It gets better, too. So much better. You’re going to miss every second of it when it’s over.”

“All I know is, I’ll feel much better once Aless is back. I need a glass of water.” I stand, shuffling slowly out into the living room toward the kitchen.

Tomas glances up from his post by the door, nodding solemnly. Another man sits in the recliner, napping. It must be the doctor.

“Thank you for getting them out. Are you okay?”

“Fine. My sister and her kids got out of the city before they hit the compound again.”

Sipping a cold glass of water, I’m heading back to my room when the door bursts open, loud and in a hurry, spinning me around. Tomas raises his gun, waving me back.

Panic tears at me for a second, gripping my chest.

“Tomas, move!” A gruff voice hollers.

Then I see them: Ciro, Adriano, Ero.

Relief washes through me.

Until I see the body slung between the twins, Ero holding his legs and Ciro’s hands under his armpits. Alessandro’s completely limp.

And soaked in blood.

“No!” I scream, rushing toward them.

The twins set his body in the middle of the floor, his head lolling to the side. I’m racing for his side, on my knees, clutching his face, running my hands over him, tears rushing to my eyes. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.

His sandy hair falls over his forehead, over his eyes. He always complained about the length, but never let me trim it.

“How could you let this happen?” I sob, looking up at the brothers, standing in a half circle around us. They all look at me, uncomfortable. Unreadable.

The doctor is up, moving around to inspect him across from me. “Please, let me look at him…”

“Answer me!” My fury skyrockets as I scream up at Adriano. He reaches for me and I slap his hand away. “Don’t touch me! How could you?”

“Isabella.” That tone in his voice, the calm in his stance, makes me pause.

One by one I meet the brothers’ stares. Ending on Ciro, who is trying not to smile, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Ero won’t meet my gaze.

“You fucking assholes! What’s going on?”

Adriano points and I look back to see the doctor pull open Alessandro’s blood-soaked shirt, revealing the vest, two bullets lodged in the Kevlar. Then he unstraps the vest and Alessandro gasps, shooting up, clutching his chest.

“You’re a shit shot, Ciro!” he grunts, wincing.

That’s when I notice the wound up near his shoulder, the source of all the blood.

“Uh, you mean an excellent shot! That shit was surgical. I had to make it look real while shooting you in the chest. Only spot I could hit for authenticity without killing you.” His grin is proud, like a kid winning first place.

“I’m about to kill all three of you if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on. Right. Now.” I’m on my feet, backing the three of them toward the wall.

“Whoa!”

“Take it easy, Isabella,” Adriano raises his hands. “We had to pretend to kill him to save all our asses.”

“Oh. That makes perfect sense,” I mock, huffing back to the couch and plopping down, glaring at my lover who is still sitting on the floor. Aless hides a smirk, still holding his arm as the doctor cleans the wound. “Don’t even look at me right now. You probably told them to do it, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, it’s his fault!” Ciro cracks open a beer, tossing one to his twin and chugging it. “Doc, what do you think? Good shot?”

“There’s no such thing as a ‘good’ gunshot wound, you dolt. But it went straight through. Didn’t damage too much. Should have use of the arm again in a few weeks.”

‘A few weeks?!” Alessandro gripes, rising and moving to the dining room table to get stitched up. I follow him with my vengeful glare.

“What do you need it for? We’ll just be traveling. Ciro can carry your bags.” Adriano teases, accepting a beer of his own and pounding it back.

“You believe this shit, Tomas? They want me to do your job,” Ciro quips.

“That’s not my job,” Tomas snips back, resuming his post by the door.

“Could have fooled me. I saw how full your SUV was downstairs. You let Angelica bring the whole house with her?”

The thick-necked, strong-jawed man keeps his eyes straight ahead, but I swear I see him blush.

“Is anyone going to fill me in on what the hell happened tonight?” I cross my arms, trying to stay mad. But I keep looking over at Aless, my heart tugging at me to cave and throw myself into his arms.

“Short version, Dom outmaneuvered us.” Adriano slouches over the counter.

“Longer version, he got our goose pretty good,” Ciro chirps.

“It’s ‘got our goat,’” Ero sighs.

“Nah, Aless is pretty good, but not GOAT material.”

“This is going to be a long trip.” Alessandro grumbles, hissing as the doctor pushes the needle through again.

“Trip?” I perk up. I’m letting it slide that no one seems willing to fill me in about Dom and the family. Each of them is cagey, worked up. They need time to process the loss.

“We’re getting out of the country for a little family time. Mourning, you know,” Adriano explains. “Alessandro’s funeral is in two days.”

“Where?” I can’t help asking.

“Italy, the old country.”

“Aless was always a sentimental fool.” Ciro wags his eyebrows. “Or at least that's what Dom thinks.”

My lover rises from his chair, striding purposefully over to me, pulling me up. We embrace, holding tight, savoring the moment.

“What do you say, Isabella?” Aless gazes down into my eyes, his weathered face more stunning than anything I could imagine. “Will you disappear with me?”

“I’ll go anywhere with you.”

“I think you’ll like where we’re heading.”