Page 45 of His Wicked Wants (West Coast Mobsters #6)

CHAPTER 42

NERO

There is something very disquieting about descending into the ground like this. Julian Castellani is a dead weight even as Gabriel comes back to take up his other side, his breathing shallow and labored. I think he has a punctured lung—and worse, too. But our shuffling feet and our own panting breaths are the only noise here underground, where darkness reigns.

“What is this place?” I mutter.

“An old secret passage,” comes the disembodied voice of Gabriel. I take a moment to relive the relief I felt when I saw him, alive. But when a ghostly apparition suddenly lights up ahead, I almost spit out a curse?—

It’s Darian, the butler, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone, followed by a slightly stronger beam as he turns on the flashlight. “I twisted my ankle,” he whispers, limping back toward us. “I sent Nate on ahead to get the weapons.”

Around me, phones begin lighting up, until we could be at some small concert instead of risking being buried alive in the earth. Miller, who has been dazed and quiet—does he have a concussion?—suddenly seems to sharpen, and he turns to me. “We’d better hurry and catch up to him. Nate can be a little…flaky.”

He seems to see me as the natural leader, although I’m having trouble myself adjusting to these tight earthen walls. “Is this thing going to collapse on us?” I ask Gabriel sharply.

“No,” he pants, as we try to maneuver ourselves side-on to be able to fit better in the tunnel. It’s not made for three men traveling abreast. Hell, it’s barely wide enough for one. “Well—hopefully not. The tunnel has been here for decades, though it was bricked off on the maze end. I installed a new entrance and reinforced the tunnel roof during the renovations. It comes out right at the Retreat.”

No wonder Julian Castellani needed a landscape architect. I find myself admiring Gabriel even more. “Then you need to go,” I tell Miller, adding, “All of you— go . Get to the Retreat and find Nate. Help Darian walk if necessary?—”

“I can hobble,” he says eagerly.

“And I’m not leaving you,” Gabriel says with finality.

I don’t have time to argue with him just now. “Then Darian and Miller—you will go on ahead while Gabriel and I carry Julian. Get to safety, and if you see Leo or any of our allies at the Retreat, tell them there’s backup on the way—the Espositos, and more of us Castellanis.”

“Us” Castellanis. How naturally the phrase rolls off my tongue.

Darian and Miller head off, and for a few yards I see their phone lights bobbing and flashing, until the tunnel curves and the glow fades. Gabriel and I continue our progress as best we can, his phone mounted in his shirt pocket to pathetically light our path. Julian is heavy and the blood all over him makes him difficult to keep hold of—and I’m not uninjured, either. I took a blow before I entered the maze which has bruised if not cracked a rib, and so every step with this weight hanging off me is painful.

“Wait,” I mutter a few minutes later. “Let’s set him down a moment.”

Gabriel doesn’t argue, helping me to prop the unconscious Castellani against the wall. I’m relieved to see, as Gabriel said there would be, beams and paneling in some places to reinforce the roof and walls. “Are you alright?” Gabriel asks, putting a gentle hand on my arm.

“I’m fine. We can’t stop long, but I just need a moment.”

He looks troubled, but he nods. “Are Sandro and Jack and—all of them. Are they all okay?”

“They were when I left them,” I say briefly. “So this is what you were doing in the maze all the time? Not building a habitat for endangered butterflies?”

He gives a tiny smile. “I was doing that,” he says, turning his phone so that the light shines up at the roof between us, and I can see his face more clearly. “But I was also following Julian’s orders to renovate the tunnel, make sure it was usable, install the new gazebo and secret entrance.” But then he frowns. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” He sets the phone down on Julian’s shoulder, leaning it against the wall to shine directly on me. “Pull up your shirt.”

“We don’t have time to fool around,” I tell him with a grin, but he won’t take no for an answer. He’s too quick for me to stop him when he tugs at my shirt, opening the buttons and pushing it aside.

He sucks in a breath between his teeth. “This is serious.”

I glance down at the ugly bruise already blackening my side. “It’s not going to stop me from doing what I need to do.”

“And what is that?” he asks, looking into my face.

“Keeping you safe.”

“This is all very touching,” comes a tired voice from my left. “But perhaps you can save it for later.” Julian Castellani is shining Gabriel’s phone at us, and Gabriel hastily takes it back with an apologetic murmur. “How close are we to the Retreat?”

“We’re about halfway through the tunnel, Mr. Castellani,” Gabriel tells him, taking a step back from me. But not too far, I note. He’s not cowed by Julian, and I like that about him.

“Then we need to get moving,” Julian replies, and tries to stand, but falls back, still too weak.

“I’ll help you,” I tell him, and then look at Gabriel. “You need to go on ahead. It will be faster for me to take Julian alone—the tunnel is not wide enough for three abreast.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes you are,” I tell him softly. “You will do as I tell you, Gabriel. Go and make sure the others are alright.”

“They are a priority,” Julian agrees. “If any of them were to die, it would be difficult for any of their lovers to keep a cool head.”

I can tell Gabriel doesn’t like the way Julian speaks of them, as though they’re chess pieces on a board, too valuable to sacrifice right now—but maybe one day, if it suited him.

“They’re fine,” he says. “And Nero is injured. He can’t take you alone.”

“He’s tougher than he looks,” Julian says coldly. “And so am I. Your lover is telling you to go, Gabriel, and so is your employer.”

“Move, Gabriel,” I add roughly, and then I add softly, “Please, tesoro . I need to have you safe. Remember what I said to you at the wedding? There are times when I need you to follow my lead. To bend to my will. This is one of those times.”

Gabriel comes close and, despite Julian as an audience, throws his arms around me and kisses me, hard. “You stay alive,” he chokes out. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

But once Gabriel is out of range, I can stop pretending. The pain in my ribs is getting worse, and I slump down opposite Julian to rest in the dark.

“So now your lover has gone,” Julian’s voice comes softly out of the dark, “you can attempt to carry out your orders, Nero Andretti.”

I sigh. “You’re so sure of what you think you know.”

“I am. Because I know La Contessa. She’s not so mysterious as she likes to think.”

“And what do you think she’s ordered me to do?”

“Kill me, of course.” I let his words hang in the air, unconfirmed, and he goes on. “One thing I don’t know: did she orchestrate this attack on Redwood?”

There’s not much point now in keeping up the charade. Because by the end of tonight, one of us will probably be dead. “I doubt it,” I tell him. “La Contessa’s only desire is to see her son rule without rival. She has been moving to eliminate the threats to the Castellani Family.”

“Not very successfully.”

I snort softly, and give a groan of pain as my ribs protest. “Not very successfully,” I agree. “But my mission was to build up Sandro’s allies. La Contessa was trying to come to an understanding with Anna-Vittoria Esposito to make sure they would not encroach on Castellani territory. They refused negotiations with La Contessa, but they have little interest in the port, which was her main concern. The Bernardis, on the other hand?—”

“Are weaker. More volatile. And they have more control at the port. But did she really think Roxanne Rochford was her best shot?”

I shrug, the movement making me seize up for a moment in pain. “Gino Bernardi is under his wife’s spell. He might have been a player once, but he never stood up to take his opportunities—and left it for his wife to do so. The other faction blames Sandro for AJ’s death.”

“They should blame me,” Julian laughs.

“The Boss takes the blame,” I tell him simply. “And so La Contessa was determined that this wedding should go ahead to lend Ms. Rochford a legitimate name and claim to the other Bernardi faction leadership. That was my order. To facilitate the wedding and to ensure La Bellissima would fall in line. And for what it’s worth, Roxy might find herself leading the remnants of her faction sooner than anticipated. Gino Bernardi was injured. Badly. Leo brought him to the pool house, where Sandro is standing guard over him and Roxy and some others. But Gino may bleed out before we can get help in—just like you. So we should keep moving.”

Julian takes that in, then says meditatively, “Roxanne Rochford has been getting a little too big for her boots lately.”

“She has. But she will learn. She is Roxanne Bernardi now, after all.”

“Mm. But come on, while we’re being honest. That wasn’t your only order.”

I shift against the cool wall. “We should keep moving.”

“Now, why would you want to break up this little tête-a-tête ? You might as well come clean with me. La Contessa has always wanted me dead. She ordered you to kill me, didn’t she?” I say nothing. He goes on: “I think it was threatening her lover, that black-haired sylph of hers, that really signed my death warrant. I could see it in her eyes that night. She would not let things lie.”

“You are a very irritating man, Julian,” I sigh. “Can’t you let anything lie?”

A light comes on, shining into my eyes, and I raise a hand to shield them from his phone. “I don’t like other people having secrets unless I know about them, too. So be honest with me, Nero Andretti. I probably won’t last the night…one way or the other.”

He does seem unnaturally pale as he lets his hand fall to his lap with the phone flashlight, his breath still shallow and harsh.

“All the more reason we should get you to the Retreat.” I stand, then have to pause while my body adjusts to the pain level caused by my movement.

“But this is the perfect opportunity to kill me. You can cover it up to Sandro by saying I simply bled out.”

“Do you want to die?” I snap.

“I want you to show your true colors. Sandro is the one who likes to keep his enemies closer than his friends. My feeling is that they should simply be killed. Though you should know that if you try to eliminate me, Nero Andretti, I won’t make it easy for you.”

I look down at him, an unfamiliar emotion sparking in me, and one completely inappropriate for a man like Julian Castellani.

Pity.

“You can’t even stand, Julian.”

“I wouldn’t underestimate me if I were you,” he says darkly.

His eyes close. I crouch down by him and take the phone from his slack hand, shining the light into his face. He’s translucent and clammy, blood streaked across his forehead, matted in his golden hair.

He’s not faking. He’s definitely passed out.

And what he said is true: this is my best opportunity to kill him. In fact, I don’t even have to kill him. He is unconscious and he is bleeding out. I could simply wait, fulfil La Contessa’s wishes without raising a hand myself.

And Sandro hated him so much when we were children.