Page 51 of His Wicked Wants (West Coast Mobsters #6)

CHAPTER 47

GAbrIEL

I’m just about falling asleep at the kitchen island, despite the coffee that Darian has been plying me with and the noise around me. The adrenaline of the night has crashed, leaving me feeling weak and exhausted. So that when a hand shakes me, I’m not sure for a moment if I dreamt it.

“Gabriel,” Darian says softly. “I’ve made up a bed for you in the guest wing. Raffi will take you there.”

I’m too tired to protest that I should head back to my cottage, and I just follow Raffi DeLuca through a labyrinth of hallways until we reach a room. “Is Nero alright?” I ask him, dazedly, as he opens the door for me. “He told me to wait in the kitchen for him. But he’s been hours .”

“Far as I know, he’s fine.”

“Can you let him know I’m in here if you see him?”

Raffi studies me for a moment. “Sure. If I see him.” I can’t read his inflection, but there’s something strange there. But before I can ask again, he gives me a nod goodnight and leaves me. I get a vague sense of the room—luxurious and inviting—but I’m too tired to appreciate it right now. I pull off my shoes and clothes, and take a quick, hot shower to get rid of the dirt and blood.

Then I crawl naked into the bed, still wondering where Nero is, still wondering if he’s truly okay…

I pass out rather than fall asleep.

I’m woken by a soft knock on the door, and I sit up in bed with a smile of welcome as it opens at my call. But instead of Nero, it’s Elise, bringing in a breakfast tray.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, aghast. I rub the sleep from my eyes and stare around. It’s light outside; I can tell by the brightness beyond the heavy curtains.

Elise glances nervously behind her and shuts the door with her foot. “I had to,” she says in a whisper. “I had to talk to you.”

“About what?” I whisper back. And then fear grips my heart. “Is Nero okay?”

Elise comes closer and sets the breakfast tray on the nightstand. “He’s alive,” she assures me, presumably seeing the panic start in my face. “But something happened last night between him and Don Castellani. And then I saw Mr. Pedretti and Mr. DeLuca marching him out of the manor and into a town car. I couldn’t hear much of what happened, but talk in staff quarters says he’s been banished.”

“Banished?” A strangely archaic word that, somehow, sounds even worse than killed . “But where is he? Where did he go?”

Elise shakes her head. “No clue. But I wanted to let you know as soon as I could. I know you and he were…close. And I never get involved in Castellani business, really I don’t, but Nero was so kind to me and my family, it breaks my heart to see him treated this way.”

I turn it over in my head for a moment before thanking Elise, who leaves me alone with my thoughts. The smell of the breakfast she’s brought in is making my stomach turn, so I push the covers aside and dress quickly in yesterday’s clothes, which have been magically laundered overnight and folded carefully on the armchair in the corner.

I half-walk, half-run over to Nero’s guesthouse, but when I get there the door is open, and the living room is devoid of him. Darian is there instead, along with Raffi DeLuca, and the two of them are packing up Nero’s possessions in suitcases.

“No reason for you to be here,” Raffi says to me, but he sounds more apologetic than brusque.

It occurs to me that Raffi lied to me last night when he led me to bed, or at least didn’t give me the whole truth, if what Elise told me was true. Raffi was one of the people who made sure Nero was removed from the estate. “Where’s Nero?” I demand from him angrily.

“I’ll start taking these up to the house,” he tells Darian. He picks up two suitcases and leaves with a significant look at his boyfriend.

I have the distinct sense that Raffi left to allow Darian time alone with me. And if there’s one person who should know what’s going on, it’s Darian Thornfield-Hayes.

“Darian, do you know where Nero is?” I ask him—beg him, really.

“I haven’t seen Mr. Andretti this morning.”

That’s not an answer. “I heard he was taken away in the middle of the night. Do you know anything about it?”

Darian hesitates, but then says loudly, “No, Mr. Carstairs, I don’t.” I’m about to lose my temper when he leans in and says softly, very softly, “If I were you, I’d pay a visit to Mr. Castellani. He’s just woken up and I’m sure he’d like to see a friendly face.”

I’m about to tell Darian that the last thing I want to do right now is visit Julian, when I realize what he’s trying to tell me.

“Does Julian know something?” I demand, tired of all the whispers and secrets.

“He usually does,” Darian murmurs. “You’ll have to excuse me. I have a number of duties to attend to.”

He tries to pick up the violin case, but I get there first. “I’ll give this to Mr. Andretti myself next time I see him,” I say coldly.

Darian gives me a pitying look. “I hope you can,” is all he says.

I’m not sure that I’ll even be allowed to see Julian given the extent of his injuries. But when I hurry down to the Retreat, the house guards posted at the foot of the steps call straight up and announce that I’m here. Whatever response they get must be an affirmative, because they pat me down and then wave me up the reclaimed wood stairs to the front door.

Leo Bernardi comes out to greet me in the living room. I expected him to be worried and grim, but if anything, he’s the opposite. “Gabriel Carstairs,” he says with a grin. “Nice work last night.”

I swallow down the bile that rises at the thought of the pool house battle. “I wanted to see Julian.”

“Yeah? Julian’s doing okay, but I don’t know if he’s up to visitors.”

“I’d really like a chance to speak to him if possible,” I say desperately. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Leo takes a close look at me. “Two minutes,” he says at last. He lets me into their bedroom, where Julian is laid up in bed covered in bandages. His eyes are both blackened and puffy, and he has to squint at me to see me.

“Are you okay?” is my first, alarmed question, given the sight of him.

“I’ve had worse,” he croaks, but his wince as he tries to shrug suggests it couldn’t have been much worse.

“Thank you for everything you did last night,” I tell him, sitting gingerly at the side of his bed.

“You’re very welcome. As it happens, Leo and I tied in our body counts. I got in an awful lot of kills in that maze, thankfully.”

I ignore the pride in his tone. “I can’t find Nero,” I say. “And I really am sorry that you got so badly hurt, but I don’t have time to make small talk. Mr. Bernardi gave me two minutes.”

Julian studies me for a moment. I feel like I’ve never been under such scrutiny in my entire time at Redwood as I have by everyone today—and it’s only 8 am.

“I don’t know where Nero is,” Julian says. “But I can take a pretty good guess at what happened to him. Sandro will have sent him away. Frankly, Nero Andretti should think himself lucky he is not among the bodies we are disposing of today.”

I feel my stomach drop. “But—why? And where would Sandro have sent him?”

“Back home, I assume. To Italy. To the woman he serves, La Contessa.” He takes in my expression. “Has no one told you? Nero Andretti was a spy, Gabriel.”

“A spy? ” I feel cold all over. Nero never said anything about—but then, of course he wouldn’t. Though it does explain a few things, and now a terrible fear seizes me. “But you’re sure Sandro didn’t…he wouldn’t…”

Julian shakes his head slowly. “Sandro won’t have killed him. To execute a man of Nero Andretti’s standing would be very difficult. Sandro would need to seek permission for it, and his mother—La Contessa—would make sure it was not granted. Well, at least as long as Nero was still of use to her.”

The casual way he talks about Nero being executed is going to tip me over the edge. And my head is already spinning with the idea that Sandro’s own mother sent a spy into Redwood. I need to wrap this up, fast. “But…Nero has none of his possessions. I just saw Raffi and Darian packing them up.” I hold up the violin case in my hand. “I want to get this to him,” I say, by way of explaining why I’m so desperate to find his location. “Can you—can you think of anywhere he might be?”

Once again, Julian studies me, the pale blue slits of his irises showing barely through the puffy eyelids. “I’m very tired, Gabriel.” He leans back against the pillows again, and for a moment I think I’m out of luck, that he’s fallen back asleep. But then he murmurs, “La Contessa likes to stay…at the Bellamy Grand. Her minion might also…”

“Thank you,” I gasp out—but he’s already asleep.

It’s not the best lead, but there’s no way I’m going to be able to tail a Castellani town car taking Nero’s possessions to him, which was my first crazy idea. They’d spot me a mile away.

I’m interrupted in my thoughts by a rough voice from the doorway. “I’m sorry, Mr. Carstairs, but I want to spend some time with my brother—alone.”

I leap to my feet feeling guilty as I turn to face Sandro, even though I’ve done nothing I should feel guilty about. “I was just leaving,” I say quickly. “He’s fallen asleep again.”

“Then I’ll let him rest,” he says, his eyes on Julian. “But I want to sit with him a while.”

I get out of the room quickly before he can ask me what I was doing there. But as I turn back to close the door, I catch sight of Alessandro Castellani bending to kiss his younger brother tenderly on the forehead. I shut the door quietly, not wanting to intrude, but the image stays with me.

I’ve always wondered about the two of them. They never seem all that warm toward each other.

But that was real love I saw in Sandro’s face.