Femme Fatale Loved (Pericolo #3) Page 14

  “I think I’ll call Zane and tell him I’m heading home already. Tell him the news.”

  “No, you don’t,” Alessa stops me, snatching the phone out of my hand. “What brought this on?”

  “I just want him to know,” I whimper, finding this secret burning straight through me.

  “Someone’s losing her nerve!” Dante teases, taking my bag out of the house as he does so. “Someone stop her!” he yells out from the drive.

  “No, you don’t,” Ryleigh stops me, her eyes narrowing on me. “Surprise him with all of this. Don’t let him know you’re coming home or about the baby. He didn’t suspect anything last night, so don’t give it away.”

  Alessa returns the phone to me with a warning look. It begins to burn into in my palm, begging me to drag up a text on the screen and type a short and sweet message. I long to send one text to Zane, just the one to ease my mind and calm my buzzing nerves, but I can only imagine hitting send.

  I’m coming home. Finally.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “What’s the plan?”

  The plan? I ask myself, tearing my attention away from passing Manhattan to look at Dante. It’s a good question, really. I had some sort of plan for Alessa, but now so many other catalysts are involved, new elements, lifelong variables to play with that I can’t mess this up. It’s not only Enzo’s life I’m playing God with. Bringing Dante and Ryleigh and my own news of expecting a child back with me changes the game entirely. This will alter the course of our lives forever.

  “You don’t have a plan, do you?” Ryleigh asks, and she offers me a sympathetic smile. “You’re going to need to think fast.”

  “I know,” I say, whimpering slightly. “I was only supposed to bring Alessa back. God, I don’t ever do things halfway, do I?!”

  Dante sniggers, rubbing his jaw. “I won’t say I’m surprised because it’d be a lie.”

  I rub my brow, feeling that all-knowing thud of a headache rumbling to life.

  “All I know is that you’re all welcome at Zane’s and my place. We have the room, and it’ll give you all a chance to catch your breath and allow me to develop a plan.”

  “And the baby?” Alessa presses, watching me.

  Stricken with fear, I have no idea how I’m going to broach that matter. I spent the whole flight back trundling over this scenario and that, imagining what Zane’s reaction would be, but the feeling I was left with at the end of each scene was not fulfilling. I want to see that moment of incredulity creep across his face, that awe and wonderment I felt while waiting to see that flicker of a heartbeat.

  I know I’m being hard on myself; I’m being critical and I’m overthinking, but I can’t just say the words without some spectacular gesture. Or can I?

  I sigh, sinking into my seat. “I think I’m going to wing it,” I joke, trying to dilute the fear saturating me. “I can’t make it perfect, so I need to just go with it.”

  Grabbing my hand, Alessa again becomes my one piece of solace and peace; the perfect substitute for when I don’t have Enzo here. “He’ll love it regardless, tesoro bello. Just do what’s natural between the two of you.”

  As her fingers link with mine, I know it’s a sign she’s not letting go until I calm down over what’s to come. I shift my body, practically falling sideways until my head meets her shoulders. I take a deep breath and look through the car, out of the windshield to see where we are. I know we’re close, but I fear if I admit that, my mind might go into fucking overdrive, and I’ll end up hyperventilating.

  I scared Alessa yesterday; I’m not going to make it a daily habit!

  “We’re here,” I say, sitting up as I watch my house come into view. I feel content seeing it – I’m home.

  As we get out of the cab, trundling around the drive, Dante comes to me, putting his arm around my shoulders. He pulls me close, his hand gripping my shoulder as he joins me in front of the house.

  “It’s a gorgeous place.” He tears his attention from the house, looking at me. “But you are sure we can use your house as a hideout?”

  “My house is yours, always,” I state, walking up the path.

  “Okay,” he remarks, releasing me. “I’ll grab the bags.”

  I had butterflies dance to life so fiercely when we pulled up that I felt each of their wings brush against my rib cage, causing a frenzy so fierce I thought they might escape. They grew violent when I saw Zane’s SUV in the drive, but with each step, they start to flutter more delicately.

  “This is gorgeous!” Alessa exclaims, looking up at the two-story building.

  I can’t help but beam brightly as she comments. “Zane and Enzo apparently drew up the plans, and everyone kept it a secret until it was ready,” I comment, breezing through the side gate that leads up to the main path to the front door.

  “Where were you living before?” Dante asks, hauling the last of our bags out of the cab’s trunk.

  “In Zane’s apartment just on the outside of downtown Manhattan,” I muse, looking up at the house. “It was never home, but this is. He made it happen.”

  “Is there room for the bambino?” Dante asks, and I sense the tease to his tone. “I mean, is this a couples retreat, or hell, a shag pad for the pair of you?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “This is home.”

  I start to fish through my bag, finding that my keys have sunk to the bottom. I pull them up, catching the ultrasound image with it. My heart cramps with anticipation and the butterflies go wild again. It spurs me on as I pull the keys free from the bag and rush to the door. I put the key in the lock and quickly push the door open.

  Now, I’m here; now, I’m ready.

  I walk in but stop no more than a few feet over the threshold. My entire living room is a war zone. The furniture is overturned, images smashed, ornaments shattered, and I notice the crimson against the pale walls and pine flooring. I falter as my eyes trace the blood smeared across the walls, a hand print visible in one spot. I can’t look away, not even as I begin to shake, and Dante pushes past Ryleigh and Alessa to get inside. No one says anything until there’s a large crash.

  Zane!

  That one thought has me moving through the room, careful not to tread in debris and blood as if I’m stepping into a minefield. Blood splatters the floor like a trail of breadcrumbs, and as my gaze follows it, the dread balled in the very pit of my stomach rages to life. I feel as if I’m going to be sick as every possibility assaults me.

  Zane’s hurt.

  Something’s happened to my brothers.

  Someone’s here to drag me back to the Dio Lavoro.

  The fairy tale’s over.

  My past is back. My past is back. My past is back.

  My thoughts scream and bellow, raging a war inside me as I accept the final as my fate – my fucking past is back, and it’s back with a vengeance. That’s the only explanation for this hurricane of destruction through my house. No other reason reaps much attention than the fact that someone is back and hell-bent on finding me.

  The further I go, the more I ignore everyone’s hushed calls to me. I know one thing – something isn't right. My past, the one I had built a life away from, has come back to greet me with a crimson fury. This time, I won't be allowing justice to go undelivered. Whatever I find, I will fight to end it now. Not for my sake or for Zane’s any longer, but for the precious life of my unborn child.

  “Amelia,” Dante says, grabbing me from behind, his hands paralyzing me with a grip on my bicep. He’s firm but doesn’t hurt me. He’s doing this to make me see sense. “You need to stay here and let me check.”

  “No,” I bite back, trying to shake him off.

  As the noise worsens, I strive for freedom. I writhe in his grasp, fight with everything, but he tightens his fingers on me. Until I result to my one defensive move that can work. I ball my fist up and swing for his groin. It’s not as powerful as I want it to be, but it’s enough to wind him. It’s enough to grant me a chance to move away.


  “Zane!” I yell, breaking free from the room. “Zane!” I scream out, passing through the rooms, noting that most of the rooms are trashed. My beautiful home is a mess, and I know, with the pit in my stomach throbbing painfully, I haven’t found the worse of it. “Zane!” My screams grow frantic the more I pass through the house, searching for signs of him.

  “Amelia,” Dante interjects, blocking the way. His voice is now gruff, but he’s not about to let me go, and he’s not scared to approach me after my attack on him. “You need to be careful here. You’re pregnant; you don’t know what you’re going to find.”

  “He’s not hurt,” I stammer, convinced. “Now move!” I grind out, narrowing a hateful gaze upon him. “I will take a second swing.”

  “Amelia,” he growls, his face darkening. “I’m trying to help you here. Be fucking rational! I am not the fucking enemy, so calm the fuck down!”

  “I can’t,” I admit, my tone feeble. “Zane.”

  “Let me lead the way,” Dante begins, the old Valens member coming to life. “You can follow, but I don’t want whoever is up there to take their first swing on you.” I can see he’s at a loss that it’s three females and him with a potential threat just upstairs. “I don’t know who to call right now because no one knows we’re here, so it’s just us two.” He looks over his shoulder, his grasp on my hands tightening as if he knew I would fight back when I had the opportunity. “Alessa, take Ryleigh outside, please. We won’t be far behind you.”

  “Amelia,” Ryleigh say, looking at me.

  “She won’t go until she’s seen, Zane.” He watches her, and I watch his face soften. “I won’t let anything happen, Mia Regina. I promise you; just please go and wait outside.” I sense him wait for them to get outside before he strikes a move. “Come on then, piccola,” Dante says, taking my hand as we begin the creep up the stairs.

  The corridor to our master bedroom feels like it’s a million miles away instead of a few steps from the top of the stairs. I can feel my heart working its way up my throat with fear. I have no idea what we’ll find, but I can only hope it’s not what I’m dreading.

  We hear a scuffle, grunts, a fight being upheld, and a lot of swearing.

  Walking in, I try to sidestep Dante in the large doorway to see what’s going on. I have to admit what I find in front of me is not what I expect. While our bedroom is damaged, chaos strewed around, I can’t help but look at the eye of the storm, and I feel myself begin to tremble.

  Zane looks up at me, his body heaves with rage, his face smothered with madness. His eyes lighten as they lay on me, and I feel that all-too-familiar swirl of lust burst to life. But I’m quick to notice the tiny speckles of red across his face, and now I dare myself to look down.

  It's been a long time since I saw that face, but seeing it bloodied, and the bruise is satisfaction at its finest. His green eyes bore into me as he kneels on the floor, his hands trapped behind him. This is like a slow burn of justice happening, and Zane is the one to deliver it.

  “Look, sweetheart,” Zane heaves with angry exertion, a gleefully crooked smirk lining his lips. “I caught us a bastard.”

  As he grinds those venomous words out, he pulls Giovanni up by his collar, not making the gesture anything but rough. Gio grunts with pain as he does so, that same madman look in his eyes as he starts to become enraged that he’s been caught.

  “Thought you’d come into my home and try for round two, did you?” Zane asks, completely blinded by his rage. “I should’ve killed you back when I had that knife pressed to your throat. You never deserved my mercy.”

  “You’re weak,” Gio manages, spitting out a mouthful of blood. He then grins, blood lining his white teeth. “She will always render everyone weak because she’s the fucking weakest of us all! She’s the worst type of poison possible.”

  “You’re still on that tirade?” Zane asks, scoffing. “That woman is the love of my life, the strongest lady I ever knew, and she will always prove that you’re nothing but full of shit. She’s my survivor, you fucking asshole. You’re not worth the air you breathe. This moment has been long awaited.”

  “Then kill me,” Gio dares Zane, dangerously teetering on the metaphorical knife’s edge, daring to be dangerous with his own life. He then laughs; the maniacal tone reverts me to that state where I lay staring at those diamond crystals that hung above my father’s desk. “I know you won’t because Princess Amelia won’t let you.”

  “You’re right,” he spits at my brother. “She’s your last fucking hope.” He throws Gio down onto his knees, weak and vulnerable. “Take a good long look at your sister, Giovanni.” Zane leans in, spitting every word out into Gio’s ear; he leers a little as Gio refuses to look. “Look at her, you fucking murderer!”

  The air becomes tense as Gio finally looks at me. Even with his attitude, his blatant carefree behavior before, he hesitated to look at me. My mind buzzes with theories – is he like this because he’s now facing the consequence of his actions or am I living reminder of whose blood will forever stain his hands.

  “She decides what I do with you,” Zane sneers.

  It’s not quite the welcome home I had in mind, but seeing Zane so emblazoned to fight and protect is arousing, to say the least! I guess the baby hormones aren’t helping me because usually I’d be able to decipher that now isn’t the time to want to act like a dog in heat!

  “She is the one who holds your fate in her hands, right now.” Zane’s sharp tone pierces my thoughts. “I’d gladly kill you and make it look like an accident.”

  The threat defuses my lust and the cloud of desire disperses, bringing me to earth with a loud, resounding thud. I look back and forth between my brother and Zane and then shake my head. We didn’t leave that life to revert to it at the drop of a hat. As much as I want him to suffer for everything, the news I received yesterday weakens my urge for revenge and makes me realize I don’t want to be the executioner in this situation. It’s not my job to reap punishment on Giovanni – my father is responsible for that.

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” I say, looking away from Gio to Zane. “He isn’t worth this.” Now, I feel my own rage beckon forth. I’m no longer weak or injured. No, I’m a woman who hasn’t had a chance to vent my fury toward the culprit who destroyed our lives. But I’m not angered enough to hurt him physically; my words will cut him enough. “How dare you think you can creep back into my life like this? Were you here to finish the job?” I ask, watching his eyes search mine, but I never found any redeeming qualities in him before, so I won’t ever again. “Because leaving me for dead on that table wasn’t gratification enough, was it? You had to come barging back in and try to finish something you started. It doesn’t work like that anymore! You come back here with some deadly intent and expect us to cower.”

  “I didn’t want you dead,” Gio admits, but I struggle to believe him. He stands with difficulty, trying to match my stance. “That’s not why I’m here!”

  “Liar!” I say, laughing at him. I take a cautious step forward, squaring up to him. “It’s nearly the anniversary of that day, and you turn up. This isn’t some sort of coincidence.” I get no response; apparently, Gio notices that I’m unforgiving, and that won’t change. “I won, Giovanni.” My eyes search his, and I see a flicker of remorse cross over his greens, something I never saw in his dense, dead orbs. “I’m still alive. I lived past what you did, and I will forever be the reminder that I am stronger than you are. Regardless of what you do now, I still beat you. I still hung on!” I back away now, allowing the distance to grow having felt how tense Zane and Dante became. “I have a life, a family, and a chance to redeem myself. You, however, are never going to get any of that. Not now. Not after what you did.” I shake my hand in defeat, unable to really spark something in him. I wanted to evoke some grief, some upset that he was the outcast, but nothing really happened. “Get him out of my sight so I can start to clean my house,” I say, putting a hand into my hair. I had so much more I wanted to say,
but I don’t have the energy to hope my words will burrow deep into his soul and make some difference.

  “I’ll take him,” Dante strikes up, stepping to the forefront.

  Apparently, Giovanni’s mind-set is all over the place as he takes one look at Dante and begins to laugh. In all of the bedlam, no one took much notice of Dante, but now, he’s stepping into the limelight, and I watch a flicker of fear hit Giovanni – he’s met his match. “Dante Valentino as I live and breathe,” Gio welcomes Dante, his laughter now turning hysterical.

  “It’s been a long time, cousin,” Dante greets all too kindly. That tone is one Dante used to use while on jobs, one he used to use on Ryleigh. He means business, and he’s all too happy to take Giovanni off Zane’s hands. “Cazzo bastardo. I’m going to have so much fun with you downstairs.” As he grabs Giovanni, he pushes him past me toward the doorway. “I’m gonna make you dance, coglione,” Dante threatens.

  I stare; that was one of Dante’s sayings before he killed a man. He’d make them dance before they were done. Whether it be a fistfight or with knives, men always danced around Dante trying to avoid any one of Dante’s swings.

  “No!” Gio screams out, and a punch quickly silences him.

  I have no idea what Dante has planned for Gio. I know he won’t kill him, but he has a lot of anger building in him since our reunion. He has an urge for redemption for Manuel, a need to repent for not being here for me.

  There’s a moment between us as Zane stands, slightly stooped from whatever beating Gio got in, but he watches me from across the room. He has an arm wrapped around his torso, but the crooked grin that grows on his lips is one to tell me he’s happy I’m finally home.

  “I’ve missed you, vita mia,” he comments dryly, his eyes fixing on mine.

  I rush to Zane, wrapping my arms around him. I hear him take a sharp intake of air as I do so; obviously, my hold is too strong on his tender ribs, and I release it, relinquishing enough to put my arms around his neck and move my head enough for my lips to hit his.