The age-old fury in my heart eroded under the warmth of his affection for my wife. He hadn’t been there for her when she was a girl, and I resented him for that even though I knew it wasn’t exactly his choice. I wanted to believe that a true man made his own decisions regardless of the obstacles that faced him, but life wasn’t so simple and I’d had firsthand experience with the difficulty of overcoming your own circumstances.
The truth was, he loved Cosima with a verve that led him to sacrifice his own safety on multiple occasions in order to see her happy.
I could respect that.
Hadn’t I spent the past four years doing the very same?
But my softening was more than even that rational.
Once, years ago before the death of my beloved mother, I had called this man Uncle Tore. We had spent countless occasions with him as boys both in England and Italy with our mother, learning Italian, picking olives out of his many orchards, and squishing grapes with our toes in the old way just because it was fun for boys to get messy. He had loved us too, not quite the same way he loved Cosima, but in his own deep way. We were the children of his best friend, and as was the Italian way, that made us family to him.
So, there were deep fissures in the arctic glaciers I’d built between myself and my old affection for the man, and they deepened as I saw one furious tear roll down his creased cheek.
“It was Giuseppe di Carlo and his men,” I said quietly, careful not to disturb the magnificent beauty sleeping in my hold. “That is all I got before she slept again.”
He nodded tersely as fury flashed over his face. “Of course, it was. He has been trying to start a war since Dante took over as Camorra capo. He does not like that we will not parlay with him. He does not like that we pose a threat to his territory and undisputed rein as mafia kingpin in the city.”
“Perhaps,” I allowed. “But it’s more than that. He made a deal with the Order, with Noel, to spy on Cosima in exchange for membership.”
“More power.” Tore clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Sometimes these stronzo, they do not understand that all power is not created equal. The taint of some, like this, will end you.”
“I can’t argue. He’s dead.”
His forehead dissected into deep lines of shock. “How so? You got to him already.”
I tipped my head toward my wife, sweeping my fingers over her crown to collect silky locks between my fingers. Her gorgeous mane comforted me as much as it did her. “This one took him out before she was shot. Or so she says.”
“Check on that,” he said, and it was half question, half musing. I had no doubt he would check on it even though he expected me to do the same. “Still, we will kill all of the men involved.”
I nodded. “That’s the plan.”
We locked eyes for a moment over Cosima’s prone, broken body, bonding over our dual protectiveness, and our combined rage and need for vengeance.
“Where were you when this happened?” he asked, and it wasn’t a reprimand, just curiosity.
“I confronted Noel,” I admitted. “Once again, I think he planned this exactly right so that I would be gone, and she would be vulnerable. Though,” I added in a voice like dry ice, “Dante was meant to be watching out for her.”
Tore winced as he drew Cosima’s hand to his face, pressing it to his cheek and closing his eyes. “This is my fault. I called Dante to a different project, something that needed doing for our organization. I didn’t realize…”
I wanted to keep the wrath I felt toward Dante locked up in a pin, wild and rabid, but I knew in the same way I knew Cosima was my reason for living that Dante would never let any harm come to her if he could help it. He must have had a reason for leaving her, one I would be sure to find out quickly.
“The Order is done,” I told Salvatore, needing him on my side, our side, more than ever. “But Noel is still locked up at Pearl Hall, free to make his maneuvers. I don’t want Cosima alone for one moment until he is locked up in prison where he bloody well belongs.”
Our eyes clashed, a deal struck in the lines of our vision.
“Bene,” he agreed. “Whatever you need. In fact, may I suggest you let her convalesce with me in my home upstate? It is very private, very secure. You will not have to worry.”
“I am not leaving her.” It was so out of the question that I would have laughed if my wife hadn’t just woken from a coma and my heart wasn’t still recovering.