“Everywhere you see these, we have armories. Some are in the floor, the walls, the attics. We stashed them everywhere. This place was our last stand. We knew Miceli was going to come at us and we couldn’t trust anyone. Val and I renovated this lake house as fast as we could over the last year.”
Emme hated the way Dario’s voice was so thin. He clearly was hurt. She risked a quick glance at Enzo. Would Dario be telling the Ferraro family details like this if he expected to survive?
Enzo put his hand on the small of her back, a comforting gesture, but he kept his eyes on Dario’s phone. “And these squiggles?”
“Those are doors to get into the walls. Inside, the walls are narrow. All of you are big, much like Val and I are, but the women wouldn’t have any problem moving through the house in the walls. It’s another way to escape. One exit leads to the garage, one to the boats, and one to the vault in the guest room. I can make it through there, but my shoulders hit either side. A bigger man might have trouble if he’s not careful, especially in the pitch dark. They didn’t put any lights in there. You have to have a flashlight or some kind of light.”
“Send this to my phone. I can share with the Ferraros,” Enzo said.
“Give me your fuckin’ word that Valentino and Giuseppi come out of this alive.” Dario sent the information to Enzo’s phone.
“How the hell can I guarantee that? I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t trying to save them,” Enzo snapped. “I think you lost a little too much blood yourself.”
Emme swallowed down her fear for Valentino. “Dario? You believe Miceli knows about the lake house, don’t you? You really think he’s going to come for Giuseppi, Valentino and you, with an army.”
Dario looked up at her, his dark eyes moving over her face. “Yeah, Emme. Miceli’s going to come. When he does, it won’t be pretty. He hates all three of us. You have no idea the kind of hatred someone like that can have. What he’s capable of and what he’s taught his sons to be. I don’t want them to get their hands on you. Valentino has gone to great lengths to ensure they don’t.”
She frowned. “What does that mean? When did Miceli ever try to get me?”
Dario shook his head. “I’m tired, Emme. I’m fucking tired. Go find out how Val is and send me an update. I’m going to lie down for a few minutes. Enzo, keep me in the loop.”
“You got it.”
“When he comes, Enzo, he’ll try to overrun the place. Boats, ground, maybe even air. He’ll strike hard.”
“We’ll be ready.”
What had she gotten her family into? This was Saldi family business, and now her entire family was involved, other than Francesca, Stefano’s wife, and his son, Crispino, who were safe in their penthouse at the prestigious Ferraro Hotel with Vittorio’s wife, Grace. Emme knew that Stefano would never have left without first securing his wife and child, as well as Grace, surrounding them with protection.
Her phone vibrated, and she yanked it out of her jeans pocket. Stefano. Her heart jumped. Clenched. If something had gone wrong with Val, he would have just said so, right? Without a word, she turned and hurried back to the master bedroom, anxiety making it difficult to breathe.
“Is he alive?” The question tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop it, revealing too much, but then what did it matter? She’d already asked Stefano to come, to put their lives on the line for the man who had betrayed her.
Emmanuelle hurried over to the bed. The doctors and nurses had cleaned up the surgical site. Valentino lay on fresh sheets, thanks, she was certain, to Mariko. Vittorio sat in a chair, legs sprawled out in front of him, an IV in his arm, fluids going into him, just as fluids were going into Val. Val looked pale, his dark hair emphasizing the unusual color, but thankfully, most of the blood had been washed off.
“Bullets didn’t hit anything vital,” Stefano reported. “I never saw anyone so lucky. He was mostly in danger from blood loss.”
“He was hit several times,” Emme whispered. Tears burned behind her eyes. She didn’t want anyone to know. Crying was weakness. He was her weakness. Valentino Saldi. Her failing.
Stefano curled his palm around the nape of her neck. “Vittorio gave him so much blood, he’s more Ferraro than Saldi now.”
“Dario says Miceli has an army and that they’ll come here, Stefano. I didn’t mean to involve our entire family in their war. He was dying, and I just called you. I always call you when things go to hell.” She turned her face up to his. “I’m sorry.” She loved Stefano with all her heart, but she loved Valentino with every breath in her body. “I couldn’t let him die.”