SWNOVELS When He Takes: Chapter 3
An hour later, I pull up to Rafe’s mansion in Westchester. The security guard, a man called Hammer, turns pale when I roll down the window.
“Nero! We thought you were…”
“Dead?” I offer.
He swallows.
“I’m not that easy to kill.” I wave at the gate. “Want to let me in?”
“I apologize, but I have to check with the don first.”
“Do what you need to do.”
Hammer smooths a hand down his dress shirt and disappears inside the security booth. He comes back out less than a minute later. “Go ahead. It’s good to have you back.”
I give him a humorless smile. I’m not convinced Rafe won’t kill me on sight.
His instructions to me were simple—stay the fuck away from here. I’m about to throw a wrench into whatever working relationship he and Ferraro have established since I left.
Maybe I should be worried, but instead, I’m just numb. It’s like I left my will to live back at the penthouse, inside those mesmerizing blue eyes.
Well, I won’t need to keep going through the motions for much longer. All I’ve got to do is make sure Rafe hears me out and promises to take care of Blake before he pulls the trigger.
I park the car outside the front door and make my way inside the sprawling mansion where I’ve had many dinners and spent many late nights. Before Rafe married Cleo, we’d have dinner together at least twice a week. His virtuoso cook, Luca, made us the best fucking osso buco on the continent. Veal shanks slowly braised in sauce, served over saffron risotto, and paired with the perfect bottle of wine.
We’d shoot the shit the whole night, starting with work talk and then progressing into more personal territory. When Rafe was still engaged to Gemma, Cleo’s sister, I used those nights to needle him about the fact that he had a habit of checking out the wrong sister. He’d kick me out when I annoyed him enough.
I pause inside the foyer as a nostalgic smile tugs on my lips. I didn’t think I’d ever be inside these walls again.
For a moment, I stand there and absorb it all. It hasn’t changed. Not the round table with the vase of fresh flowers. Not the Renaissance paintings on the walls. Not even the small waiting area where I’d often sit and wait for Rafe to emerge.
The sound of approaching footsteps reaches my ears.
I recognize those too.
By the time my old boss appears, my smile’s been put away.
Rafe looks the same as ever. Shiny black hair, clean-shaven face, and a tailored shirt that hides most of his tattoos. I guess he’s had no reason to change. It’s only been six months, and for most people, that’s nothing, but I’ve traveled through purgatory, heaven, and hell in that short amount of time.
His expression is neutral, but his eyes widen slightly as he takes me in. “Nero.”
I spread my arms wide before letting them fall heavily to my sides. “Surprise.”
A flicker of what might be a smile appears on his lips.
Rafe rarely smiles. The sight of that small movement makes me clench my fists against the sudden onslaught of emotions. A wrench twists inside my guts.
He fucked up my life, but I’ve still missed the damn bastard.
Apparently, he shares the sentiment, because he does something completely unexpected. He crosses the room and pulls me into a tight embrace.
A choked laugh escapes me as I slap his back a few times. “My God, Cleo really did a number on you. Look at you, expressing all these emotions.”
He ruffles my hair, the way he did when we were teenagers running around New York together, doing everything we could to prove our worth to our fathers. It’s so familiar yet so uncharacteristic of adult Rafe that it makes my throat tighten with emotion.
He pulls away, and for a moment, his blue eyes dance with unmistakable fondness. They’re lighter than Blake’s, but they still remind me of her.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
I shrug. “Things kind of went to shit.”
“Let’s go sit down.”
He leads me into the living room and walks over to the bar cart. There are a dozen bottles, but he picks out Macallan 15. He splashes some of the amber liquid into two crystal tumblers, hands one to me, and motions at the sofa.
The house is quiet. “Is Cleo around?”
Rafe shakes his head. “Gemma had her baby. Cleo is with her in Italy until next week, and I’m flying there early tomorrow to spend New Year’s Eve with everyone.”
His words disorient me. I hadn’t even realized what day tomorrow is.
Blake will spend New Year’s alone.
It seems like something that shouldn’t matter, but the thought of her alone in this big city hits me with a fresh wave of regret.
If Cleo were around, I’d ask her to go over there and try to cheer Blake up. Would they get along? They’re both strong-willed and stubborn. They have at least one other thing in common—they both got married to guys they despise. Although it didn’t take too long for Rafe to win Cleo over. The thought that I won’t get the chance to do the same with Blake tugs at something deep inside of me.
“Well, maybe that’s for the best,” I mutter.
Rafe’s watching me intently as he brings his drink to his lips. “Where’s Sandro?”
I glance down at the bottom of my glass. Time to start fessing up to the clusterfuck that happened in Missouri. “Gone.”
“What happened?”
“He was killed.”
A beat. “Start from the beginning.”
So I do. I tell Rafe everything that happened from the moment we left New York. I tell him about Darkwater Hollow and Handy Heroes. I tell him about the Iron Raptors, and how they sniffed me out. I tell him about the pile of bodies I left in Missouri before I drove back to New York.
But I don’t tell him about Blake. Not yet.
“The Iron Raptors contacted Ferraro’s men and told him they had me cornered. Ferraro would have come hunting for me when those biker rats didn’t show up for their scheduled meeting.” I lean back and taste the whiskey, savoring the familiar burn as it goes down my throat.
“You made a mistake.”
I lift my gaze to Rafe and notice he looks pissed. “I didn’t have a choice. This would have blown back on you.”
“Giorgio has been helping us plant various false flags since you left. There have been at least five reports of someone seeing you, none of them true. Ferraro no longer pays attention to them. If no one had shown up to the meeting, he would have forgotten about you. You should have done like I said and stayed away from here.”
Heat prickles across my nape. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. I knew there was a chance you’d be spotted eventually, so I took precautions. But now it’s too late. Now there are photos of you in New York. Camera footage of you entering your condo. Footage the Ferraros are monitoring.”
“Can’t Giorgio erase it?”
Rafe exhales. “It’s not a risk I can take at the moment. Fabi is engaged to Cosimo Ferraro.”
Shock travels through me. “You gave your sister to that stuck-up fuck?”
“The wedding will be in spring. Or at least, it’s supposed to be. The Bratva have gotten a lot more aggressive, and my alliance with Ferraro needs to be rock solid. It’s never quite gotten there after you killed Michael.”
So I just seriously fucked him. Ferraro’s going to find out Rafe lied to him about my death, and that might put their plans in danger.
I drag my palms over my face. “I didn’t come here to beg you to save me. I’m ready to face whatever Ferraro wants to do to me.”
He arches a brow. “You came here to die? You should have kept running, Nero.”
“I couldn’t risk it.”
“Why not?”
Time to come clean. “I have a wife.”
“A wife?” His surprise is evident.
“I need you to protect her after I’m gone. The bikers I killed were her godfather and his men. Their friends will try to find her and kill her, and I can’t let that happen.”
Rafe puts his tumbler down, his brow furrowed. “You killed their men. They won’t stop until they get revenge.”
“Not if they learn she’s under the protection of Rafaele Messero.” Even those guys aren’t reckless enough to attack Blake while she’s on Messero turf. Their need for revenge isn’t worth their lives. Eventually, they’ll let it go, especially once I’m dead.
I wait for my old friend to give me his word, watching as he processes the situation. Rafe doesn’t agree to anything until he’s considered it from multiple angles. The only person who’s ever made him lose his cool is his wife.
Eventually, he nods. “All right.”
“Ferraro can’t touch her either.”
“As of right now, he doesn’t even know she exists.”
“Let’s try to keep it that way.”
“Then we have to go see him,” Rafaele says, standing up. “Right now. Before he gets a chance to look at footage of you and her or hear about your return from some other source.”
I get to my feet. “He’ll know you lied to protect me.”
“Obviously.”
“You wish you’d just killed me?”
Regret flashes inside his pale blue eyes. “No, Nero. But I wish you hadn’t come back. Because I can’t protect you now.”