Salvatore: a Dark Mafia Romance(65)

Effie nodded and walked ahead to the front door.

“What meeting are you going to?” I asked, not sure if I liked him going to any meeting after Luke had just been shot.

“Luke’s shooting is just one of the incidents. Two of our businesses have been attacked as well.”

“What businesses?” I knew they had several shops, and I didn’t want to know what those shops fronted for.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “What matters is that what I feared would happen in time, what Luke was working on, is here now.”

“Luke? But—”

“He’s in the hospital, I know.”

“Is it Dominic?”

His face changed, and he looked just beyond me. “I’m not sure, Lucia.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“That the time for war, it’s dawning.”

Salvatore’s phone rang, and he reached into his pocket to get it. “I’ll call you right back,” he said and disconnected the call. “Let’s get you inside and settled. I’d rather have you at home, but this will have to do for now.”

We headed for the door. Salvatore slid the key into the lock and opened it. Effie went directly into the kitchen, leaving us alone for the time being.

“You’ll be safe here. I’m leaving four men outside. They won’t let anyone in.”

“Or out, I’m guessing.” He turned to me and took my face in his hands.

“Correct.”

He looked at me for a long moment.

“This is one I really, really need to trust you on, Lucia. I don’t have time to go looking for you, and I can’t keep you safe if you disappear.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good, because if you do, I’ll take my belt to your ass again, and this time, it’ll be a month before you can sit down.”

“I said I’m not,” I snapped, not wanting that memory.

He nodded then kissed my mouth, his hands still on either cheek.

After walking him out, I glanced once more at the cars parked out front. One man sat inside each one. I wasn’t sure where the others had gone. Probably around the house. I didn’t care as long as they didn’t come inside. I closed the door and went to the kitchen to find Effie had taken out flour and a big bag of M&M’s, but even she wasn’t snacking on them.

“I can’t reach the other stuff,” she said, her tone somber. “M&M cookies are Uncle Luke’s favorites. Mommy has the recipe on her iPad.”

I smiled and squatted down to her level, rubbing her arms. “The doctors are going to do everything they can to make sure he’s okay, understand?”

She nodded, but her face remained serious. “He and mommy had a fight last night. I heard them.”

“Their fight doesn’t have anything to do with what happened. You know that, right?”

“I’m scared, Aunt Lucia. What if he’s not okay? What if he doesn’t wake up anymore?”

How could I answer that question, when I didn’t know myself the outcome? I stood and looked around, finding an apron, my mom’s, in the drawer she kept it in, neatly folded as if she’d just had it on yesterday. My dad hadn’t gotten rid of anything of hers. In fact, I was sure the closet in his bedroom would still be full of her clothes unless Isabella had packed everything up. I hoped she hadn’t.

I slid the apron over my head and tied the strings at my back. “This used to be your grandmother’s apron,” I said to Effie.

“She’s in heaven,” Effie said as she opened the same drawer and took out a second, smaller apron. “This one is mine. I got it for my birthday.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty one. Shall I help you tie it?”

She nodded.

“Okay, let’s get started. Where does mommy keep her iPad?”

“Here.”

I followed her into the living room, where she opened a drawer in the coffee table and pulled out the tablet, punching in the code before handing it to me.

“It’s 0-0-0-0.” Effie shook her head. “I cracked that one in no time.”

I ruffled Effie’s hair and led her back to the kitchen, looked up the recipe saved in the Favorites tab, and we got to work. It took much more time than I expected because Effie insisted on using only the colors of M&M’s that Luke liked best, and she patterned them into individual smiley faces. We spent the rest of the day playing in her room or watching TV, and I reheated lasagna I found in the fridge for dinner. At eight o’clock, I took her to her room and read her a story before putting her to bed, anxious that I hadn’t heard from Isabella yet. When I’d tried her phone a few times, it had gone right to voice mail.