Page 35 of Hunting

“They took him.” Says Luca. His gaze hard as steal. No one fucks with his family. And you sure as fuck don’t fuck with his brother.

I know Luca. Shits about to get very dangerous in the streets of Chicago.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Livianna

THE COMPOUND ISin lock down and all hell has broken loose.

It’s chaos. I want to help. I don’t know where to go. Where to be. What to do. I want to ask Massimo what he needs. I won’t though.

He stormed into the office with Luca an hour ago, only stopping for a brief moment to tell me we were on lock down and that he needed to go. Then he kissed my forehead and stomped after Luca. Then there was a lot of yelling. Some crashing and breaking of objects. Then I saw Ricco and Bosco running down the hall and going into the office. Guards rushed to various positions in the house. It’s like everyone knew what to do, where to be, where to help, except me. I hadn’t felt so alone or so much like an outsider since I sat in the basement. Even Elena rushed past me and into the office without a second glance.

I suppose her involvement does make sense though. She’s a wizard with the computer. Massimo told me stories of everything she has hacked and the information she gathered that led to Santo being taken out and the rats in the family being rounded up. It was why my father had so many jobs I needed to help with before I was kidnapped. They had received an abundance of evidence and needed to force the rats out without making a scene.

The ones I worked with from other families like the Irish and Russian were their points of contact. I had a hunch that was the deal, I just didn’t know Elena was at the source of it.

Milan finally takes pity on me standing awkwardly against the wall in the hall and brings me to the kitchen. She says she’s witnessed a lock down a few times in her life. Each time she didn’t know what do to help, and rather than be in the way, she went to the kitchen and cooked. “Even in the midst of chaos the men have to eat.” She said.

So I here I am. Making sandwiches and coffee on repeat. Every time a tray is empty I make more. Each time the carafe of coffee is empty I brew more. I can see why Milan comes here during times like this. I may not be helping win whatever war is being waged out there, but in here I can help in my own small way.

Shortly after Milan and I started on sandwiches, Greta and Violet joined us. They set about making cookies and all variety of deserts.

“Sugar can be just as good as caffeine in these stressful moments.” Comments Greta. She’s right. A smile ticks at the corner of my mouth. I want to smile. Now isn’t the time.

“Here sweetie, can you take this tray to our men?” Asks Greta. Her hands outstretched with a tray loaded with a selection of food and a pitcher of hot coffee and a stack of disposable cups. Our men meaning Massimo, Ricco and Bosco.

“Are you sure they won’t mind me interrupting?” I question. I don’t want them getting mad at me. I don’t want to interrupt them and cause a delay in whatever it is that they are handling.

“Trust me. Massimo needs to see you. And everyone else will appreciate you thinking about them.”

“Okay.” I whisper. I’m not confident in this course of action. But to a degree, what she says makes sense.

I carry the tray down the hall. It’s slightly heavy, but I make it to the door. Al is standing guard outside it. He smiles at me and takes a half of a turkey sandwich. “Thanks darling.” He then turns to grab the door handle. With a knock he opens the door and says “they’ll appreciate the spread.” I smile at him and move inside the door.

Everyone in the room stops talking and stares at me. “Sorry.” I hurry over to a side table and set the tray down. I go to turn to leave, but I’m stopped by a large set of arms picking me up. It’s Massimo. His arms squeeze me almost to the point of pain. I don’t whimper or say a word. Greta was right. Massimo needed me.

I hug him back. My legs going around his hips so he can put his hands under my butt to support me. He walks me back to the couch, were he falls down into its soft cushions. He tucks his head into the curve of my neck and shoulder and breathes me in. The tickle of his warm breathe sooths me.

I slowly stroke the hair at the base of his neck. He loves when I do it after sex, or whenever he is cuddling me.

“Massimo.” Says Bosco. He’s standing near a large round table, looking at us. Everyone is. No, not us. Me. Why are they looking at me?

“No.” Replies Massimo, a bit louder and harsher than I expected.

“It’s a good plan.” Pipes in Elena.

I can’t help but wonder what they are talking about. I won’t ask. They can tell me if they want. Massimo’s arms go tighter on me. He pulls my head down to his shoulder. I rest my cheek against him. It feels important that I stay in his arms. Just like this for the time being. “Not happening. I won’t risk her.”

Her?

Me.

They are talking about me. I try to pull away to look at Massimo. He won’t let me. “I’m not risking you. It’s not happening. Find another way.” His voice cracks. My big scary Mafia man is scared. What is the plan? How bad could it be?

“We’re running out of time.” Whines Luca. He sounds distressed.

Massimo still won’t let me move. So I don’t. But I do start asking questions. “Time for what?”

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