Page 22 of Mafia And Taken

I spent the rest of the afternoon curled up on the couch, reading the copy of Anne of Green Gables I had picked from the shelf.

Later, Alessio came in and I looked up from the page I was reading.

He moved like a jaguar with prowling, precise movements, and he looked primed to launch into battle at a moment’s notice. He was still wearing his knife sheath and gun holster, reminding me that he was highly trained—he knew how to use a weapon and he wasn’t afraid to use it to lethal effect. He always looked in complete control of any situation—I doubted he ever lost control, not even of his emotions.

“Um, I hope you don’t mind me borrowing one of your books?”

He cocked his head to one side and regarded me. “Of course not. How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I guess. Definitely less exhausted.”

“What are you reading?” He looked at the book in my lap.

I picked up the book and held it up for him to see the cover.

“Ah, the trials and tribulations of Anne with an E.”

“You’ve read it?”

“Several times,” he replied dryly.

I couldn’t help gaping at him. “Really?” I found that hard to believe.

“Really. It’s Debi’s favorite book, and I used to read it to her at bedtime. She’s old enough to read by herself now and has her own set of the Anne books in her bedroom—I got them for her on her 10th birthday. But when she was little, she liked to curl up on my lap in the rocking chair while I read to her. I don’t know how many times we read that book.” It did look worn in a well-loved kind of way.

He smiled as he remembered something. “She always used to ask why we had to live in such a modern home. I reckon she would be happiest in an old rambling house somewhere, a place with lots of charm and character.”

“Have you always lived here?”

“No, we moved to this house when our parents died. Before that, Marco and I shared an apartment for a bit. But when our parents passed away, we bought this place and moved our siblings in with us. Camillo was nine but was already acting like a grumpy teenager by then. However, Danio was only six and Debi was five years old, so Danio and Debi were still into bedtime stories.”

“So that’s why you have so many children’s books on your bookshelf?”

“Yes. Marco was never really into books, but I always loved them, so I didn’t mind being on story-time duty.”

ALESSIO

Late afternoon, Dr. Cotrone visited again to check on Cate.

“How’s the patient today?” he asked me before heading up to see her.

“Non-communicative.”

“Ah, I see. What I mean is how’s her head?”

“Tell me, Doctor, how likely is the concussion to have caused some memory loss?”

“What sort of memory loss are we talking about—significant periods of her past or more recent events?”

“It seems to be around the events of the last few days, since the Bratva kidnapped her and her father.”

“The physical trauma of a blow to the head and concussion can cause headaches, irritability, and problems with memory. However, sometimes it’s the emotional trauma that causes the memory issues—the brain is blocking out the memories to protect the individual’s mental wellbeing.”

“But isn’t it better that they talk about what happened, so they can come to terms with it and get over it?”

Dr. Cotrone regarded me silently. “Are you asking because you need to get information out of her or because you are concerned about her mental well-being?”

I ran my hand through my hair. “I don’t know.” I didn’t know, but if I had to guess, I was afraid the answer would be both.

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