“What the hell? What do you think you’re doing with that? He after you, honey?” She waved behind her, stepping forward a few inches to give Nicoletta enough room to slip by her. Just like that, she’d gone from angry to protective. She was probably at a Kain concert because his music spoke to her—a survivor of some horrendous event as well.
Nicoletta could see the west exit sign. There were only a few people between her and where she needed to go. She didn’t see how it was possible for Taviano to reach the venue before she could reach that exit. The temptation to do as her friends had done and go toward the middle was huge, but she believed in the Ferraros. If Taviano said he’d be there, somehow, he would.
She threaded her way through the next group, this time two men and three women. She heard the gun go off and more screams. Her heart thudded, and she prayed Armando hadn’t shot the woman who had stood up for her. She didn’t look back. She pushed harder, shoving her way past the men and nearly knocking down one of the women. Just as she reached the shadow the light was throwing across the floor, Armando grabbed her by her hair, yanking her head back, and she immediately reached back to stab at his eyes with her thumbs, but he turned his head to the side.
“You little bitch. You’re going to pay for that,” he snarled.
She raked the heel of her boot down his shin and, at the same time, slapped both hands over his to force the hand holding her hair flat on her scalp. She dropped low and spun around and then stood up fast, hoping to break his wrist. He howled and let go of her hair. She tried kicking him in the groin but he jerked his body to the side.
“Behind me,” Taviano ordered, coming out of nowhere.
She didn’t hesitate. She leapt to get behind his body. As she did so, two guns fired almost simultaneously. Something hot buzzed past her head and hit the wall behind her. Gasping, she caught at the back of Taviano’s shirt as he staggered back.
“Are you crazy? Benito will kill you if you touch that girl,” Armando snapped. “Get her friends. Get the other bitches. She’ll come with us, won’t you, Nicoletta? When we cut them into pieces, she’ll beg to come with us.”
Taviano smashed his fist into Armando’s face and dropped him like a stone. Before either of the other two men could turn their guns on him again, Nicoletta stepped in front of him.
“Go ahead and shoot me. Benito will skin you alive and you know it. And then he’ll kill your families.”
Taviano’s arm snaked around her waist and he dragged her back toward the glaring light of the exit sign.
The men left Armando struggling to stand and took off after Pia, Bianca and Clariss. Nicoletta caught at Taviano and started toward the door. He stopped her.
“Not that way, piccolo. You’re my woman. You’re about to find out what it is to be a Ferraro. Step into the shadow and keep your body behind mine.”
She’d never liked the feeling of being in the shadows, and yet she’d always been drawn to them. They’d always made her feel as if her body were being torn apart, but she knew she could hide in them; she’d done so on several occasions, just not always successfully. “You’ve been shot, Taviano. You need help. We have to get you to one of the medical facilities.”
“We’ll get there. I want you to do exactly what I say.”
He turned to face her. When he did, she could see the blood splashed on his jacket. He wore that same immaculate, classy, very expensive charcoal pinstriped suit that his entire family wore. The tie was a darker charcoal and the shirt was lighter charcoal. The men and even Emmanuelle always looked so distinctive, but she had to admit, when they got close to the shadows, they seemed to fade into them.
He cupped her chin with his palm. “You have to trust me like you’ve never trusted me before. I’m going to ask you to do things that are going to frighten you, and you’re going to have to do them without question. Can you do that for me? We don’t have time for anything else.” He was whispering, his voice incredibly low, but she heard every word.
She didn’t hesitate. All she did was look at the blood on his jacket and into his eyes. The music had faded. Everything around her faded but Taviano and the blood.
“Take off everything you’re wearing. Everything including your underwear, Nicoletta. Your earrings are fine. Lucia gave them to you. I had them made for you and asked her to give them to you. My cousin made them. You’ll wear my shirt.” He was stripping off his jacket and, one-handed, removing his shirt as he spoke. He was fast, too.
She didn’t look at him and she knew he didn’t look away. It was her boots that gave her the most trouble, but she got them off and the shirt on in record time. She knew about hiding in the shadows naked. She’d done so. With her clothing on, she’d been found every single time.
“When we go farther into the shadows, you don’t let go of me, you understand? No matter how it feels, no matter what, you don’t let go. Keep your eyes closed tight. You’re going to feel sick and disoriented.”
She was already feeling sick and disoriented. Her body felt like it was in pieces, as if when she’d removed her clothes, the material had been the only thing holding her together. Now, with just his shirt, nothing would hold her skin on, and she was being pulled apart piece by piece. The feeling sickened her. It helped when she closed her eyes, but she was terrified she was going to vomit all over Taviano.
“I’ve got you, tesoro,” he whispered.
His mouth moved so close to her ear, she felt his lips brush her earlobe. He wrapped his arm around her and locked her to his side. She immediately put both of her arms around his waist as far as she could and held on as tightly as she could, pressing her head into his side. She had no idea what they were going to do, but somewhere in her mind, there was a vague recollection of being in a similar situation and feeling this exact sensation.
Then she was moving so fast it felt like she was on a speedway, the fastest bullet train or park ride. Faster even than that. Her stomach dropped and rolled and was somehow left behind, or she would have spilled the contents down his rib cage. She knew her arms were around his waist, but her flesh was literally peeling off the bone in tiny pieces and flying away. She couldn’t look because she knew she would see only a skeleton holding on to Taviano.
She wanted to scream, or at least call his name, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t make a sound. Not even open her mouth. She refused to open her eyes, and he’d said not to. If she did, she feared her eyes would be sucked out of her face, just like her flesh had been torn off. If she lived through this, if she was intact when he stopped, she was never, never doing this again.
Just as abruptly as they seemed to speed, they came to a halt. Taviano held her steady for another moment, and then his hands went to her shoulders. She wrenched away from him, stumbling, her stomach heaving. She threw up over and over, emptying the contents into the corner of the small, dark room. She was grateful it was dark and ashamed she couldn’t handle however they’d gotten there. She didn’t even want to know how they had.
When she turned back, he handed her a wet wipe and a bottle of water. He had already slipped off the jacket and she could see his upper body, the rock-hard abs and his thick chest that always took her breath away. Now, all she could really see were the shocking streaks of blood splattered across it, coming from his left arm.