Deep (The Pagano Family Book 4) (22 page)

He stopped and lifted his eyes to hers. She got the sense that he was searching inside her, trying to see how she was dealing with the story, if he was pushing too hard. He wasn’t. She felt nothing more than mild curiosity.

“I ran and pulled him off, and then he went for me. He grabbed my tie and choked me. He wouldn’t let up. I think he would have killed me. He would have killed us both. But I was bigger than him already, and strong for my age. I fought him off, chased him out of the room. I locked the door. I checked on my mother—she was still breathing. Then I checked to see if the phone still worked. It did. On a phone coated in my mother’s blood, I called my Uncle Ben.

“He came right away and took control of the situation. He took care of my mother, got her to the hospital. He sent men out to find my father, who had run off. He told me that something had happened in business that my father was having trouble coping with, but that that was no excuse, that a man didn’t bring his business home to his family. He told me he was proud of me. And then he asked me if I wanted to help my father be a better man. I said yes.”

This time, it was a long time before Nick spoke. He lifted her hand and kissed it, his lips lingering on her skin. It was one of her favorite things that he did, a sweet gesture that spoke of real, unguarded affection for her. She felt a tiny twinge of feeling, and it was that affection, reflected.

“Two days later, my father was strung up on a hook in a warehouse. My uncle cleared the room, and then he told me to teach my father his lesson. I did. With what he did to my mother in my mind’s eye, I used everything I had in me to teach him. My father was the first man I ever hurt for my uncle. From that day, I never saw my father lose his cool. I saw him struggle, but never lose. I never again heard him raise his voice to my mother, or to me. On that day, I began to be the man I am now.”

He stopped rubbing her tattoo and moved a hand over her hair, brushing it lightly back from her sore face. “I tell you that awful story when you have one so much worse because I trust you with it. That story comes from the deepest part of me. You and my uncle are the only people alive who know that it was me who taught my father that lesson. And I tell you because I am going to teach the men who hurt you, and the man who paid them to do it, their lesson. If I could do what I did to my own father, you know that the men who hurt you will pay dearly. And then the danger will be over. I promise you. No one will hurt you to get to me ever again. You’ll be safe. I’ll make you safe.”

Bev was losing her emotional numbness, and it terrified her. What had happened was too new, not even two days past. And now she had this story about Nick, which was twisted with pain and fear and love. She needed to be numb because she couldn’t contend with emotion while the pain in her body and her mind was so acute.

But Nick wasn’t finished. “I tell you for one other reason. I love you,
bella
. My life has been dark since I was fifteen. But you’re my light, my sun. I will do everything in my power to help you shine again. Anything you need, anything you want. If it’s in my power to make it so, it will be so. I love you.
Ti amo
.
Sei il mio sole
.”

Her emotions were rioting now, overrunning all her barriers, filling her head and heart with shards of broken glass. It was too much. She shook her head, irrationally trying to shake them away. She shook until she was dizzy, but they came on anyway. She was terrified and horrified. She was repulsed. She was sad and broken.

She loved him. She loved him so much. And somewhere in the deep of the morass in her mind, she wanted to comfort him.

“Nick, I can’t—” A shrieking pain was her reminder that she couldn’t speak. But she had to tell him. “I’m not—I don’t—”

He put his fingertips softly over her lips. “Don’t hurt yourself. I won’t push you. I’ll give you what you need. But if you believe me when I tell you how I feel, then don’t push me away. I will make this better. I promise. And you—you’re strong, Beverly. You stand up to me—nobody stands up to me. Even when you’re afraid, you fight for yourself. You’ll remember your feathers. You’ll find your light. I’ll help you. I’m here.”

Bev lost the last layer of numbness, and she dissolved into tears. Not even the pain her wracking sobs caused could stem them. Then Nick eased himself to her side on the bed and carefully pulled her close. She let him, and she cried into his t-shirt, his strong arms shielding her.

~ 15 ~

Sam let Chief Lumley into Ben’s house. Nick stood in the main hallway, waiting. He held out his hand. “Irv.”

The chief shook. “Nick. Sorry about this.”

“Just tell me what’s up.” Nick had neither the time nor the patience for bullshit today.

“I’ve got Chris Mills in my cruiser. He owns the bookshop?”

“I know who he is.” And he knew why he was in the cruiser. Why that cruiser was in his uncle’s driveway was the question.

“Right. And I’m sure you know what went on a while ago.”

Nick did. Mills had been at the condo, looking for Beverly and making a scene. The man Nick had watching the building had roughed him up some, and some old biddy resident had called the cops. Nick’s man had called him after Lumley had taken Mills off.

“I do. Why is he here?”

“He’s screaming that he wants to file a report against you for all manner of crap. Now, I can get in the way of that, but with the light that was on you with the bombing, I figure you don’t want him spouting his bullshit. I don’t want that, either.”

Jesus, the guy was stupid. What did he think he’d accomplish? But the last time Mills had made a scene, it had been clear to Nick that thinking was not his strong suit, at least not where Beverly was concerned. And the chief was right—they’d gotten the Feds off them, and cooled the media, fairly quickly after the bombing at Neon, but if they drew attention again, they’d be putting friends in difficult positions, and friends in difficult positions didn’t stay friendly long. “No, I don’t. But why aren’t you handling that? You know your solution has got to be gentler than mine.”

“He insists that if he doesn’t see Bev, he’s going to put some website reporter on you. I thought maybe you’d want to handle him—but Nick, with respect, this does need a gentle solution.”

He’d be the judge of that. But the guy was a Cove business owner. Disappearing him would leave a ripple. “Bring him in. Is he cuffed?”

“Yeah.”

“Uncuff him.”

The chief nodded and went out. A minute or so later, Chris Mills came through the front door, the chief right behind him.

Mills walked straight up to Nick and crossed his arms over his chest. His face showed no marks from his altercation with Nick’s man, so he assumed the point had wisely been made with body blows. “I should have known you’d have the fucking police chief in your pocket.”

Nick smiled. “Hey, Irv—my aunt and my mother are out back in the yard. Why don’t you go pay your respects.”

Chief Lumley hesitated, looking back and forth between Nick and Mills, and then he nodded and walked down the hall toward the back of the house.

“What are you going to do? Rough me up some more? Shoot me in the back of the head and drop my body in the ocean?”

“Both good ideas. But for now, I’m going to ask you what you want.”

“I want to see Bev. I want to make sure she’s safe, and I want to get her away from you.”

“No.”

Mills sneered. “Is she your prisoner again?”

“You’re not a smart man, Mills. If your brain worked at even half speed, you’d know that nothing good for you can come from challenging me. Making threats against me and my family—these are poor life choices you’re making.”

“I want to see her. I’m her friend.”

“Did you call her a ‘stupid twat’?”

Mills’ mouth had already been open, prepared for the next asinine statement, but in response to Nick’s question, he blinked and shut up.

“That’s answer enough. So you’re not her friend. In fact, I don’t think you ever were her friend, were you?”

“Fuck you. I’ve been her best friend since she was twenty.”

“That’s not true. Not if you want more. You want more, don’t you, Mills? You’re in love with her.”

Again, the idiot only blinked. And then he found his capacity for speech. In fact, he shouted. “So what if I am?! I’m a lot better for her than you are. I know her better and I’ve loved her longer. I’m safer for her, too. You’ve already gotten her hurt twice. She was in the break-in, wasn’t she? I saw her working that night. That was about you, wasn’t it? You’re going to get her killed next!”

With calculated speed, Nick shot his arm out and wrapped his hand around Mills’ throat. Before the man could react, Nick dragged him to the side of the hallway and put him against the wall. Mills’ hands grabbed onto Nick’s and tried to pry him off, but he had no chance. His face turned a livid shade of red that was his physiological response to blood and oxygen constriction mixed with a healthy dose of fear.

“Listen carefully, Mills. If Beverly wants to see you, she will go to you. Or she will call for you. Until that time, you will stay away from her. If you try to see her again, if you come to the homes of any of my family again, or if you make threats against me and mine again, I will kill you, and I won’t be quick.” He squeezed his fingers a little more, deepening Mills’ color to purple. “Do you understand me?”

From above him, a hoarse, strained voice called out, “Nick, stop!”

Without easing his hold, Nick looked up and saw Beverly standing at the top of the stairs, looking over the railing. She wore one of the long t-shirts he’d had brought from her apartment the day before, with her white terrycloth robe over it. Her knees were bare except for the gauze wrapped around them.

“Beverly, go back to bed.”

Mills struggled harder, until Nick tightened his grip enough to still him. He looked back over his shoulder and saw Beverly working her way down the stairs, both hands holding the bannister, putting both feet on each step before moving down to the next. She was in obvious pain.

“Let him go. Please,” she croaked.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed. You’re not strong enough.”

“Nick, please.”

Nick let him go. He left Mills doubled over and gasping and went to the foot of the stairs as Beverly finished her slow slog down. He took her hands and helped her down the last step. “
Bella
, don’t get involved in this.”

“It’s about me. How can I not be?”

He could hear the effort it cost her to speak. “You’re hurting yourself.”

From behind him, Mills rasped, “She’s come to me. So butt out.”

The guy was either a moron or he had a death wish. Or he was crazy in love. Either way, by the time Chris Mills left the premises, he would be done causing trouble, one way or another.

Beverly pulled her hands from Nick’s and walked slowly around him. “Is what you said true?”

“God, Bev. You’re so hurt! Look what he did to you!” Mills reached out to her, but she stepped back, toward Nick.

“Is it true?”

“What?”

“Are you in love with me?”

Mills stared at Beverly for a long time. And then he stood ramrod straight. “Yes. I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you. I love you so much, Bevvie. Come with me. Let me take you someplace safe. I’ll take care of you. Please.”

She took another step back. “So you’ve been lying to me since I’ve known you? You only wanted to be my friend so you could get with me?”

Seeing where this meeting was going, Nick supposed he could have felt smug. Instead, he felt worried. Beverly wasn’t strong enough to confront this information now. Only an hour before, he’d told her his story and held her while she cried. She was physically and emotionally broken, and the clear loss of a long friendship was the last fucking thing she needed.

“No! Not lying. I
am
your friend. I want to be more, but I am your friend. Bevvie, you know that—think of what we’ve been through together. We’re there for each other. I love you.”

Mills stepped toward her, and she took another step back. She was standing right in front of Nick now, and he laid a hand lightly on her shoulder. He could feel her shaking. When her hand came up to hold his, he felt a small measure of relief. He’d be her strength.

He saw Mills notice and process that nonverbal communication, and he saw a subtle but dangerous shift in his expression. The concerned friend had taken a step back, and the thwarted lover had stepped forward. Nick moved to the side, so that his arm was across Beverly’s shoulders. If the bastard took another step toward her, the conversation would be decidedly over; Nick would see to it.

When he spoke again, Mills’ voice was much lower. “You’re really picking the man who nearly got you blown up and let that happen to your face over me. I’ve been there for you, Bev. For years, I’ve been there.”

“Because you were waiting for your chance. Not to be my friend.”

“You’re splitting hairs.” He sighed. “But okay. I guess you’ve made your choice.” With that, he turned toward the front door.

Nick let him open the door and walk through it. Then he called out, “Sam. Hold him.” Through the still-open door, he saw Sam grab Mills’ arm. Then he turned to Beverly.

“Come and sit.” He led her into the living room and eased her down onto a sofa. She didn’t fight him.

But as he stood upright again, she said, “Please don’t hurt him. Just make him go.” Despite her struggle to make herself heard, almost no sound was getting through anymore, and the effort was causing her a lot of pain, and probably new damage.

He kissed her hand. “Shh. I’ll be right back.”

He went out to the front porch, where Sam had tight hold of Mills—who now, finally, had found the sense to be truly afraid.

As Sam held Mills, Nick walked up and stood right in front of him. Nick was a few inches taller, and he got close enough to force Mills to look up.

“What I said earlier stands. Unless she comes to you, you stay away from her. If you do anything to get on my radar again, I will kill you. That includes talking to reporters or anyfuckingbody else. Do you understand?”

Mills nodded.

“Say it.”

“I-I understand.”

Nick stepped back. “Good. I’ll find Chief Lumley, and he’ll do with you as he pleases.”

He turned and went back into the house.

~oOo~

The Paganos rarely did wetwork on the premises of the shipping company, but Nick preferred to stay near the harbor. The less transporting of the aftermath, the better. On this night, he and Matty met J.J. and Picker, J.J.’s second, at the far end of the harbor from Pagano Brothers Shipping, in a row of rental warehouses, used primarily as overflow storage for Quiet Cove businesses or offload storage for ships in for repair. The Paganos kept the unit at the end of the row, under a dummy name.

Such precautions weren’t obviously necessary, since the Paganos had always had wide leeway in Rhode Island to conduct business as they saw fit, but extra layers of care made sense nonetheless. There had been, over the decades of their power, the occasionally errant federal agent or state attorney who thought he or she might make his or her bones at the expense of the Paganos. The family’s relationships with people more powerful than such upstarts had kept them clear, but there was no point in making connections too obvious.

Uncle Ben had always advised that it was disrespectful of their friends to flaunt their favors.

J.J. and Picker were waiting when Sam drove up in Nick’s SUV and saw Nick and Matty safely out.

Matty. All that remained of Nick’s crew. When this night was done, he’d have to reassign him. He’d put him with J.J. Matty wasn’t capo material himself; his vices were too many. But he’d be a good and loyal eye for Nick regarding J.J.’s fitness to lead. When this night was done, J.J. would be the family’s head enforcer.