“I wasn’t going to,” Newborn said hastily.
Giovanni didn’t need shadows to hear the lie. Evidently, neither did Taviano. He hit the man square in the face. Once again, the punch was so hard it sent Newborn flying backward out of the chair. The chair flew several feet away and landed upside down.
Giovanni walked around the writhing, screaming man, back to his brothers and Emme. Taviano came with him. “You want to tell Stefano what’s going on?” Giovanni asked his youngest brother.
Taviano shrugged. “Pretty certain all of you know Nicoletta was supposed to be my woman.”
No one looked surprised. They nodded, but Stefano just stared at his youngest brother. Nothing ever got past him. “Was supposed to be your woman? What the fuck does that mean? She is your woman. You don’t have many chances as a rider to find a woman who is your partner. She was made for you. She’s everything you need, Taviano. I explained how this works. You can find a woman compatible that you will feel affection over time for. That’s what Salvatore was hoping would happen, but you’re not capable of loving her. Not really loving her. Nicoletta is that woman you will love with everything in you, deep down in your soul. She’ll own you. She’ll be everything to you.”
“She would have been that woman,” Taviano corrected. “I would have been the man for her, but I’m not. Not with the things that happened to her. Life shaped her in ways I can’t undo. I can’t be any different, and neither can she.” He sounded matter-of-fact, but his shadow was connected with every one of his brothers as well as Emme’s. He was hurting. He was raging. His every instinct was to go get his woman.
Stefano stepped close to Taviano. “She belongs to you. You were put on this earth to see to her every need. You do your job. Whatever it is you need from her, those instincts, those desires and needs are in her. You might have to go slow and find your way, but it’s your duty to her. In any case, you’re going to go out of your mind the first time some man puts his hands on her. I don’t want to be cleaning up dead bodies after you. Figure it out.”
“Yeah, well, I pretty much blew that entire go slow and find my way thing,” Taviano admitted. He glanced across the room, saw Newborn crawling toward the door. Unhurriedly, he crossed the room. “I wasn’t exactly gentle with her when I took her home the other night.”
He kicked Newborn in the ribs, a vicious front kick snapped out with tremendous force. Newborn howled and rolled over, holding the ribs that had been broken like twigs.
Taviano walked back to his family without missing a beat. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“What exactly did you do?”
Taviano shook his head. “Suffice it to say, I was drunk, furious and out of control. Not a good combination, especially when she needed sober, calm and complete control. I’m surprised she didn’t try to run.”
“She quit the job at the flower shop,” Emmanuelle volunteered. “She got a job at Salvo’s restaurant. If you take another woman out, you’d better avoid that place.”
“We don’t take women to our territory ever unless they’re our proven partner,” Stefano reminded. He glanced at Vittorio. “You’re quiet.”
“I guess it skipped me.”
Stefano frowned. “What do you mean? Skipped you?”
“You found Francesca, Ricco found Mariko, and now Giovanni found Sasha. I should have been next, but Taviano has Nicoletta. Emmanuelle comes after him.”
Emmanuelle shook her head and stepped back to distance herself from her brothers. Stefano frowned. “Taviano found Nicoletta before Ricco and Giovanni found their partners. She’ll come along. Have faith.”
Vittorio looked a little shocked. “I didn’t think of that. I suspected Nicoletta was Taviano’s, but until he confirmed it, I guess I didn’t count that time.”
“What did you find out about traumatic brain injuries?” Giovanni asked as he slowly made his way across the room to stand beside the moaning, rocking body. Newborn had pulled his legs up and was writhing in the fetal position.
“Sandlin has one of the best doctors in the country,” Stefano said. “Sasha did her research. I contacted him and told him the family would pay for any additional therapy or resources he felt would help her brother. I also asked about other doctors and therapies here in the States as well as other countries. I’m sorry, Giovanni, he said they were doing everything that could be done. He was willing to try a couple of other noninvasive techniques, but as to his memories, they aren’t coming back. As for the prognosis, the longevity of his life, that doesn’t look that good, either. They want him comfortable and happy.”
Giovanni had been fairly certain that was what Stefano was going to tell him. He’d done a little research and the doctor’s name came up often along with headlines using the terms leading edge, cutting edge, the best the United States has to offer the world. He sighed and planted his feet on either side of Newborn’s head.
“I was afraid of that,” he admitted. He looked over at his brothers and sister. Each of them nodded. He reached down and grasped the hit man’s head between his hands and yanked hard, breaking the neck in the grip he’d been taught and had to perfect since he was young. All the while he looked at Stefano. “Did the doctor specify how long he thinks Sandlin has?” He dropped Newborn on the floor and stepped back, dusting off his hands.
“He didn’t think long. Maybe three years, but that’s best-case scenario. He has chronic subdural hematomas. They operated once already, drilling holes to relieve the pressure, hoping to curb the seizures. The leaks continued. They’re slow, but even trying twice, they’ve been unable to repair them. He’s getting worse. Eventually, it’s going to kill him.”
Giovanni went to the corner and began to peel off his clothes. He threw his gloves and shoes into the bag. Taviano did the same. The others weren’t close enough to Newborn to get even a drop of blood on them. The two changed into the clothes they’d brought with them.
Emilio glanced at his watch. “Sal will be arriving any minute. You can get home, he’ll take care of this.”
They nodded and started back up the stairs. “Let’s meet at Biagi’s in a couple of hours. That should give us time to get ready,” Stefano said.
Giovanni thought two hours would be perfect. He couldn’t wait to get back to Sasha. He was silent, as was Taviano, on the way home. He didn’t have the right words to say to his brother. He could feel Taviano’s temper smoldering beneath the surface. He understood, because if he knew who his woman was, after waiting so long, he’d want to go after her as well. Nicoletta was eighteen and traumatized. Being with an older and very controlling man wasn’t going to be easy for her—or for Taviano. His brother was right, she needed careful, gentle handling, and that wasn’t in his personality.
He lifted a hand and sent Taviano a small, regretful smile as the car pulled away. When he turned around, his entire body came to life. She was there. In his home. In his bed. Waiting. Heat sang in his veins and rushed to his groin. His heart beat hard, and it felt like a rhythm of joy.