He glanced over at Bella. Yeah, she was worth it. Her life—the relief and happiness he saw in her face right now—was worth everything.
“If I fucked up with Massioni, I’ll handle it. Right now, I need to find a safe house for the day. I’ve got two Breedmates and a three-year-old Breed male with me here in Potenza right now. I need to make sure they’re somewhere secure.”
“Two females and a kid? I’m not gonna ask,” Trygg muttered. He went silent for a moment, then heaved a surly sigh. “How far are you from Matera?”
Savage knew the town, had prowled the ancient streets and subterranean caverns of the old settlement more than a few times in his youth. “It’s not far. An hour, give or take.”
“Get there. I know somewhere you can go.” Trygg gave him quick instructions, landmarks to guide him to where he needed to go once he arrived. From the sound of it, his comrade wasn’t sending him into the touristy heart of the historic town, but down into the Paleolithic sassi—the neighborhood of ancient limestone caves that clung to the steep walls of Matera’s central ravine. “Take the old stone steps behind the church. Follow the path on the left. Someone will be waiting to meet you and take you to a safe shelter.”
“Who am I looking for?”
“A Breed male with long black hair and obsidian eyes. His name is Scythe.”
“Scythe? Sounds like a real hospitable guy.”
“You didn’t ask for hospitable. You asked for someplace secure, and that’s where I’m sending you.”
“Point taken,” Savage drawled, reminded that Trygg was nothing if not literal. The deadly, unsociable male dealt in absolutes, whether it came to combat or conversation. “What I’m saying is, you’re sure about this male, this Scythe?”
“Completely.”
“Care to elaborate?”
There was a long silence, then Trygg finally said, “He’s my brother.”
Chapter 6
Bella hated to let go of Chiara and Pietro, but Ettore’s grave look as he ended his call to the Order left no question that they weren’t totally out of danger yet.
“Come on,” he said, walking over to collect them. “We can’t delay here much longer. It’s best if we get moving.”
“Back to Rome?”“There isn’t time for that now. It’ll be daylight in a few hours. My driving skills tend to suffer when I’m crispy.”
She smiled wanly, but it was hard to find any humor in the risks he was taking for her tonight. For all of them now. And she could tell from the tone of his voice that the urgency to move on wasn’t motivated only by his Breed aversion to ultraviolet rays. His concern went deeper than that.
“You think he’s still alive, don’t you?”
A tendon pulsed in Ettore’s square jaw. “If he’s not dead, I promise you I won’t rest until he is. But first I need to make sure you and your family are somewhere secure. My comrade in Rome is arranging for someone to meet us in Matera. We’ll have shelter there for as long as we need it.”
As Bella and Ettore spoke, Chiara stepped forward with her young son clutching her hand.
Ettore glanced at the boy who was looking up at him warily. He crouched down to his level and placed his hand lightly on the child’s shoulder. “You were very brave, keeping your mother safe in here until we arrived. Good work, Pietro.”
He nodded shyly at the praise, and Bella’s heart squeezed to see the little boy’s fear melt away under Ettore’s gentle treatment of him.
“How long will we need to stay away?” Chiara asked hesitantly.
Ettore’s gaze met Bella’s as he stood up. She knew that heavy look, what it meant. The two killers who’d shown up tonight hadn’t succeeded, thanks to him, but it was almost certain there would be more behind them. The old vineyard and the rambling house where Bella was raised might never be safe again. Then again, it hadn’t truly been safe in years. Not since Massioni entered their lives.
Combing her fingers gently through her little nephew’s dark hair, Bella met Chiara’s gaze. “We’ll figure all of that out later. Right now, we need to do what Ettore says, okay?”
“Yes, of course. May I gather a few things for Pietro before we go? I promise I’ll hurry.”
Ettore nodded and Bella glanced down at her red gown and bare feet. “I don’t suppose you have anything in your closet that would fit me, do you?”
Chiara smiled warmly. “You can look for something in your own closet, sorella. I kept your room just as it was on the day you were taken, in the hopes that you would come home again one day.”
The kindness of that gesture—the sisterly love from her brother’s widow—put a lump in Bella’s throat. “Thank you.”
She pulled Chiara into a brief hug before Ettore brought them all out of the panic room and back into the empty villa to prepare to leave.
A few minutes later, Bella was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and flats and a black T-shirt. Chiari held Pietro in one arm, a small bag containing his favorite blanket and toys and sundry other necessities slung over her other arm. Ettore took the bag from her and headed outside, leading the way.
“We have to leave the Pagani,” he said, bypassing the two-seater sports car. “There’s not enough room in it, but we also need to avoid drawing attention. I don’t like the idea of taking Massioni’s men’s vehicle, but I can ditch it after we get to Matera in case anyone’s looking for it.”
“I’ve got a truck out back,” Chiara said. She pointed to the barn behind the house. “It’s not fast, but it’ll get us where we’re going. And it’s plain enough that it won’t turn any heads along the way.”
Ettore considered for a moment, then shrugged. “Sounds better than our other options.”
They retrieved the rust-spotted old pickup truck and climbed in, Bella sandwiched on the narrow bench seat between Ettore and Chiara and Pietro.
It was impossible to ignore the heat of Ettore’s thigh pressed against hers as they drove off into the thinning darkness. Being this close to him again, her senses overwhelmed with the warmth and strength and scent of him, Bella knew a contentment—a feeling of security—that had eluded her for so long she hadn’t recalled what it was like to feel safe and protected.