Chapter Six

PRESENT

Raven

Emilio Bertone doesn’t trust the FBI witness protection programme enough to entrust them with my life again. According to my uncle, the bastard who has threatened me several times, and now wants to kill me, is not into legal games, so it’s not possible to play against him by the law. My uncle has sworn that he won’t stop until he catches the arsehole, but in order to focus on his task, he must first of all make sure about my safety. And of course, he is planning to do this without the involvement of any official authorities. He needs Sandro and Chris for the hunt, so they can’t stay with me. He has thoroughly discussed the issue with the boys, and they finally agreed that there’s only one solution: they will commission the company with the most professional, most trustworthy security escort service they know of, to protect me. The only thing my uncle has told me is that in the recent years he has worked with this security company several times, and they have provided the clan members with body guard services in sensitive situations, such as the delivery of goods to unknown business partners. I don’t care about the details, the less I know about his shady contacts, the better. If my uncle considers these people suitable, then they must be. I can see my uncle is ready to have a row with me, he’s shaping the arguments in his head to convince me. So he’s totally surprised that I come to terms with the situation without the slightest protesting. Without rebelling, I listlessly agree to what cannot be changed.

Emilio Bertone takes threats badly, and if his family, or, in the current case, his only niece gets targeted, he goes absolutely mad. Since it became evident that the attack was connected to the murder of Michèle DeVito in jail, and that I’ve become the target of their revenge, my uncle considers it his own personal mission to take the life of the bastard, whoever it might be. My uncle is sixty, he’s not very young, and his physical strength is not like before, but I believe he’s fit enough to wring the neck of the person with his own hands who has put his family in danger. Other than that, my cousins are also here, who, just like other members of the clan, are loyal to him and the family until death.

The meeting with my personal guard is scheduled for ten. And the departure for the hidden little house is timed for this evening. I glance at my watch: its half past eight. That means I still have time to talk to Johnny on the phone, now that seeing him in person is out of the question.

“I simply don’t get this, Raven. Why is it that we can’t meet? Why can’t I see you?”

“I’ve told you, Johnny. For security reasons,” I sigh into the phone with dejection.

“I rushed back into the city like crazy as soon as I heard what happened. I’m going straight to your apartment,” he insists.

“I’m not in my apartment.”

“Don’t do this to me. Where are you?”

“I’m with family, at my uncle’s house,” I say wryly, because I know my uncle would be fuming with anger if he knew I was sharing confidential details with anyone regarding my whereabouts.

“This is madness. I saw the shop on TV. Not much remained from it. I was dying with worry for you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you harmed?” he asks cautiously.

“Don’t worry. I’m all right.”

“What if I go there? I really miss you. I’m worried about you.”

“Unfortunately you can’t, Johnny. At least, not for now. I’d also like it a lot, trust me.”

After a big sigh and a short pause, he continues.

“And what now?”

I exhale tiredly, and throw myself on the bed, facing the ceiling.

“I have to disappear for a while.”

“For how long?”

“I have no idea. Until they catch the attacker, I think.”

“Why don’t you move in with me until things work out?”

“You are sweet, but I can’t. It’s too dangerous, they say.”

“I’d take care of you,” he offers flatteringly, and I smile to myself.

This man is genuinely worried about me, and I’d much rather spend my time with him than with complete strangers, laying low at some faraway place, until who knows when.

“I’d much rather move to yours, but I would put you in danger too. Believe me, there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll get professional protection until…” – until my uncle and my cousins finish the guy who wants to kill me, I almost say, but catch myself just in time, “until the police finds the guy.”

The response is deep silence, and I’m beginning to feel uncomfortable. I really don’t want to hurt Johnny’s feelings.

“Are you still there?” I ask uncertainly.

“Of course, it’s just… why don’t I go there right now?” he implores.

“It wouldn’t make any sense. They wouldn’t let you in,” I answer with dejection. “Anyhow, I have to leave soon.”

“Where are they taking you?” he asks carefully.

“I don’t know. To some refuge, they call it a protected house,” I roll my eyes, because the mere thought makes me shiver.

The answer is a few blurred curse words, and I more than agree with him. The bond between us has just begun to form, but after long years he is the first man with whom I could imagine a serious relationship. My quick affairs in London don’t even deserve mentioning, and I didn’t have many of them anyway. Since I came back to the States again, Johnny van Detten is my first serious boyfriend. He’s twenty-nine and really handsome. Although he says he doesn’t have any Latino blood in his veins, he still has some Italian-like features. He even reminds me of my cousins a little bit, although Johnny’s hair is much fairer, and his skin colour is paler. I won’t say I get dozens of butterflies in my stomach when we meet, or that his touch on my skin would fly me to heaven, but damn it! What the hell should I do with this naïve, romantic shit? I’ve already been there and done that, and learned my lesson. For a while I’ve only been smiling at the theory of perfect chemistry between two people. When I lived in London, my friend Amina and I made a silly observation that I obviously suffer from a shortage of phenyletylamin hormones. That’s why I’m unable to burn with passion, experience pink fogs of euphoria, and live in the clouds because of a man. I laughed it off, although I knew what had caused me not to let any man near my heart. Life produces strange things. I was unable to love, while my friend, Amina was struggling, because she was genuinely in love with two men at a time.

“I hope you won’t forget about me completely. Do you have the necklace at least, to remember me by it sometimes?” asks Johnny, bringing me back from my musings.

“Of course. I’m wearing it as we speak, actually. I love it,” I smile, affectionately smoothing with my fingertip the chiselled, blue, round medal that hangs from a fine gold chain, a gift from him.

I glance at my watch. It’s nine fifty-eight, and since I know that my uncle is keen on punctuality, I say goodbye to Johnny with a troubled heart, and he makes me swear that whatever it takes, I will contact him as soon as possible.

I take a last glance in the mirror, fix my hair, and quickly leave for my uncle’s study to discuss the details with the body guard. Damned Bertone family – I think wryly, then take a deep breath, knock on the door, and press down the door handle of the mafia don’s office.

As I enter, my eyes first of all fall on my uncle sitting behind his huge mahagony desk. I force a little smile on my face, and my uncle waves me in. Chris is talking to him while leaning over the desk, and Sandro stands in front of the window with a dark-haired, broad-shouldered stranger, who is taller than him. As the door opens, the others also turn in my direction, and I, with the same swing that I entered the room with, turn around and leave in the twinkling of an eye. I close the door behind me, and still clutching the door handle, I stare in front of myself. What the fuck was that? I could swear I’ve just seen Rafe Harlan in my uncle’s office. A few years more mature than in my dreams, but it was still Rafe Harlan. I try to swallow, but the lump in my throat, which is the size of Mount Everest, is about to suffocate me. I’m utterly confused, and while staring at the door’s surface from close, I’m more and more sure that my eyes were playing a trick on me. This is unreal. It must be the aftermath of yesterday’s attack. Yes, I’m in a shocked state. Because, what the hell would Rafe be doing in Emilio Bertone’s study?

My feet are shaking like jelly. My heartbeat accelerates to triple its speed, I feel like the hall turns upside down with me. I close my eyes tight, and take a few deep, calming breaths. Then I feel that someone presses down the door handle from inside, while I still hold on to it. Sandro steps out of the office, and looks at me with a worried frown.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, tilting his head.

I look at him uncertainly, and clear my throat.

“Y-yes. Okay.”

“Sure?”

“I just… forgot something,” I say, pointing towards the stairs with anxiety, but Sandro puts a hand on my shoulder, and pulls me close to him reassuringly.

“It will be okay, Rae. There’s nothing to be afraid of. We’ve discussed all this earlier.”

I also cuddle up to him, seeking comfort in his powerful closeness. His palm slides up and down my back calmingly, and when I lift my face and we look at one another, his warm brown eyes radiate affection and concern.

Sandro’s hand is still resting on my shoulder when we enter the office room together. I glue my eyes firmly to the carpet, hoping that the previous moment was just a play on the senses. Chris also steps up to me, places his hand protectively on my other shoulder, and leaning close, asks if everything is okay. I don’t have the foggiest idea what to say, but I do know that I can’t keep staring at the floor, so I cautiously lift my gaze. My eyes immediately meet his petrified stare. Space and time cease to exist around me as I watch him dumbfounded. Some bottomless, black vacuum sucks me in, and although I can sense Sandro talking to me, I don’t comprehend his words. This is him. Rafe fucking Harlan, from St. Thomas University. I have no idea how long I stand there frozen, holding my breath, before life slowly returns into my body, and I begin to sense my environment. As the cogwheels in my brain are slowly set in motion again, I begin to think that it might be a bad joke; that they want to fool me. What’s Rafe doing in the Bertone home, and where the heck does he know my uncle from? What does he want here? And do the others know anything about our history? With my chin dropped, I study Rafe’s face pale as a sheet, trying to work out where the trap lies. But other than the sheer shock, as he fixes his gaze on me with those charming blue eyes that knocked me off my feet the very first time, I see nothing else. I have the strong feeling that he’s just as taken aback as I am. His face is clean-shaven, his short hair is gelled back in style, and there is no doubt that the black suit on his muscular shoulder is taylor-made. He makes the impression of a perfect gentleman, or rather, a businessman. His appearance doesn’t really remind me of the flanker of the university rugby team, the guy who was so irresistibly cool in his hipster jeans and the uniform sweater with the St. Thomas logo. He’s still cool, but in a very different, threatening kind of way. I don’t know if the others can see it or not, but it’s obvious to me from his facial expression that he’s at least as shocked about our unexpected encounter as I am. All my strength leaves me, so I grab Sandro’s arm for support. I can only think about fleeing the office as soon as possible, locking the door of my room on myself, and crouching under my blanket.

First the attack, now Rafe Harlan. What is all this? Fate? Destiny? Just when I felt that my life was going to work out, and my things were getting normal, someone from above decided it was time to turn my world back around, and upset the boat of my life.

TO BE CONTINUED