Page 126 of My Dark Ever After
“He was inside when the fire started, but he went out to help Lando and the others keep the fire from the house,” Stacci explained.
“Do you think he has Zacheo?” Carlotta asked, eyes wide and dark, the same color as the soot raining down around us.
“Maybe,” I allowed, taking one of my guns from the holster at my ankle and pressing it into Stacci’s hand. “If he comes back here, shoot him.”
“What?!”
“Do it, Stacci,” I ordered, holding my hands firmly over hers on the weapon. “Trust me. Shoot first and ask questions later.”
“I will look out for them,” John said, coming up to me with a soot-streaked face and a grave expression. There was a gun tucked in his waistband, one he must have been given by a foot soldier.
I did not take it from him. He had killed enough people in his time as a mafioso to have become an expert with it, even if it had been years. I gave him a solemn nod, thanking him for the offer to protect my family.
God knew I would always protect his.
“Will you find Zacheo?” Carlotta begged, her gaze reflecting the smoke curling over the top of the house. “Please, Raffa.”
“Of course I will,” I promised, turning to leave as Renzo, Carmine, and Martina joined us. “Martina, stay with them. Carm, Zo, help me find Leo and Zacheo.”
I sprinted around the house to the flaming olive grove, where some of my men had laid sandbags to stop the progress of the fire and were currently aiming two garden hoses at the burning edge of the trees.
“Where is Leo?” I asked them, already moving toward the fire.
How had he lit the fire if he was inside when the family noticed it? Had he set a device to go off to give himself an alibi? Was he using the cover of flame to get away undetected?
“He went in to find Zacheo,” Michele shouted over the loud roar. “So did she.”
She.
Panic tore into me with brutal, blunt-edged teeth.
“She?” I echoed, looking around for Guinevere.
“Your American,” he said, confirming my worst fears. “She heard Aio barking in another direction and ran into the fire before we could stop her.”
I stormed toward him, gathering his shirt in my fist to heave him to his toes so I could snarl in his face. “And you did not think to go after her to make sure she—they—were safe?”
“Leo told us to keep the fire back,” he explained, but he had lost all color as he stared into the ferocity of my fury.
“Hope she is unharmed, or I will make sure you regret that decision for the rest of your life,” I snapped, dropping my hold to study the olive grove. “Ludo, can you get to your drone?”
Without responding, my friend turned and raced for the house, where he kept the machine.
“There are acres of groves, Raffa,” Renzo said quietly. “We have no idea where they could be or how far the flames stretch after we lose sight of them down the hill.”
“Michele, where did Leo and Guinevere go?” I asked the cowed man beside me.
He pointed at two rows, one to the left and one to the far right.
Cazzo.
“We need to get to Leo before he disappears.” Carmine said the words I had been thinking. “If you confront him, he might stand down. I have to believe at least some part of him still thinks of you as his brother.”
“I’ll go after Guinevere,” Renzo promised. “I’ll find her and Zacheo, Raffa. I promise you.”
Fear soured the back of my tongue and made me want to gag, but I forced it back with a hard nod and looked to Carm, who gave me a grim smile before we both threw ourselves into a break in the fire.
Smoke enclosed us instantly, a thick, choking haze that burned my lungs each time I was forced to draw breath. We stayed as low as we could, making our way deeper into the fire, where whole sections of olive trees had been razed to blackened matchsticks.
