He didn’t have to say it. I knew what he meant. We would find Michael dead or alive and bring him home to us. I watched as Miguel’s men wrapped Ivanov’s man in a tarp and carried him from the room. Massimo whispered something to Miguel and nodded when he followed the guys out.
Vincenzo grabbed some towels and guided me to the small office attached to the massive room. He led me into the tiny shower my brother had installed specifically for cleanup purposes and turned on the water. The droplets washed over me, soaking my clothes to the bone. I watched in fascination as the water turned crimson and swirled around the drain, disappearing into the darkness below.
“Raise your arms.” Vincenzo’s voice drew me from the trance I had been in.
“What?” I blinked.
“Your shirt. Take it off. Massimo has some sweats for you to change into.”
I glanced at the blood splattered shirt, realizing for the first time what I had done. I wasn’t the brother that inflicted violence. Not like this. Sure, I had been in plenty of fights and had shot a few people. But something as personal as driving a knife into someone’s gut—no. That was Vincenzo. Not me.
My voice carried through the tiny shower as the steam filled the space. “What did I do?”
“What you needed to do?” Vincenzo reached in and cut off the water. “Take off your pants. They're soaked.”
The denim made a sloshing sound as I pushed them down and let them pool at my feet. Most would find it weird that my brother was helping me undress, but I didn’t. We were family, and right now—I needed him. Deep down, I think he needed to be the one standing beside me. He wrapped a towel around me and helped me step out.
“Dry off. I’ll grab the dry clothes.”
It was like I was caught in an alternate reality, unable to function independently. Vincenzo came back and handed me the sweatpants and shirt. Massimo leaned against the wall and watched as I pulled on the fresh clothes. He set a pair of shoes on the table and gave me a weak smile.
“These should fit you.”
I nodded and pulled them on. I closed my eyes and thought of Michael. Rachel missed him fiercely, and so did I. We had only just begun to explore the love we had confessed to having—only to have it ripped away from us too soon.
“Hello?” Vincenzo’s deep voice interrupted my thoughts. I watched as a myriad of emotions crossed his face. “We’ll meet you there. Tell her I love her.”
“What is it?” I glanced at him, worried something was wrong.
“Riley’s water broke. Drew is driving them to the hospital.”
“Them?”
“Rachel is awake and with her. Let’s go meet my babies.”
If something good could come from this nightmare, it was my niece and nephew. I pushed down the disgust I felt burning at my core and followed my brothers out. For now, I needed to bury the fury coursing through my veins and focus on this one good thing.
Twenty-Two
Rachel
Caught between heaven and hell, my dreams were filled with Michael. Some were blissful happiness, while others were almost too torturous to bear. After nearly two months of no news and fighting the sleep, I knew I desperately needed help. Antonio had convinced me to take sleeping pills. And while I slept, it was not a restful slumber.
“Hey… there you are,” Riley’s soft voice said, lulling me from another nightmare. “You looked like you were having a bad dream. You all right?”
I pushed myself to a sitting position and glanced around the room. “What time is it?”
“Around four. The guys had to go handle something at the club, so I promised to sit with you. Catarina was supposed to be here by now, but she's not answering her phone.”
I shrugged, “Maybe she’s working? Being an ER nurse can get hectic and I'm sure she's tired of babysitting the likes of us.”
“Yeah… if she was working. But she’s off today. I was about to call Donny when you started crying in your sleep. Another nightmare?” She cocked her head at me, her expression filled with concern.
“Yeah. I have them a lot.”
“I bet. I hate you saw that video, Rachel. No one should see their loved one like that.” My feet shifted off the edge of the bed and pressed into the wooden floor. For a moment, the room spun, and my stomach churned.
“Shit.” I bolted toward the attached bathroom and heaved into the toilet.