145

    CATERINA

    There’s a ringing in my ears and a high–pitched squealing that makes it nearly impossible to hear anything. I can vaguely make out Gianni’s shouting. My father shouts something back, but I can’t make out the

    words. It’s like trying to listen to someone speak while you’re underwater.

    The smell of smoke tickles my nostrils. What is burning Gianni rushes towards me, his hands cup my cheeks and I want to tell him I’m okay but I can’t hear my own voice.

    What happened?

    The look on his face is pure terror, and his hands wrap tight around my arms as he pulls me through the kitchen, my Dad close behind us. Once outside, the fresh air helps a little, but I still can’t put the pieces together on what happened. All I know is that my heart’s pounding out of my chest, and I think I’m going to throw up

    “Are you alright?” I can read Gianni’s lips even if it sounds like he’s talking to me from behind à closed door. He runs his hands over my arms, torso, face, and neck. “Were you injured?” I shake my head hard and he touches his forehead to mine for a moment before letting me go. My Dad gathers me in his arms.

    “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice muffled. My head bobs up and down, and I lean against him when he wraps me in a protective hug. I can’t get my body to stop trembling.

    A minute ago, Gianni was on one knee, looking up at me with so much love I didn’t know how I could take it. I was overwhelmed, overjoyed, and blissfully unaware of what was about to happen. Everything was finally clicking into ce; my happy ending was within sight.

    Now, Gianni paces like a caged animal, shouting into his phone. He even kicks a patio chair into the pool in his rage.

    “What happened?” That’s all I can say, over and over, while thin wisps of smoke begin drifting out through the partly opened sliding door.

    “An explosion,” Dad says close to my ear. “Something exploded.”

    “That fucking package!” Gianni roars.

    “What package?” My question is swallowed up by Gianni’s continuous shouting. I’ve seen him like this before. He is ready to kill someone.

    “There was a package.” Dad is probably shouting, too, since his ears are probably ringing as bad as mine are. “It came when you were in the bathroom.”

    “I want you back here now!” Gianni bellows into the phone. “Right now, immediately, and on the way, call everybody in.”

    Then he stops in his tracks, looking at me. “You still have eyes on Tatiana, right?” he asks the person on the other end–I’m guessing Roger. I tense up, gasping, and Dad’s arms tighten around me.

    “She’s fine,” Gianni tells us before turning his attention back to the phone. “Get her here, now.”

    He then puts his phone away,cing his fingers together on top of his head. “I should have known. I should have fucking known!”

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    “What the hell is going on?” Dad demands. “What the fuck did you get her into this time?”

    “Dad, don’t,” I beg, but he doesn’t want to hear it.

    Gianni throws Dad a steely re. “Not now.” He reaches for me, yet Dad refuses to let me go.

    “Please,” I plead. “I’m okay. Are you?” He looks tine, uninjured like Gianni and me, although he’s shaking from head to toe. I can only imagine what must be going through his head.

    “I’m going back in there,” Gianni decides.

    “No, don’t!” On impulse, I try to follow him, but Dad refuses to let me go no matter how much I twist and fight to escape ihis /igrasp. “Don’t go!”

    “Let him do what he needs to do,” Dad insists.

    “I don’t understand!” Though now that the shock is starting to clear from my mind, I think I get it. Somebody bombed the house. Somebody’s still trying to kill us. Trying to kill my baby.

    I should be afraid–and I am. I’m scared to death that there will be another explosion while I stand here trying to make sense of the madness. I’m terrified of losing Gianni. What if he neveres back through that door? There’s a thin line between fear and rage. The rage is taking over, turning the terrified pounding of my heart into something murderous.

    They tried to kill my baby, again.

    And I don’t think it’s any mystery who’s behind it.

    “We have to get away from the house,” Dad decides, pulling me along the patio, and around the pool until we’re standing at the far end. “Jesus, why do you want any part in this family?”

    I ignore the question once Gianni emerges, waving at us “Come on. I want you to ret her out of here.”

    “Is it safe?” Dad asks.

    “The box was destroyed. There’s nothing left to detonate.” When Dad doesn’t move fast enough, Gianni charges at us, taking hold of me. “I mean it. I want her out of here, and you have to be the one to take her.”

    “I’m not leaving you!” I may as well be talking to myself for all the good it does. Gianni pretty much ignores me as he rushes me through the house, where the rm is still shrieking. It’s like an ice pick drilling into my eardrum. We hurry down the hall from the kitchen, where ster dust is drifting through the air and the acrid smoke from a small fire flickering in what’s left of the entry hall.

    The sight of it stops me dead in my tracks. The windows to either side of the front door are blown out, and the table next to it is in pieces. The artwork sted off the walls, and a nce toward the living room shows the same thing happened in there–even the big t screen was knocked off its mounting and is now on the

    floor.

    All that rushes passed me in a blur as Gianni sprints through the house with me in tow. I don’t think I take a breath until we’re outside again, where Roger’s car is flying up the driveway.

    “What the fuck happened here?” Tatiana jumps out of the passenger seat while Roger barely ihas /ithe car in park before flinging the door open.

    “Where were you?” I can’t believe that with everything going on, that’s the first question I ihave /ias Tatiana

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    runs toward me.

    “I was just out.” After hugging me, she stares through the open door into the house. Her mouth hangs open briefly before she whispers, “What happened?”

    Gianni mps a hand over her shoulder and turns her toward him. “Were you expecting a package tonight?”

    Her brows draw together, her gaze darting to the destruction again and again like she can’t make sense of it. That makes two of us. “Yeah? I think so. It was supposed toe today.”

    “Where was it from? Where did you order it from?” Gianni barks.

    “Are you using me of doing something wrong?”

    “That’s not what he’s saying,” Roger insists as he joins us, standing at her side. “Whoever sent it either made a big mistake, or they always intended to send you a bomb.”

    “A bomb? I ordered a couple of bras, for fuck’s sake!”

    It’s Dad who cuts through the growing panic. “It’s obvious what happened.” A changees over him–his eyes go narrow, unyielding, and now I see the longtime detective. Like he slid back into the role. “Whoever did this must have intercepted the UPS truck. It would be best if you had your men search nearby. They could have killed the driver and left the body somewhere. They ced the explosive in the box and left the mailingbel intact to make it look legitimate.”

    With his hands on his hips, he turns in a slow circle. “You can’t see this ce from the street. They could have used a timer, or someone might have remotely detonated it after a certain amount of time. How long would you say it was?”

    Gianni shrugs. “Five minutes?”

    “That sounds about right. Was the box heavy?”

    “Not very. You saw it. I practically tossed it onto the table.” His eyes close, brow furrowing like he’s in pain. “I fucking tossed it.” My blood runs cold at the thought. What if it had detonated then and there? I could have lost the two most important men in my life.