Chapter 9

Trucks rumble down the oasis and their engines make my stomach twist with anxiety. I lean against the railing on the front porch of Stefania’s place and watch them slowly rumble to a halt.

“I keep thinking about the attack,” I say, and Stefania comes to stand next to me. “Every time there’s a firework or an engine backfires, it’s like someone’s shooting at me again.”

She puts her hand over mine. “We’re all still dealing with it.”

“Even those trucks freak me out.” I try to smile at her because she really doesn’t need to deal with my trauma. She’s got plenty of her own. “I’m fine though. Honestly, I shouldn’t complain.”

She gives me an odd look and is about to say something when a man calls out her name. He strides over, big and broad, with a handsome grin and good hair, dressed in comfortable tactical gear and flanked by soldiers.

“Well, look at this,” he says, stopping at the base of the porch. “My little sister. Do you plan on visiting Philly anytime soon or do I have to keep making excuses to come see you?”

“Keep making excuses,” Stefania says and goes down to give him a hug. “Saul, you remember Elena?”

“Sure do. How are things in the Bianco clan?”

“We’re keeping it together.” I join the pair of them and we walk over to the trucks. Bianco soldiers are spilling out from the surrounding houses and hustling over to get the trucks open. They’re packed with heavy-duty boxes, each of them marked as if they’re full of raw meat, but everyone knows what’s actually inside.

Guns. Lots and lots of guns.

“You ladies going to help unload?” Saul asks, shading his eyes. “Looks like there’s not much for us to do.”

“I can carry a few boxes,” I say, pretending to flex. One of the guards whistles at me and another punches him in the arm. I grin at them and do an exaggerated wink, just so they know I thought it was funny. I doubt they’d ever joke around with any of the other Bianco blood members except for me, and I like it that way.

As I stand around talking with Saul and Stefania, I spot Davide descending the steps from his house and start ambling over to the truck. I stare at him, almost speechless, and start to lose it with anger when he has the nerve to start unloading. I excuse myself and storm over toward him.

“Just what in the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I snap at my brother.

He pauses and his eyes narrow. “Helping.”

“You got shot, Davide. You also got arrested. You really think it’s smart to get involved with all this?” I gesture at the soldiers as they work very hard not to pay attention to their boss getting a lecture from his sister. “You have got to be the dumbest man in the world.”

“Elena,” he says, growling my name. “Watch what you say.”

I know what he means. I shouldn’t talk to him like that in front of the other guys, but screw his pride and screw the stupid Famiglia. I don’t want to see him rip open his stitches because he’s too much of a man to let healthy people do the work, and I definitely don’t want to see him get arrested if this little brazen drop-off goes wrong somehow.

“Believe it or not, I have your best interests in mind,” I tell him, and I’m about to say more but Stefania materializes at her husband’s side.

“She’s right.” Stefania gives him a hard look. “Put the box down and step away from the vehicle.”

Davide’s jaw flexes. He looks like he’s about to listen, but instead he hefts it up onto his shoulder. “I’m fine,” he says, brushing past me and stomping off to stack the crate with all the others.

Stefania rolls her eyes. “See what I deal with?”

I follow her gaze and anger rolls through me. Davide won’t listen to me, he won’t listen to Stefania, and I’m afraid he won’t listen to anything until it’s way too late. We’re in the middle of a war and the guy’s taking stupid, pointless risks, all for the sake of his silly pride.

I don’t need to get on him for this. He’s just carrying boxes. But I can’t help myself. I don’t want him to get arrested again, and I really don’t want him to hurt himself when that’s totally avoidable.

Except it’s not my battle to fight.

I walk away and leave Stefania to catch up with her brother and to give her husband shit for being such a stubborn ass. I spot Laura lurking on her porch and my little sister gives me a tight nod. I sit down on her stoop in the shade and pull my knees to my chest. She stays where she’s at, keeping her distance from everything, which is how she likes it.

“You can’t protect him from himself, you know,” she says, and I hate it when she’s all insightful and stuff.

“I can try.”

“You always do. How’s that going for you?”

I glare at her over my shoulder. “It’s wonderful.”

Her face barely registers any emotions as she shrugs. “Doubtful.” My little sister is beautiful with thick, wavy, dirty-blonde hair down to her shoulders, a small athletic body, and an angelic face, but she’s one of the strangest people I’ve ever known. It’s understandable, considering what she went through, but sometimes I wish she could display her empathy a little bit better.

Because it’s not like she can’t feel. It’s just that she’s terrible at showing it.

I watch the unloading happen like a swarm of ants until my phone buzzes. I’m tempted to ignore it, but Brody’s name shows up on my screen. “I was wondering when you’d need to hear my voice again.” I wander away from Laura’s house and back to mine.

“I talked to Omar Ali yesterday. He invited me to dinner.”

I can’t help but smile. “I know, Layla told me. Do you have any idea how painful that conversation was for me?”

“Yes, I do, and I’m also aware that it wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you.” He pauses and I’m curious if he’s about to thank me. “But I told him something stupid.”

Yep, that makes more sense. “What did you do?”

“I told him you and I would be married by the time we all get together to have dinner.”

My heart flutters. I pause in the shade of a tree and look over my shoulder. Nobody’s paying attention to me, and even if they were, nobody could notice the way my body’s reacting to the idea of being his wife. I mean, I know it’s going to happen, it’s just that I didn’t want to rush into it. I figured a few months of getting to know him then a nice little church ceremony. But this is fast, much faster than I expected.

“Layla wants to get together on Saturday,” I say softly.

“Then we’d better find a priest.”

“Did you discuss this with my brother?”

A pause. I can taste adrenaline as my heart races. “No. I’m talking to you first.”

I can’t explain how good that feels. He could’ve skipped straight to Simon, but he chose me.

“I can pencil you in this week,” I say as I reach my porch. Some of the soldiers are shouting and the trucks fire up again. They must be finished already. “How’s Thursday morning sound?”

“That works.”

“Wear something nice. And make sure you get me a ring.”

“Leave the panties at home, wifey.” He hangs up.

I smile to myself and stare at my phone screen. Then I sink into a chair outside of my front door and pull my knees to my chest, because in a few days I’m getting married to a man I barely know, a grumpy stranger that acts like I’m barely more than a useful stapler, and I’m not sure if I’m terrified or a little bit excited.