Schwartz
“Mate, hey!’ The Boss looked around, his hand still holding his wife’s small wrist imprisoned in his large one.
“We have guests, Lucien,’ said his wife gently and the Boss’s cold, pale eyes swept the length of the room to land on Maja. He raised a brow and grunted.
His wife went on, smiling reassuringly as she looked at Maja’s strained white face that contrasted vividly with her blazing red hair and blue eyes.
“That’s Maja, she’s going to be a teacher at Hollowford High and her children. Magnus and Madeline.’
The big man’s narrow gaze flickered across them but they rested longer than necessary on Magnus, who coloured slowly under the critical scrutiny. His eyes stabbed at Schwartz, and a message seemed to pass between the two men.
Maja felt her palms break out in a sweat and she turned to look at Magnus. What had they noticed about her son that she, as a mother, had not seen?
Schwartz was staring keenly at Magnus now and the boy had the look of a hunted animal.
Maja did not know what would have happened if the moment had been prolonged; luckily for all of them, the twins entered just then, talking animatedly. They stopped when they saw that their father had arrived. While Piers bobbed his head deferentially and murmured,
“Sir’. Then he smiled fondly at his mother before settling in the seat beside his father, Ria walked over to her father whose face altered, softening.
“Pappa,’ she said softly, bent to kiss her father’s cheek.
Maja stared, although she knew it was bad manners.
She bowed her head slowly. Whatever she had heard about the Don, his cruelty, his tough handling of situations, was all true, probably. But here, at home, she saw a father who was loved and respected, a man who was crazily in love with his wife and a friend …
El Capo
Philippe and his men were out of the car and racing towards the bar when the first gunshot was heard. Drawing their weapons, they stormed in. Claude, bleeding and clutching his arm, was swaying, grey-faced, as Hank and Castle, also with blood on their clothes, stood, and stared at the man at their feet, who was twitching in his death throes. The bar was more or less deserted, for everyone seemed to have fled.
‘F*ck, man.’ shouted Philippe, who had reached Claude and turned him about to check him for any serious injuries,’ You ok, Claude?’ he snarled, worry on his face.
Claude was like his blood brother; he had grown up with the children at the St Claire mansion and Philippe always felt protective towards him.
“The f*ck has Paddy got himself into?’ said Claude as he swayed, the wound on his arm bleeding freely now. His face was ashen and he looked at Philippe as he said hoarsely,
‘Those are f*cking serious mother f*ckers.”
Philippe supported him with an arm and then turned to leave, jerking his head to his men. As they made it to the door, he spotted the woman hiding behind the bar.
He looked at his men and growled.
“Blondie over there, hiding behind the bar might have seen something. Bring her.’
There was a stifled scream as one of his men grabbed the reluctant woman and hauled her to a van behind Philippe’s car. Claude was all but unconscious and Philippe realized, with more than a little dread, that his friend was more seriously wounded than he had thought.
“The clinic on Little Ducking Road, and step on it,” he growled as he held Claude.
Slapping his face, he commanded in a low voice, full of emotion,
“No, you do not get to sleep, bro.’ The cars roared off and Philippe looked at Claude whose head was lolling now.
*
Lucien Delano
His wife had outdone herself again, he thought as he attacked the food ravenously.
Disobeying his strict orders that she should rest during the afternoon and not spend time, labouring in the kitchen to prepare a host of dishes, she had gone ahead and made a lavish spread. His eyes locked upon her as she daintily reached for the apple pie.
“The f*ck are you not eating, woman?’ he snarled, reaching out to grip her small wrist. Her bones were so fine, he thought as he gently stroked her palm.
Proserpina coloured at the intensity of his gaze.
“I… I feel like having something sweet, Lucien,’ she said gently, and his eyes dropped to her mouth.
‘I’ll give you sweet, woman… and some salty too…’ he said in a voice low enough for just his woman to hear his words.
She coloured prettily and he felt his c*ck stiffen automatically.
All he wanted was to f*ck her, right here, right now, he thought hungrily.
“Pappa…’ said Piers and the spell was broken.
He narrowed his eyes, silently warning his son not to bring up the subject of Paddy but Piers gave an imperceptible shake of his head and continued, asking him about an incident that had taken place in Estonia.
The men began to speak, Schwartz joining in and Proserpina ate slowly, listening with half an ear. Where was Paddy, she thought distractedly, tucking her hair behind her ear and feeling the gaze of Maja upon her, she looked up and smiled.
*
Maja remained aware of the people around her throughout the meal although the food was unlike anything she had eaten. It was delicious, no, it was heavenly, she thought. Her children ate in a way that would have made her ashamed on any other occasion, but she felt comfortable enough to know that April was not the kind of person to judge her.
And her eyes kept straying to Handsome James as she had heard Camille call him; the flopping blonde hair that fell over his forehead, twinkling green eyes…
***
Lucien
They were in the middle of the meal when the phone at his elbow pinged. April’s jambalaya was as always, out of this world and he was already in the middle of a generous second helping when the phone rang.
The Mafia Don frowned.
The explicit rule was that no one disturbed him when he was at home, or at dinner.
The muted conversation around the table ceased. Proserpina, sitting beside him, looked at him, eyes wide in anxiety. His older children were also watching him attentively as was Schwartz.
Scowling darkly, he glanced at the phone, his firm lips tightening in annoyance when he saw who the caller was.
The Capo?
He took up the phone, wiping his lips with the napkin as he growled, displeasure radiating in his voice as he said.
‘Delano.’