In the Shadows (Barresi Book 2)

by Lux Miller

  I gasp when I see Luca’s phone sitting in the dim green glow coming from the alarm clock. He never travels without both his work phone and his personal phone. I know he took his work phone, because I watched him drop it into his trousers, but the fact that he didn’t take his personal phone means one of two things - he didn’t expect to be gone long, or he doesn’t want to be trackable.

  In the deepest recesses of my mind, I’m praying for the former although I know the reason is more likely the latter. And if Luca didn’t want to be tracked, that means whatever he’s out there doing is dangerous. Considering the man carries a pair of guns and dodges the police for a living, this level of dangerous is enough to grip my heart with fear.

  Standing up, I shiver as goosebumps prickle my skin. I walk over to Luca’s dresser and pull out an old concert t-shirt that brushes the top of my thighs once it’s on. I slam that drawer shut and pull out the one just above it. Digging around through his ridiculously expensive boxer briefs, my hands finally find what they were searching for - one of the half dozen pairs of sensible panties I keep stashed in his underwear drawer. I never know when I may need a pair since the man’s sexual appetite is insatiable.

  I pull on a hot pink pair of boy shorts that provide decent cover of my girly bits. Paired with the t-shirt, it’s as close to pajamas as I’ve worn since I entered Luca Barresi’s home and service almost four months ago. I sigh and walk over to the decidedly masculine bed and flop on top of the covers. The plush comforter billows and settles around me uneventfully as I glance at the glaring green display once again of the alarm clock - 4:59.

  Crawling up the bed, I snatch Luca’s phone off the bedside table. It’s locked anyway, so it’s not like I can go snooping about in his personal affairs. He may have made an honest woman of me and made me his proper girlfriend, but the man has trust issues the size of Texas. No way would he ever let me dig through his phone.

  Out of curiosity, I swipe my finger up the screen and cringe as the screen flashes and asks for a pin code. Shrugging, I toss the phone onto the comforter besides me but something draws me back to it. There’s a message notification blinking in the upper right-hand corner of the phone, but without his passcode, there’s no way I can access it to find out what’s going on.

  I roll my eyes and type in 0000 just to see if he’s as predictable as ninety percent of the men I know. To my surprise, the screen flashes ‘Passcode Error. 4 More Attempts Until Phone is Locked.’ If it’s not the default code, it’s probably his birthday. I chuckle at how predictable most men are, until I realize that I don’t even know Luca’s birthday.

  I know it isn’t too soon because of a couple of off-the-cuff remarks made by Royce and Dante, but I have no clue what day. I do know he’ll be thirty at least, so I’m not completely failing at being his girlfriend. After all, when your man is a secretive criminal that hobnobs with the upper crust socialites of New Orleans, it’s reasonable to assume he’d keep personal details to a minimum.

  I try a couple more default codes just in case and roll my eyes when none of them work. Once the phone flashes that it will lock on the next attempt, I toss it back onto the bedside table. It’s now after five AM and I still haven’t heard from Luca. I know I’m just being clingy, and I should give the worrywart persona a rest, but something is gnawing at my insides.

  It’s just like back at the club when a plainclothes copper would hide amongst the patrons. As a people watcher, they’d usually set me on edge because something in their demeanor would give them away. The other girls would often solicit the officer and earn themselves a night in jail. A couple of the underage ones managed to get themselves tossed in Foster homes. Because they’d refuse to talk, as was a common practice among Andre’s girls, nobody ever managed to trace them back to him.

  But I was smart enough not to get caught. With the exception of the one time I picked the pocket of an FBI detective, but he’d let me go when I’d busted out the waterworks and made up some lame story about how I tripped and was trying to get my footing instead of trying to lift the leather wallet he’d had concealed inside his coat. I’d only been on the streets for a few weeks then, but it taught me a valuable lesson I carried with me to the day Luca abducted me - travel light and move fast. And don’t EVER hesitate.

  Right now, I’m hesitating, but I know that if I lock Luca’s phone, he’ll instantly realize I’ve been snooping. As secretive as he is and as short as his temper has been with other people, I don’t want to do anything to potentially anger him. I don’t ever want to find myself on the receiving end of his anger.

  That very notion makes me jumpy as I hear a loud bang downstairs. Squeaking, my hands fly out as a commotion downstairs follows the sharp crack of the front door being flung open. Luca’s phone goes flying, landing with a soft thud halfway across the room. I scramble off the bed to grab it and put it back on the bedside table, but the frenzy happening downstairs piques my interest.

  I creep over to the bedroom door and peer out into the hallway. It’s pitch black up here, except for the subtle sliver of light coming from under Dante’s door and the glow on the wall of the staircase from downstairs. Several shadows bounce along the wall that leads downstairs and it concerns me because at this hour, the hired help is minimal and everyone else should be asleep.

  Stepping one foot over the threshold and into the hallway, I immediately freeze when startled shouts waft upstairs. I can’t hear much of the conversation being exchanged, but I can hear several distinct male voices, none of which I recognize to be Luca’s. I start to worry that somebody has broken into the house until I hear Mike’s voice, loud and clear above the rest, “Get him upstairs! Now!”

  I jump back into the room and dive into the bed, pulling the covers up over my head as the panicked voices get louder. “Sir, I think he needs a doctor.”

  Mike quickly responds, “You know the rules, kid. No doctors unless someone’s on death’s doorstep.”

  The same voice as before, meeker now, replies, “He will be if he doesn’t get himself looked at. That’s not some paltry slice and dice… somebody got a good piece of him.”

  I whimper softly under the covers as the voices get louder. After what seems an eternity, I finally hear Luca’s voice. It’s quiet, but firm as he directs his men. “Leave me. It’s just a scratch. I’ll be fine after some rest.”

  Several voices grumble as the bed dips from someone’s weight. I am really hoping it’s Luca as I lay here, flattened out under the covers, trying not to look like a bump that would give the hint of my presence. Just because I’m dating Luca doesn’t mean we’re to the point of sharing a bed at night. No need for the men to know any more than they do.

  The voices fade until just one other voice remains in the room. I recognize its timbre immediately as Mike. “Emily, you can come out of hiding now. Keep an eye on him. I don’t like this one bit, but he’s being a stubborn ass mule.”

  I flick the covers back off my head and pull myself to a sitting position, eyeing Mike warily. “You mean he’s being himself?” I grin and glance at Luca. The sight that meets me makes my heart skip a beat. There’s grime on his face and in the ambient lighting from the hallway, it looks like there’s an enormous bruise darkening over one eye.

  Mike gives me a curt nod and steps out into the hallway, pulling the door almost-closed.

  I gasp as Luca’s wary gaze meets mine. He winces as he adjusts himself on the bed and offers me a paltry smile. “Sorry it took so long. There were a couple… complications.”

  I nod slowly as I watch him. He’s breathing funny, his breaths staccatoed like he’s in pain. I reach out to touch his face and his tenses as my fingertips brush his jaw. “Luca… what happened?”

  He shrugs, turning his face so that my hand drops off his jaw. I rest it gently against his chest instead and tug gently on his shirt. “Do you… need help getting comfortable?”

  Luca shakes his head quickly, swatting my hand away with his right hand as his left slips underne
ath his shirt and out of view. I swallow down the lump in my throat. “What kind of complications?”

  Luca closes his eyes for a moment as he inhales a deep, unsteady breath. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. Things just got a little messy is all. I called the Cleaner. There will be no evidence of a struggle come morning. Now, can we just lay down and go to sleep and pretend like nothing happened?”

  I narrow my gaze at him, then flick my eyes to the green box Royce left us. He ran out of here in the middle of a blowjob… he’s been itching to know what’s in that box all night. Now he suddenly doesn’t care and he just wants to go to sleep? Alarm bells start blaring in my head. Something is wrong.

  “Luca… look at me…”

  He obliges as he settles down into the bed on his back. But I can tell that just that small movement hurt him. Physically hurt him. Whatever happened on his job obviously didn’t go as planned. He grey eyes look haunted as he stares back at me… no, he’s staring through me. Something is very wrong.

  I lean over him and kiss his lips lightly to distract him as I lift his shirt up. I sit back on my heels and suck in a sharp breath as I realize that his hand, shirt, the bed and now my hand are covered with a thick, viscous substance. It’s impossible to tell what color it is in the darkness, but there’s no doubt in my mind. It’s blood. Luca’s hurt… and he’s hurt badly.

  He hisses as I push his hand away. Both of my hands fly to my face, despite the fact that both are now smeared with blood. There’s an angry, jagged cut that zigzags across his abdomen, starting underneath his armpit right below where his rib cage ends. It slices across his skin, ending just above his belly button.

  Dread bubbles up in my throat as his eyes meet mine. I drop my hands from my mouth just slightly and scream at the top of my lungs. Luca groans as he reaches up to grab my hands, “Emily, shhh… it’s okay, it’s just… a surface scratch…”

  I know that my eyes are wild with fear as I stare at him in disbelief. He winces and groans as he abandons the idea of sitting up. I unbutton his shirt and nudge it down off his shoulders. Balling it up, I press it against the wound with trembling hands as the overhead light flickers on.

  Standing in the doorway are Mike and Dante. Dante looks irritated and half-asleep, and Mike looks worried. The expression on his face speaks volumes of his opinion of the matter. Dante’s tired voice cuts through the silence that follows my scream. “What the fu—?”

  I glance over my shoulder at both of them and let a wad of garbled words fly out of my mouth. I must look a fright because Dante is now wide-awake. “Emily… you’re… oh my God, what happened?”

  I nod at Luca with my head, “It’s his. It’s all his… he’s hurt…” I pull Luca’s shirt away from the wound and throw it to the floor, where it lands beside his discarded cell phone. The formerly white shirt is now tie-dyed crimson. I swipe the back of my hand across my face and my stomach flip-flops with the realization that Luca’s blood is all over me.

  Dante reaches my side in record time. He pushes my hands away from the cut in Luca’s side and his eyes narrow at his brother. “Luca… this isn’t an owwie that mommy can bandage up and fix with a kiss. What the fuck happened?”

  Luca groans as Dante inspects the cut. Dante glances over his shoulder at Mike and starts to bark orders. “Get something to sterilize it with. If he’s not going to the doctor, then we’re going to have to do this the hard way. We can’t leave it like it is. Find me a needle and thread… some gauze… and something for him to bite down on.”

  I nod and start to scramble out of the bed to help Mike find the supplies, but Dante’s strong hand grips my wrist, forcing me to stay in place. “You stay here. Keep him calm. Can you sew?”

  I blink at Dante in surprise. “I, uh… I can hem a pair of pants, kinda… why?”

  Dante stands up and motions to Luca, who is now writhing in pain on the bed. I follow to where his finger is pointing and my eyes widen. Shaking my head quickly, I try to protest, but the only thing that comes out of my mouth is nonsense.

  Moments later, Mike returns with an armful of supplies and dumps them onto the bed. A bottle of peroxide, a bottle of vodka, several packages of gauze, and a small sewing kit tumble onto the bed beside me. I cast my eyes up to Mike and he must see the fear on my face.

  He rubs a hand down my back and coos softly, “He needs us to stay calm. He’s likely in or close to being in shock. It’s bad, but it doesn’t look too deep. You said you wanted this… that you wanted him, despite his lifestyle. This is the reality of his lifestyle.”

  I nod and close my eyes, trying to steady my breath. “Give me his phone.” Mike nods and grabs the phone off the floor, dropping it into my hands. I thrust it at Luca. “Unlock it.”

  He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off, “Unlock the motherfucking phone or I will call 911 on it, do you understand me?”

  Luca grunts and his fingers fly over the screen. Then he hands it back to me with a grunt. Relieved to see the home screen, I dive into his contacts and call Royce as fast as my fingers can select him from the list. It rings several times, and I’ve got the bottle of Vodka open before he answers.

  His voice is sleepy on the other end, “Luca… man, if you have a fashion emergency at five in the morning, I better be getting paid double…”

  I cut him off before he can get another word in, “It’s not Luca. It’s Emily. I need your help. I’ll pay your price, just name it. I need you to help guide me through repairing a massive cut.”

  Royce’s voice brightens as he responds, “Oh honey, did that beast rip your dress? Why didn’t you just say so… I assume you have a needle and thread available?”

  I nod as I fling open the sewing kit and pull out what I hope will work in a pinch. “Yeah, something like that.” I motion to a balled up pair of socks on the floor and then motion to Luca. Luca’s eyes widen and he shakes his head no, but I nod back at him.

  Mike hands me the socks and I tip the bottle of vodka into Luca’s mouth. He sputters at first, then gulps down several large sips before I snatch it away, cap it up and toss it on the floor. Next, I grab the bottle of peroxide, shove the balled up socks into Luca’s mouth and upturn the bottle over his cut. It fizzes like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth and Luca balls both of his fists up at his sides. I can’t hear what he’s attempting to say thanks to the socks, but if I was a betting woman, it isn’t nice.

  “Oka, honey. Once you have the needle threaded, you want to tie off the end of the thread so it doesn’t slip through the fabric. Then I’m gonna need you to push the torn ends together and puncture through where the fabric is thickest. That way it holds better.”

  I take a deep breath and my eyes meet Luca’s as I climb onto his legs, my knees pressed into the sides of his thighs. For the first time ever, he looks rattled and dare I say it…scared. I bite down on my bottom lip and, with Mike’s help, pinch the ragged edges of the cut together above his navel. My hands are shaking as I punch the needle through his skin.

  He bucks underneath me, a muffled scream dying in the socks.

  Royce’s voice is steady as he directs me on the other end, “Now do it quickly. The less time you spend weaving that needle in and out of the dress, the better it’ll look when you’re done.”

  I nod, realizing that Royce would have a level three meltdown if he knew what he was really directing me to do. I weave the needle back and forth through the edges of the cut, creating a crisscross stitch style that looks like it belongs on a pair of bell-bottomed pants and not a human body. I cringe as I finish and tie off the thread as Royce instructs me to do. I thank him and hang up, dropping the phone onto the bed beside me.

  I wipe the back of my hand across my forehead and instantly I feel exhausted. I can’t imagine what Luca must feel like right now. That had to have hurt like hell. Yet aside from his attempts to buck me off and his muffled shouts against the socks stuffed into his mouth, he took it fairly well. Which leads me to believe this isn’t the first tim
e he’s refused medical care and been forced to act like we’re somewhere on the frontier. And I don’t know what terrifies me more… how bad this was or that nobody seemed to be too ruffled by it. A little panicked, yeah… but now that the crisis seems to be avoided, everyone is going on like it’s no big deal.

  Mike sighs at the mess everywhere and throws his hands up in the air, “It isn’t worth getting upset over the mess tonight. You two get some sleep. He’s going to be in some pain tomorrow…”

  Luca groans as he shifts in the bed beside me. He cracks one eye open at Mike and grunts. Mike shrugs and points out, “I know you have your secrets Lucario, but it’s not wise to keep a second attack on one of his sons from your father. Somebody has declared war and your father will not be pleased to be the last to know.”

  Luca waves Mike off. Mike chuckles and holds both hands up in the air. “Stubborn as ever, I see. Perhaps the pain you feel when you wake up will have you singing a different tune. You’re like a son to me, boy… and no man should have to see someone he cares for in the state you were in when you stumbled into this house.”