by Kathryn Shay
She sighed miserably. “My father’s the king so Max said he would be counted as law enforcement.”
“That’s right. Now, we should start the process. It’s lengthy, but maybe your friends in high places can help push this along.”
Still reeling with thoughts of her father’s behavior, Calla asked, “What does that mean? Because some of the Marinos are Secret Service agents?”
“Not only that,” Connor said. “My family has connections to the president. Important ones. I’ll explain that all later.”
“I have another question. Mamá smuggled me into your country. How will I stay here? My visa ran out when I turned thirty.”
“We’ll file the domestic violence claim and for the duration, you’ll be allowed to stay.”
Connor added, “And my family will get you temporary protection until this is resolved.”
They stood. Calla said, “Thank you, Anita. I’m so grateful for your time. For scheduling a meeting so quickly.”
“I’m coming out with you. I want to see Max. As I said, I’m grateful to him.”
o0o
“We’re here. Number 57.” Max checked the rearview mirror from the driver’s seat. Calla rode in the back with Connor. “It’s broad daylight and I’m pretty sure we weren’t followed.”
Gabriella’s house had a garage but there was a truck parked right in front of it. “That’s a hell of a thing,” Max commented as he pulled over to the curb.
“Street parking is full.” This from Connor. “Why don’t you stay with Calla, get her into the house and I’ll find a space down the road and walk back here.”
“I can go in alone.”
“No, honey, you can’t.” Max held her gaze in the mirror. “You really won’t be able to go anywhere alone. Even a short distance.”
Calla’s eyes widened at the extreme precaution. What was she thinking, though? She knew she wasn’t safe.
Connor and Max made the switch, and Max and Calla crossed the lawn and sidewalk to the front of Brie’s home. She noticed Max stayed a bit behind her. “Nice house,” he said when they reached it and went inside.
“All seven of us have trust funds from our mother’s side of the family. Mamá also saved money in accounts in the United States since we were born. This was done so we all could afford decent living as we pursued our dreams.”
“That will come in handy.”
She sighed.
Max said, “This will work out, Calla. We know what we’re doing.”
“Thank you, Max.”
o0o
Connor drove the sedan down the street, searching for a parking spot. He was preoccupied by all that he’d learned today, and concerned about Calla’s safety. And her state of mind. He knew how much her father meant to her. He tried not to give in to those thoughts, but he wasn’t able to divorce himself from her misery. He never could. In those last weeks before she left, they’d both been despondent.
Because he was thinking of her, he drove right past the first open space. He went farther down the road to turn around, then eased into the empty space under a tree, parked and got out.
Man, he was tired. He’d hardly slept last night and the constant worry was wearing on him. To get his blood pumping, he started a slow jog to Gabriella’s house. The tree-lined street accommodated several homes not too close together. He caught sight of a woman in her car with her small child, and Connor wondered idly if he’d ever have children. He couldn’t imagine marrying someone other than Calla. And that, now, was a moot point. He passed a man mowing his lawn who waved at him. Two little kids played in their front yard. It was all so ordinary, under very extraordinary conditions.
A figure jumped in front of him on the sidewalk.
He lunged for Connor.
Connor went down. His head hit the pavement. Pain ricocheted through his skull.
A fist connected with his face, twice, and just before the world went black, he heard from far away, “Hey, what the hell are you doing to that guy?”
o0o
When they walked into the foyer, Max pulled his gun and told her to wait by the door. She was shocked he drew the weapon. “Are you sure this is necessary?”
“Yes.” He left her standing there. She imagined him going back in the kitchen, then down to the three bedrooms in a separate wing. Finally, he came out. “It’s all clear. You can go pack your things. “Your stay with us is only temporary, so don’t take too much. We’ll discuss this more tonight when Whitney gets home.” His gun disappeared under his coat.
She gave him a smile. “This is such an imposition on you two.”
“Being with you and Con? Never.”
“You took a day off from work to help me.”
A shrug of his big shoulders. Max was tall, well-built and had patrician features. Whitney was smitten. Then again, so was he. Calla remembered when she and Connor felt that way. “I’ve got more comp time than God. We’re fine.” He shrugged. “Besides, I’d do anything for the Marino brothers.”
Connor had told her how close the family was, even sharing some stories about him and Whitney that he conjured when he was trying to stay sane. Calla wasn’t surprised, though. The Gentileschi sisters behaved the same way.
Inside the bedroom, she removed a suitcase from the closet and set it on the low dresser. For some reason, maybe her thoughts earlier on Connor’s family, she remembered packing for college in Italy. Her mother had come into her room and was helping her, getting out sweaters and a coat for cooler evenings. Calla studied her. “Are you sad that I’m leaving, Mamá?”
“Yes, of course, but this is the way of the world. Children leave their parents.”
“You stayed in Casarina.”
“I had my own path to follow. Yours is different.”
“I’ll be back.”
Renata frowned. She crossed to Calla and grasped her arms gently. “You must go where your heart leads you.”
Calla knew Renata had fought hard to give her girls some freedom even though she never had any.
“It will lead me back here, of course.”
“Maybe.” She’d pulled something out of her pocket. “I have a private phone, amore mio. Your father doesn’t know about it. You can call me directly if you need to.”
Calla had thought the secret phone was odd at first, but she knew her mother was fiercely independent despite her living arrangements. However, when she produced documents, Calla asked, “Is everything all right with you and Papá?”
“This is insurance. You have access to your trust funds and I also set up an account in the U.S. for you. And remember, my given name is legal for you, if you want anonymity. Each of your sisters has all of this too.”
“Mamá?”
But her mother kissed her on each cheek. “Do not tell your father about any of this...”
What had her mother known then, she wondered now as she packed? The woman had always had her children’s best interests at heart. Unlike Papá who...
A loud pounding that she could hear all the way back to the bedroom pulled her to the present. She zipped her case, picked it up, and walked down the hall to the living room.
And stopped short.
Max stood in the foyer, gun lifted. He glanced back at Calla and put his finger to his mouth indicating she should stay silent. The image of Lorenzo’s fists hitting her immobilized Calla.
Max checked the peephole. “Oh, my God.” Gun still in hand, he whipped opened the door.
A deep male voice that was vaguely familiar, said, “Holy fuck. I’m a friend of Brie’s. Don’t shoot.”
Max stepped to the left so she saw only the man’s face with Max’s gun aimed at it. “Calla, quick, is he Brie’s friend?”
“Y-yes.”
Max stepped aside to allow the man entry. With him was a slumped over Connor! She cried out, “No, no, ti prego no!” and ran to the foyer. While Max stayed at the window, Eddie eased Connor to the couch. Connor’s head lolled to the side.
Calla we
nt into doctor mode. She checked Connor’s pulse. Thready. His pupils were dilated. His face was bruised from punches, she guessed. But it was the skull laceration that concerned her.
Glancing over her shoulder at his savior, she said, “Eddie, please get me some warm water and towels.”
Once she cleaned the wound, she saw Connor would need stitches. His eyes opened, barely, then they closed again. “He’s going in and out of consciousness.”
She heard Max call 911 and ask for an ambulance. Then he came up next to Eddie. “What happened?”
“I was heading out to jog. As I turned a corner, I saw a guy jump out of the bushes, tackle this man, and punch him twice. Two other neighbors were working on their lawns and hurried to them. I raced over, and when the perpetrator saw all three of us, he high-tailed it out of there.”
“Jesus Christ.”
Sirens wailed outside. Calla held onto Connor’s hand. Max watched out the window, then she heard him at the door again. “I need identification.”
“Mister, this is an emergency.”
“I’m a Secret Service agent. ID now or I’m not letting you in.”
Another nightmare had just begun.
o0o
Nick and Gabe barged through the ER doors, looking worried. Whitney stood to greet them, sure her expression was the same.
“What the hell happened?” Nick asked.
Max crossed to Whitney and faced him squarely. “Connor was parking the car on the street where Calla’s staying and he got attacked.”
“Calla?” Gabe asked. “Who’s she?”
“Hell. I forgot you don’t know any of this.” Max was clearly upset.
“It’s a very long and complicated story.” Whitney told herself she had to keep herself calm. “Come sit with us.”
Nick griped, “I don’t want to sit. I want to know how my baby brother is.”
Gabe grabbed his arm. “You’re not helping, Nicky. Calm down.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Calla watching the scene play out. Then she came to stand before Nick. “I’m Calla Gentileschi.”
“And?” Nick asked.
Max gestured to a more private area of the waiting room. “Let’s go over there. This is sensitive information.”
At his authoritative tone, they all moved.
When they were seated at a round table, Whitney started to speak. “All right. Con—”
Calla lifted her chin, and part of her royal status peeked out. “Let me. Connor and I worked together for a year in Syria. I’m a doctor, too.”
She took in a breath and explained where her family was from. The circumstances of her fleeing to the United States. When she stumbled on that, Nick and Gabe’s expressions gentled. Protective hormones ran strong through the Marinos. Calla finished with how Connor had taken her to Max and Whitney.
Nick’s gaze snapped to Whitney. “Why didn’t you call us when you found out all this? I thought we agreed after what went down with you and Max, we wouldn’t keep secrets.”
“Connor brought Calla to my house only last night.” She explained the steps they’d taken. “I tried to reach you and Gabe this morning but you were at the tactical village training a group of cops on an exercise. Con got to the hospital an hour ago.”
“All right.” Nick raked his hand through his hair. “So Max was guarding Calla?”
Calla’s eyes welled with tears but she held them back. “Yes. We had no idea Connor could be a target. I’m so, so sorry.”
Letting out a heavy breath, Nick stood and crossed to the window. His shoulders were stiff and he was definitely angry.
Gabe took Calla’s hand. “This isn’t your fault. It’s the fault of whoever’s after you.”
“I shouldn’t have come to the U.S.”
“Of course you should have.” This from Max. “But I take responsibility for not thinking ahead that Connor could be in danger, too.”
Whitney grasped his arm. “You can’t foresee the future, Max.”
“No, honey, it’s our job to consider what might happen in any situation.”
Calla stiffened. “Max did what he was supposed to do after Eddie brought Connor to Brie’s.”
“Who are Eddie and Brie?” Gabe asked. Whitney could tell his head was spinning with all the different pieces of this puzzle.
“Brie’s my sister,” Calla told him. “Eddie’s her neighbor.” She explained how the man had appeared out of nowhere and he and the others out on the street helped Connor.
Thank God for that man. Whitney shivered with the thought of what might have happened otherwise.
Nick returned, hands in his pockets, his expression sheepish. “I’m sorry I flew off the handle, Calla. Ever since I hooked up with Isabelle, my wife, I’m not my former Ironman self.”
Whitney got up and hugged him. “I love you like this. Well, except for your stupid temper.”
To Calla, Nick said, “We’re agents too. Maybe we can help.”
o0o
As they waited for details on Connor’s condition, Calla took matters into her own hands. She contacted her mother on FaceTime. They both still had their private phones even though everything seemed to be out in the open. Renata Gentileschi appeared on screen. At fifty, her hair was still dark with only one dramatic streak of gray that ran from the left of her part line to the entire length of her hair. Her eyes were dark as midnight. “Cara mia.”
Calla felt sick in her stomach with missing her mother, though they talked often. Briefly, she wondered when everything had gotten so hard in life. “Hello, Mamá.”
“There’s worry on your face. What’s happened?”
“Connor was attacked. I’ll fill you in on what happened to this point, but right now I need to know if Papá sent someone after him? After me?”
“I can’t believe he would do either.”
A long silence. “I can’t be sure anymore, Mamá. Does he know where I am? Why I’m here?”
“You said I could tell him. Oh, have I done something wrong?”
“No, no.”
“Your father’s overwrought that Lorenzo’s abuse continued. He wanted to call you, but I wouldn’t give him your number.”
“He’s called Gabriella several times.” She frowned at what she was about to say. “I have to talk to him. I need facts.”
“I don’t know if you should. It might not be good for either of you.”
“Mamá, I must.”
“All right. But remember Lorenzo promised your father he would be good to you.”
“We know how empty men’s promises are.”
“Lorenzo, yes. Not your father.”
“He promised to protect me!”
She heard a loud pounding in the background. Then, “I hear you in there, Renata. I want to talk.”
“I’ll let him in if you’re sure you want to speak to him.”
“I have no choice.”
She heard her mother from a distance, “Brace yourself, Alessio. Calla is on the video phone. She wants to talk to you.”
“Grazie al cielo a Dio!”
Despite his gratefulness at her request, Calla stayed strong.
Soon, he appeared on the screen. Calla was sorry this was a video call. His face was lined, his eyes sad. But she wouldn’t take pity on him.
“Calla, mia figlia. Thank you for talking to me. Perhaps we can come to some kind of—”
“Did you send someone to America to hurt me?”
“Santo cielo, no!”
It was hard to ask, but she had to. “To hurt Connor?”
“Of course not.”
“So you know who he is?”
“Now, I do.”
A long silence. Should she believe him? Mamá would be furious if he lied again.
“I believe you. But be honest about the rest of what I ask you. Did Lorenzo send any of his henchmen?”
A hesitation. “I honestly don’t know.”
“Do you think he’s having me followed?”
“I d
on’t know any of this, cara.”
“If he is, Papá, you have to make him stop or you’ll never see me again.”
“Please don’t say that. Come home, I will protect you here.”
Calla had to shake her head. Did he realize what he said? “That’s what you said the first time he hit me.”
“I will have Lorenzo arrested.”
“On what grounds?”
“Do not worry about that.”
“I don’t trust you. I’m sorry if that hurts you, but I can’t. Please, though, if you love me at all, find out if Lorenzo is after me or Connor. Goodbye. Tell Mamá I will call soon.” She clicked off, sick again in her stomach. Though she sounded tough, she wanted nothing more than to have her father mean what he said.
“Calla?”
She turned to find Whitney behind her.
“Connor’s awake. He’s going to be fine. He wants to see you.”
o0o
A thousand jackhammers were competing for first place in Connor’s head. He took a deep breath to silence them, but that only made them worse. “Haven’t they given me anything for the pain?” he asked in a gravelly voice.
“Yeah,” Gabe said softly, reminding him of younger days when Gabe was the one to comfort him when he fell off his bike or skinned his knee. “You’re hurt pretty bad, Con.”
They’d already told him what happened.
He glanced to the door. “Where is she?”
“Whitney went to find her.”
He frowned. “Who was the guy who helped me?”
“A friend of Brie’s.”
“Is he here?”
“He was, but he went to pick Brie up.”
“When he comes back, I want to talk to him.”
The door eased open. For a minute, the figure was blurred. Then Calla came into focus, her face as desolate as the women’s in Syria. “Come here, cara mia.” He realized he used the endearment without thinking.
Nick and Gabe parted to make room for her. Crossing to the bed, she took his hand. Hers was cold. Or was he feverish? “I am so sorry, Connor.”
“This wasn’t your fault.”
“Of course it was. If I hadn’t come to the U.S. or to Washington, you wouldn’t be lying in a hospital in pain.”