His Brother's Wife Read online

  Inca moved, and then moaned in pain. Agony screeched through her body, but instead of upsetting her, it just made her angry. Who the hell were these people to decide whether she lives or died? Luna, Kevin, Knox, Edgar …two of them were dead; Kevin was, like Edgar, in jail. And now those two assholes in her beloved tea house …

  The anger made adrenaline shoot through her body, and she struggled to sit up, ignoring the agonizing pain in her abdomen and gripping the breathing tube to rip it out.

  Only the appearance of Bo stopped her from doing it. “Hey, hey, hey, hey …no, no, no, baby. Don’t do that.” Bo dropped the coffee she was holding and dashed to Inca’s side, holding her up with one strong arm and gently pushing her hands away from the tube. “Nurse! Somebody help me!”

  Two nurses and a doctor came racing in, and between them, they managed to calm Inca down. She gestured furiously at the breathing tube. The doctor injected her with a sedative. “Mrs. Winter, if you calm down, I can do some checks, and if you’re breathing on your own, I’ll consider removing the tube. But you have to calm down for me …your abdomen is recovering from serious wounds and the resultant surgery. If you tear an artery, you will bleed out and die. Okay?”

  Inca saw Bo wince. The other woman looked back at her and tried to smile. “Welcome back, gorgeous.” She kissed the back of Inca’s fingers, and Inca felt her tears on her skin. “Sweetie, while they look after you, I’m going to get Raff—he’s only getting some coffee. I’ll be right back.”

  Inca nodded, the effects of the sedative kicking in. The doctor and nurses did their tests, but a few moments later, Inca could only see him – her Raffaelo. The look of relief and love on his face was overwhelming, and she thought, as she had done once before, that his smile was better than any painkiller they might give her.

  Ama was nervous about walking into the hospital room and seeing her friend so hurt and brutalized. She had not been to see Inca when she was in a coma. Raff had wanted to limit Inca’s visitors because of the risk of infection, and Enda and he had agreed that it would be too hard on Ama.

  Ama was convinced Raff blamed her for his wife’s stabbing, even though both Enda and Tommaso assured her nothing could be further from the truth. “He’s just gone into over-protective mode. Although, at this point, I wouldn’t say anything is too overprotective as far as Inca goes.” Tommaso had been almost as devastated by Inca’s attempted murder as Raff, and Ama remembered that he, Tommaso, had loved Inca first. She had hugged him. “I love her too,” she whispered to him, and he nodded, fighting back the tears.

  She saw Raff first, and he came to her and wrapped his arms around her. “She’s just sleeping. The pain killers make her so tired.”

  Ama walked in and tried not to give a cry of horror. Inca had lost a lot of weight. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her lovely face, even in sleep, was creased in pain.

  Ama wobbled, and both Raff and Enda steadied her. Ama turned to Raff. “Is she going to be okay?”

  Raff drew in a deep breath. “We hope so. It’ll be a long road to recovery—even longer than last time. We’ll get there. Do you want to sit with her for a while? She should wake up soon.”

  Ama nodded. “How much does she know? I don’t want to upset her.”

  “Everything. She asked to be told everything. It …god …she’s stronger than even I realized.”

  Ama touched his face. “Raff, I’m so sorry about the baby.”

  He half-smiled, but it was a strained thing. “The strange thing is …we had made our peace with not having kids. This seems like a cruel joke. As if being stabbed nine times by two men twice her size wasn’t bad enough.” His voice broke and he looked away. Enda gripped his shoulder.

  “Come on, Raff. I’m buying you a strong coffee and something to eat. Cara mia, do you mind if we leave you two alone for a while?”

  Ama shook her head. “I’ll be here with Inca. Take as long as you need.”

  Inca woke less than ten minutes later, and Ama helped her sip from a cup of water. Inca smiled at her. “Hey, you. How are you? Is there any news?”

  Ama bugged at her. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking if you’re okay?”

  “Well,” Inca looked down at the heavy bandaging around her torso. “I’m going to say I’m all set.” She grinned, but then her smile faded. “And don’t even think you’re responsible for this. Raff told me that’s what you told Enda and it’s a bunch of crap. This is all Jackson Gallo. Asshole.”

  ‘Asshole’ was such an understatement when it came to describing Jackson that suddenly Ama got the giggles. Inca looked at her in surprise, then started to laugh too. “Oww, oww, don’t make me laugh. My stomach muscles are compromised. Oww!” But she dissolved into giggles too.

  “I don’t know why I’m laughing,” Ama said, wiping her eyes, “You’re in here, my sister’s still missing, and Jackson …”

  “Is still breathing,” Inca said, her smile fading. “Girl, if you can wait until I’m mobile, I say you and me go Black Ops on his ass.”

  “From your lips to God’s ear, Inks. But seriously now, I am so sorry you got dragged into this. I can’t imagine what it was like.”

  Inca winced a little as she shifted in the bed. “Personal. That’s the word I keep coming back to. The man who stabbed me …it was personal for him. He enjoyed it. He got off on sticking that knife in my belly. Jackson’s surrounded himself with men like him. Psychotic, sociopathic, and devoid of empathy. They like to kill, and they like to kill women.”

  Ama dropped her head in her hands and moaned. “Inks…I can’t sit around waiting for Jackson to kill Selima. I know the men are doing everything their money will allow. It’s not enough.”

  Inca was studying her. “Now I know you’re not thinking about going to Jackson?”

  Ama met her gaze. “If it was a choice between you and Raffaelo …what would you do?”

  “Jesus, Ama …you can’t ask me that. Goddamn it.” Inca’s voice broke. “I wish you hadn’t told me. Please, darling, I’m begging you. Don’t give in to him.”

  Ama shook her head. “No, you misunderstand me. I have no intention of giving into him. I’m going to kill him.”

  Ama was quiet on the way back to the villa that night, and when they got home, Enda sent the staff home and they went to their bedroom. Enda sat on the bed. “What’s going on in that mind?” he asked gently.

  Ama sat next to him, brushing her fingers through his hair. “Enda …I think we need to go back to San Francisco.”

  Enda looked at her, and she could see the conflict in her mind. Finally, he sighed. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. We’re not getting anywhere here. It’s just …the thought of you being in his sightline.”

  “We don’t know he’s there, but I guarantee he’ll be watching. We go back. I go back to work as if nothing’s changed. We—you and I—will be visible in society. We goad him into contacting me again. We make a deal. Me for Seli—“

  “No way. That’s not’s going to happen, cara mia,” Enda got up and paced the room. “I agree we should be there, but if you think we’re going to use you as bait.”

  Ama sighed. “I think it’s too late to consider anything else, baby. I am his bait. I’m what he wants. We’ve established he could be anywhere in the world, which means I’m already in his sights. He knows we’re here. That’s why he sent men to kill Inca. He wanted me to know he is always close.”

  Enda looked unhappy and was silent for a long time, looking out of the window. Finally, he returned to her side. “Fine. But the level of personal security you’re getting will be insane, okay? Please. I know you hate the intrusion, but this is your life we’re talking about. Until Jackson is …put out of action …you’ll have to promise me.”

  Ama nodded slowly and met his gaze. “I promise, Enda. I do. But we’re getting Selima back alive.”

  He pressed his lips to hers and she kissed him back, almost urgently. “Take me to bed, Enda, and fuck me hard.”

  She
felt his lips curl up in a smile. “That’s my girl.”

  He pushed her back on the bed and began to unbutton her dress, taking the time to kiss every inch of skin he uncovered. Ama sighed, giving into the sensations he was sending through her. When his mouth found her sex, she shivered, and as his tongue lashed around her clit, she stroked his hair. “Baby, I want to taste you too.”

  Enda grinned at her, then stepped back, stripped off, and climbed onto the bed so she could take him into her mouth while his tongue returned to tease her clit. His cock filled her mouth, the silky skin of the shaft soft against her exploring tongue, the underlying muscle growing more rigid. She moaned as Enda spread her legs wider and plunged his tongue deep into her cunt. His cock grew hard in her mouth as she teased the sensitive tip with her tongue, and she tasted the salty pre-cum. As they drove each other on, Enda came in her mouth, and she swallowed him down greedily. Almost frenzied in their lust, Enda moved to kiss her mouth, pushing her knees to her chest, and she clawed at his back as he slammed his cock into her, biting down on her shoulders and breasts. She screamed his name as he made her cum over and over, tangling her fingers in his dark curls and pulling hard. It was the most feral, uninhibited fuck they had ever had, and Ama felt strength and ferocity running hot through her veins.

  As Enda Gallo, her love and her life, fucked her long and hard into the night, Amalia smiled to herself. Fuck you, Jackson. You’ll never take this away from me.

  You’re going down, asshole.

  San Francisco, a week later …

  It was almost as if Ama expected Jackson to be waiting at the airport, Selima in one hand and a gun in the other. The nightmares plagued her. Selima crying, bruised, begging Ama not to do it. Jackson’s triumphant grin as he let Selima run to Enda, then shoved the muzzle of the gun against Ama’s belly and pulled the trigger.

  She shivered. She knew it was ridiculous, but when they landed the private jet at the airport and stepped out into the California sunshine, she scanned the area looking for him. Instead, a dark-windowed town car pulled up, and Olivier—lovely, sweet Olivier got out. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to go down the steps. Olivier swept her up in a bear hug. “God, it’s good to see you, little one.”

  Ama clung onto him. He looked tired and drawn. “I’m sorry we left you alone for so long with this, Olly.”

  He held her tightly. “As long as you’re safe, that’s all I care about …and I bring positive news. Chase is out of his coma and talking. We think Selima is still in the state, but being hidden in an underground facility. After he was shot, Chase said he remained conscious long enough to hear Jackson say to take Selima to the ‘facility’ and that he “will join them in an hour.” The F.B.I. have gone over Jackson’s records with a fine-tooth comb. They have a few leads.”

  Ama’s heart was in her throat. “God, really?”

  Olivier grinned at her and his brother. “Really. Now let’s get you home.”

  Jackson Gallo was informed that Ama and Enda were back in San Francisco less than half an hour later. He smiled smugly – Ama knew she was in a no-win position and Jackson banked on her doing everything to get her sister back alive.

  He moved quickly through the corridors of the underground facility he had purchased after he had become engaged to Ama. He had it fitted out with comfortable rooms, hot water, heating, kitchens, and bathrooms; he knew that Amalia Rai did not want to marry him and he did not want to have to resort to the lengths he had with Penelope. After all, the goal was to sleep with Ama, not kill her—not at first—so if she had defied him, then he would have brought her here and kept her confined until he decided her punishment.

  Now it had proved useful for her sister. Selima Rai wasn’t as spirited as her sister, but she still tried to attack him every time he went near her. Now she was handcuffed to the bed, and when Jackson went to taunt her, he made sure to stay out of her reach.

  He opened the door to her room. Selima glared at him, but didn’t get up. Her hair hung in strands around her face. Jackson sighed. “For god’s sake, clean yourself up. You look terrible.”

  “Fuck you, Jackson, I don’t have to look pretty for anyone, let alone the man who kidnapped me and killed my boyfriend.”

  Jackson shrugged. “He got in the way. If you and your sister didn’t act like whores, none of this would be happening.”

  Selima spat at him. “You’re pathetic.”

  Jackson wiped his face. “And, yet, I seem to be holding all of the cards.”

  “She won’t come back to you. I won’t permit it. Enda, Olivier …they won’t permit it. So, you might as well kill me now and cut your losses.”

  Jackson rolled his eyes. “You know, you could be grateful. There’s a cell in this building. A great, hard, cold concrete cell that you could be in. It’s only through my good graces that you’re keep fed, warmed, and in this luxury.” He gestured around the comfortable room with its four-poster bed and big-screen T.V. “Shut your mouth, enjoy what you’ve got here, and pray I don’t kill you the second Ama comes back to me.”

  Selima went quiet then, and Jackson turned to go. Before he reached the door, she spoke up, her voice breaking.

  “Are you going to kill Ama?”

  He didn’t answer her.

  Chase Caplan felt like a hole had been punched through his chest. Which, come to think of it, it had, he thought and grinned to himself. It took a lot to make Chase feel down, but being shot had come pretty close. After waking up from his coma, his first question had been “Is Selima okay?”

  When he was told, she was still missing, he hadn’t hesitated in asking to talk to the police, and to Olivier. The doctors had wanted him to take it easy. He ignored them.

  Today, he would meet Selima’s sister for the first time. He wondered how he would feel, seeing someone who resembled his lover so much. In the few weeks, he and Selima had been together, he had fallen hard for the tiny Indian-American woman. Every moment they were together was the most fun he’d ever had, and even though he was a salt-of-the-earth, straight-A, country boy, he found himself acting more spontaneously …recklessly? Had they been reckless the night Selima had been taken?

  There had been a roof party at one of their friend’s apartments, and they had stayed late, Selima sitting on his lap as they shared a beach chair. The night had been sultry, lines of twinkle lights strung around the rooftop and soft music playing. Selima had snuggled into his big chest, and he had kissed the top of her head.

  “Hey, beauty.”

  “Hey, you.” She’d looked up at him as he kissed her mouth gently. Selima had sighed happily. “God, what a great night.”

  “Not over yet.” He’d grinned at her meaningfully, and she’d laughed.

  “You know,” she’d lowered her voice. “My place is only about four blocks from here …but there are a lot of dark alleyways we could take shortcuts through.”

  He had gotten her meaning and chuckled. “Why, Ms. Rai, you’re tryin’ to ruin my reputation, huh?”

  They had made their way home, ducking into alleyways to make out, and when they had reached the one nearest Selima’s apartment, she’d grinned up at him, leaning back against the wall and hitching up her skirt. “Come here, farm boy, and fuck me good.”

  Chase had laughed, but gathered her to him, pressing her back against the wall and sliding her panties down her legs. Selima’s hands had been at his fly, freeing his engorged cock from his underwear. He’d thrust into her, and she’d given a half-shocked laugh at the force of him. They’d fucked silently against the wall, only pausing mid-way as an elderly man walked past the end of the alleyway, stopping to let his dog pee on a dumpster. Selima had started giggling, and Chase had to put his hand over her mouth to silence her.

  Stumbling home afterward, neither of them had seen the men waiting for them. When one had stepped out of the shadows and grabbed Selima, Chase was on him immediately. Then the other guy had begun to pull him away, Selima screaming at them.

  “Don’t hurt the
girl.” He’d heard a clipped American accent, glanced around, and recognized Jackson Gall immediately. Jackson had smirked, holding Selima back as the men had whaled on Chase, and when one had knocked him to the ground, the other had pulled out a gun, and Chase had felt his chest explode. Selima had screamed as Chase realized he’d been shot and that he could no longer move his body. His head had whirled as he saw Selima pushed into a car. “Take her to the facility,” Jackson Gallo had instructed his men, “I’ll follow you in an hour.”

  Chase had wanted to shout, to scream, to tell Selima he would save her, but he hadn’t been able to speak or move. His entire body had been cold—too cold. Gallo had leaned over him and smiled. “I really don’t care if you live or die, my friend, but if you live, tell Amalia this …her sister will suffer the same fate as Penelope and Inca unless she comes back to me. Tell her to wait for my call.”

  Chase closed his eyes, and for once, let the despair take over him. Selima, I will do everything I can to find you. But he felt helpless.

  An hour later, he felt the despair even more keenly when Selima’s sister walked into the room, took one look at him, and put her arms around him. Then, for only the third time in his twenty-six years on the planet, Chase Caplan cried.

  Inca finished another book, then put it on the pile next to her bed. Her recovery was going well, but slowly—and she was bored. Raff, Tommaso, and Bo kept her company as much as they could, but Raffaelo was looking for the men who had tried to kill his beloved wife, as well as helping out Enda and Ama, and Bo and Tommaso had seven kids to try to juggle. Stella and a couple of other girls from the tea house had been in to see her, as well as some of her friends from Naples, but they treated her as if she were a fragile thing and Inca had had enough of it. She was pissed, almightily pissed, at being back in this situation.