Honda for her purse. Get this information to Rosina immediately. As her fiancé I will be expected to know everything about her.”
Taviano was already up, on his phone and hurrying to the Honda where he recovered Grace’s purse. Vittorio kept his eyes locked with Grace’s. Shudders went through her body. Tears tracked down her face. Several times she started to move, but the moment he murmured softly to her, she fought back the urge.
“That’s my girl. Stay with me. You’re doing great. They’re here.”
She looked desperate. He felt that way. He wasn’t about to be separated from her. “No matter what, I’ll be with you,” he promised. He glanced at his brother. Stefano made things happen, even impossible things.
His oldest brother was on the phone to Giuseppi Saldi and the conversation wasn’t pleasant. Stefano was pissed as all hell and the cold, clipped way he was talking to Giuseppi let the man know there were going to be repercussions.
“Two of your men are here in my parking lot. My brother’s fiancée has been shot with one of their guns and the cops are crawling all over my club. What the fuck, Giuseppi? You making a move on my family?”
There was silence. Vittorio continued to murmur to Grace as the ambulance screamed into the parking lot.
“Some asshole threw her into the trunk of his car, her foster brother or something, and these two clowns were going to take her as payment for his gambling debts. Since when has that been going on? Just letting you know, they’re both going to the hospital and then to jail, and if I see them on the fucking street, they’re dead. You get me, Giuseppi? You come at my family, we’re coming back at you and yours. And we’ll come back hard.”
Stefano ended the call and strode back to Grace and Vittorio. The EMTs were already running IV lines to Grace. Stefano was back on the phone, calling their surgeon, demanding he get his team ready and be waiting for Grace when they brought her in. Then he was diverting the police, while Taviano and Ricco kept a loose barrier between Vittorio and anyone coming into the parking lot. Bodyguards showed up. Three carloads, led by Emilio and Enzo Gallo. They were out and taking charge of the entire lot.
Two detectives arrived, and Stefano beckoned them through the security line. Art Maverick and Jason Bradshaw had investigated the Ferraro family on more than one occasion. Vittorio, like the rest of his family, considered them fair and decent men. They weren’t egotistical, and they always remained polite, even when frustrated. The family tried to cooperate with them as best they could. When the Ferraros had evidence involving a crime that they could pass on, they always saw to it that the evidence ended up with Maverick and Bradshaw.
“Who beat the shit out of Gori and Sarto?” Art Maverick asked. There was a trace of amusement in his voice that he tried his best to hide. EMTs were working on both men.
“Vittorio,” Stefano said immediately. “He came out into the parking lot to see Grace’s foster brother dragging her out of the trunk of the Honda.” He indicated the car with the open trunk. “Apparently, Haydon was going to sell her to the two morons in exchange for his gambling debt. In other words, sell her into prostitution.”
Art and Jason exchanged a long look of smoldering anger. “Are you certain about that?” Jason asked.
“Vittorio overheard them, and Grace can verify if she lives through this.”
“Who shot her?” Art directed the question at Vittorio.
Vittorio was on his feet following the gurney to the ambulance, grateful for the information coming so fast to his phone. “Haydon Phillips, her foster brother. Ale put a gun to Haydon’s head to scare Grace into complying. I knocked it away, beat the crap out of him and then went after Lando because he had his hands on Grace. While I had him down, Haydon picked up the gun and went to shoot me, and she took the bullet.” He pushed past the detective and slid into the ambulance. No one tried to stop him.
As the door was being closed he spotted his sister, Emmanuelle, running across the parking lot toward the ambulance. Then the door was slammed shut and the ambulance was moving fast through the streets of Chicago toward the hospital. His phone was blowing up with information regarding his woman. He didn’t glance down, not yet. Her eyes were locked with