Deep (Pagano Family #4)(78)

He took the remaining steps to close the distance between them. “No.”

“What?”

“When have I ever let you push me away?” He grabbed hold of the robe and pulled. For a moment, they were at an impasse, Bev clutching the terrycloth close, Nick pulling it away, gently but with determination. “Let me see, Beverly. Let me see.”

“Nick, please. I can’t.”

“I don’t mean to take you, not until you’re ready. But I want to see what has you so fascinated. I know what they did. I made them suffer for it. But I don’t want you to suffer for it.”

He didn’t understand. “Not even you can control that.” She let go of the robe, and he pulled it away.

He dropped it to the floor, and then he stood before her and stared at her, his hands at his sides. Bev shook with shame, but she kept her hands at her sides, too, resisting the need she felt to cover herself.

After interminable seconds ticked away, Nick lifted his hand. Bev flinched, and his eyes lifted from her body to her face. “Easy, bella.”

His fingers grazed the long line of the scar at the side of her breast, and she began to cry. “Please don’t.”

“Does it hurt?”

Unable to answer through her tears, she shook her head. And then she forced words out. “It’s numb. I’m numb. I’m numb everywhere. I’m just numb.” Suddenly overcome by the weight pressing down on her shoulders, the weight of everything that was wrong, everything she’d lost, Bev’s body gave out, and she folded over, sobbing.

Nick caught her, and then she was enfolded in his arms, her naked, numb, weak body surrounded by his clothed, passionate, strong one. He swept her up and carried her to the bed, then sat down, settling her on his lap. He held her and rocked her while she cried, combing his fingers through her hair and murmuring soft Italian nothings in her ear. The words meant nothing to her. And they meant everything.

She cried longer and harder than she had since the diner—since long before that. When she was finally cried out, she stayed where she was, limp in his arms, taking strength and calm from his love of her.

“We’ll stay home today.” He spoke in the same soft tone as before.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’ll wash my face and get ready.” She pushed herself back from his chest, but he kept his arms tight around her.

“We’ll stay home. There’ll be other parties—there’s a wedding next month.”

She didn’t fight him; she was exhausted and didn’t want to go to a party full of strangers and happiness. “I want to get dressed, at least.”

For an answer, he moved his hand and brushed his fingers again over her scar. Bev closed her eyes and tried not to cower from his touch.

“I’m not trying to be sexual, bella. But I don’t want you to hide from me anymore. I think hiding is keeping you numb.”

“I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”

He caught her chin and made her look at him. “You are. When I came into that kitchen and found you, the first thing you did was ask for help for Donnie and Bruce. Everything that happened to you, and you were worried about the others. Irv—Chief Lumley—said it looked like you crawled back to Donnie after they left. You did that to check on him, didn’t you? After everything, you didn’t give up. You got yourself back to Donnie.”

Her chin felt odd, and she realized that his hand was shaking.

“I want you back, Beverly. I want you to remember how strong you are. I want you to have back your hope and your faith in the world. Your light. They didn’t take that from you. That scar is a battle scar. And you won.”

If she had had more tears to cry, she would have. But she was dry. Tired and dry. So she tucked her head against his neck and let him hold her. It no longer mattered that she was bare to him.





19



Nick sat with Ben, Fred, and the capos at their table at Dominic’s, eating a lunch of steak and lobster. Once a month, the administration sat down like this with the capos and discussed business. Dominic’s was one of their safe zones, swept routinely and well guarded.

The Pagano Brothers were the majority owners, with the head chef, Dominic Cuoco, holding a thirty percent share. It was the most elegant restaurant in Quiet Cove and for miles up and down the coast. The dining area was built out over the water on stilts, the walls on the water side made of glass—bulletproof glass. Hurricane Sandy had destroyed the place, and when they’d rebuilt, they’d done so with an eye toward a particular kind of security.

Julie and Dom had done their reporting. By their accounts, business was steady again and even improving. In the several weeks since Alvin Church’s demise, order and balance had been restored to the underworld, and the Paganos were again its undisputed leaders. Maintaining that balance kept violence low and settled the concerns of all their friends in business and politics. Rhode Island ran smoothly when its underside was settled.

The Council alliances were strong, too. Turning back the Zapatas in the way that they had had settled flare-ups in all of the Council neighborhoods. Ben had been right to choose that connection, the cartel and Jackie Stone, as the place for open battle. All the dons knew that there was no way to keep drugs out of New England, and in fact there was movement in from New York already, but they could keep the power out of the dealers’ hands. Power was key. And the Council families had it.