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  She laughed at the memory and found tears burned too close behind her eyes. "I love him. If I could, I'd take care of him myself, but he needs special care. He has seizures sometimes, and he can't do a lot of things for himself yet. This facility is not only a live-in place, but a rehabilitation center. They've worked miracles on patients. I'm hoping for one for Sandlin. Even if he never remembers me, and the doctors say he won't, I want him to get to a place where he can take care of himself, at least the simplest task. If something happens to me and I can't pay for him to stay there, I want him to be able to do a few things for himself."

  "Does he remember you now, as you are, going to see him?"

  She nodded. "I'm trying to build our relationship again. I think he looks forward to seeing me." Her voice had a little quiver in it she couldn't quite stop.

  He reached down and took her chin with his fingers, lifting her face so she was forced to look at him. She was afraid he was seeing too much so she lowered her lashes, veiling her eyes. She wasn't crying, she hadn't since she lost them all, her parents and Sandlin, but she could feel that burn and was terrified it showed. She didn't want to appear vulnerable to him. She wasn't the kind of girl that needed taking care of and she wasn't about to let him think she was.

  "Sweetheart, he sounds like a man I would like to get to know. He might not remember his past, but I'm betting, he's always good to you when he sees you."

  She nodded. "He's so sweet." She wrapped her arms around her middle for comfort and forced a smile. The nicer he was to her, the more the tears threatened. "He's never impatient, and that's the way he was before. There are things that make me know he's still there. He's still my brother, he just doesn't know me or remember from before. We had a special relationship and I know I never can have that again, but I'm working on a new one with him." It took effort to keep her voice from cracking.

  "How often do you visit him? You can't have much time if you're working sixteen hours a day," he pointed out.

  "The club job pays the most, and I start at six. Visiting hours are up until nine o'clock, but I mostly go on my days off the deli. Speaking of which, if I don't get out there, Pietro might fire me and I can't afford that. I'm off tonight at the club, so I'm going to see him tonight. I go as often as I can."

  Finding the time to see her brother was difficult though. The facility was across town and she had to take the bus. Sometimes that was uncomfortable at night. More than once, she'd wished she had a weapon to protect herself. Buses were convenient, but sometimes she wished she had a car.

  "Let me take you there tonight. My car is comfortable. I'd like to look around the facility and talk to those in charge. If you give me the name and address of it, I can have my people check it out thoroughly."

  She didn't want him helping, because that would only encourage him, but she would do anything for Sandlin. "My brother was always there for me when I was growing up. Always. I knew, no matter where I went or what I did, no matter how much trouble I got into, Sandlin would come for me. More than once, when I snuck out to a party, it was my brother I called and he dropped everything, including some pretty hot dates, to get me out of trouble." She knew she was telling him, trying to explain, so he wouldn't think badly of her for taking advantage of his offer. He'd made it, but she felt bad that she needed something from him. She didn't want to be that person.

  He flashed a grin at her. "Did you get into a lot of trouble?"

  She nodded. "I worked hard in school and on the ranch, doing an adult's work, so I thought I should be able to go wild on the weekends like my friends. Drinking is not my friend. The booze we had was really cheap and hangovers hurt like hell."

  She started laughing at a memory, sharing it with him, wanting him to know how wonderful her brother was. "I remember this one time my brother had a date with Ginger Tarter. I called her 'The Tart' to my brother, but she was really good-looking. She had breasts and hips and these lips." She pursed her lips and made fishy noises.

  "Sandlin was with her, right at the crucial moment, getting her clothes off her, and I called in a panic. I was pretty drunk and the man I went to the party with was expecting the same thing Sandlin was getting. I locked myself in the bathroom and called him. Of course, he came, and I never heard the end of it, but he never told my parents."

  "I'd really like to meet him," Giovanni said. He pulled out his phone. "Name and address?"

  She took a breath. Anything for her brother. Anything at all. This wasn't a commitment to Giovanni, simply a friend helping out. She could look at it that way. She hoped she'd chosen the right place for him. She'd researched, and read all kinds of reviews, but she knew any care facility was only as good as the people it hired. She didn't want her brother neglected or mistreated, and she didn't know if he was capable of telling her if someone was hurting him in any way. She told Giovanni and he was instantly texting someone. He was fast at it, too, much faster than she was.

  "What time should I pick you up?"

  Her heart jumped. "I get off at five today. I usually jump right on the bus."

  "Do you want to change first? We could catch dinner after your visit." He held up his hand to stop her protest. "We have to eat sometime. We might as well eat together. I refrained from biting you, remember?"

  She narrowed her eyes at him. "Were you thinking of biting me?"

  "Absolutely I was. I still am, but I'll make sure you like it."

  She shook her head and pushed out of the seat. Instantly the heat of his body told her she was too close, and she stepped away from him. "I'm going back to work. I'll see you later."

  He made no move to touch her--or kiss her--a fact that should have made her happy but instead disappointed her. "Be good. Stay away from those other men. I have that one really unfortunate trait."

  "One? You aren't furthering your cause you know," she said, smirking a little over her shoulder. "I believe you have many unfortunate traits." Laughing, she hurried down the hall to the counter, wondering why she suddenly felt so happy.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sasha went out the back door of the deli, which led into an alley. She glanced at her watch. It was after three. Pietro had let her off early. She'd texted Giovanni and he was probably waiting out front, but just before she left, Pietro had gone to the bank and Aria, the girl who was supposed to relieve her, hadn't shown up right away.

  Sasha didn't want to get into his car smelling of deli meat so she ran up the stairs, determined to take a quick shower. At the top of her stairs was a bouquet of roses. They lay there, a little wilted from lack of water, but the splash of color was cheerful against the bleached wood. She bent down to pick them up, thinking for a moment that Giovanni had left them.

  She realized immediately that they weren't from a flower shop; someone had hand-picked them, cutting the long stems carefully. Every thorn was gone. She looked around for a card, but there wasn't one. She brought the roses to her face, inhaling the rich fragrance. They were beautiful, and it was sweet that someone would go to the trouble of putting together a bouquet. They were wrapped in red and gold tissue paper.

  She straightened slowly and looked around, feeling as if someone was watching her. Fingers of icy fear crept down her spine. She unlocked her door and went inside. The moment she stepped into her apartment, she knew someone else had been there. It felt different. She stood very still, letting her gaze sweep the entire room. It wasn't difficult--her place was small. Easy to manage. Easy to see from the living area to the kitchen because it was really all one room. Everything seemed to be there. As far as she could tell from just glancing around, nothing had been taken, but her things had been touched.

  From where she was, she could see someone had put wineglasses, two of them, near her reading chair. Then there was the table: each item on it, mementos of her family, things that meant nothing to anyone else, but everything to her, had been moved. She kept them in a certain order. Her parents' photograph, the one where they were looking at each other with such love. It was
inside an antique silver frame. Beside it, she put her mother's favorite pincushion and her father's pipe. She liked to have the two items touching because her parents had always been touching. The pipe was several inches from the pincushion and the pincushion was on the wrong side of the pipe.

  Someone had picked up her parents' things. They'd touched the photograph as well. It was turned slightly, so that walking in the door, she couldn't see their faces. Sandlin's picture, the one with the two of them, brother and sister riding side by side on their favorite horses, the sun setting behind them, had been turned toward her parents' photograph, rather than facing out toward the door.

  Staying in the doorway, she peered at the table where the little mementos were kept. Her brother's key chain wasn't there. Her heart nearly stopped and then began to pound. She wanted to run over to the table and look all around in case it had dropped to the floor, but the doors to the bathroom and bedroom were closed. She never closed the bedroom door. She wasn't about to set foot in the apartment alone. She backed out and shut the door carefully and extra quietly.

  Running down the stairs and across the alley toward the deli, she nearly ran right into Giovanni. He caught her by the shoulders to steady her.

  "What's wrong?" The question was clipped, almost growled. He sounded dangerous, and for once she was glad. His gaze swept over her, taking in everything, including the bouquet of flowers she still clutched in her arms. "What is it? You're very pale."

  "Someone was in my apartment. They touched my things. I didn't go into the bathroom or bedroom." She didn't realize she was shivering until he wrapped his arms around her and held her close to his body. He felt strong and safe. "The doors were closed and I thought maybe it would be better to get someone to come with me."

  "I'm going to call the police and a couple of my brothers," Giovanni said. "My brothers will get here faster than the cops. We'll go in and make certain no one's inside."

  She shook her head. "Wait for the police. If someone's in there, they could have a weapon."

  He set her aside, texted in that extremely fast way he had and then started up the stairs. She followed. He turned back to her, frowning at her.

  "Go into the deli where I know you're safe."

  "I can't do that. There isn't any point in arguing with me. I'll just do what I think is right. If you're going in, I'm going with you."

  "Where did you get those flowers?"

  She glanced down at the bouquet, once again surprised she was holding it. "They were in front of my door."

  "Whoever went inside left them for you," he surmised. "At least the probability is high."

  She dropped them immediately onto the ground, the same weird tingle of fear slithering down her spine. "That's horrible. Why would someone leave me obviously hand-picked flowers and then sneak into my apartment and touch my things?"

  "I don't know, honey, but we'll find out."

  Giovanni glanced around the alley, up toward the rooftop of the opposite building and then took her hand and pulled her to him. Taviano and Ricco strode out from around the corner of the alley, both wearing the signature pin-striped suit all the Ferraros seemed to wear.

  "Sasha, you met Taviano, and this is my brother Ricco," Giovanni said. "I was just heading upstairs to see what's going on in her apartment. Taviano is going to stay with you. Ricco will go with me. He's tough, he can defend me if someone jumps out at me." He bent his head to hers to brush a kiss along her temple. Deliberately, he took her hand and placed it in Taviano's. "Don't let her out of your sight. I'm putting her in your care."

  There was something about the formality of the way Giovanni worded it that had her gaze jumping to his face. He was looking at his brother. Something she missed passed between them, and Taviano nodded.

  Giovanni caught her chin in hard fingers. "This time, honey, you stay right here. I can't be dividing my attention, looking out for you and sweeping your apartment." There was steel in his voice. Sasha was independent, a woman who went her own way and made her own decisions, but she wasn't about to defy that voice. More, she wasn't going to put him in danger through her own recklessness.

  Giovanni took the lead going up the stairs. "Someone's watching from the roof. Text Stefano and let him know. I caught the glint of binoculars. The idiot isn't that good at hiding himself. He's watching us. I'm betting it's the same man who was in her apartment." He kept moving up the stairs. His brother was fast on his phone, even faster than Giovanni, and he could text as he hurried up to the door.

  Giovanni bent to examine the lock without touching anything. "There are scratch marks here. He used a pick. I'm going to have to get her a better lock, Ricco, and dead bolts inside, if she's going to stay here."

  Pulling on gloves, he opened the door and stepped inside. Her apartment smelled like her--fresh cinnamon candy-covered apples. He loved the way she smelled, and entering her home, knowing it held that same scent he was beginning to be obsessed with, gave him a rush of pleasure in spite of the circumstances. He signaled to his brother to stand to one side of the closed door. He opened it carefully.

  Her bathroom was small and very neat. There was no way for anyone to hide in the open space. Her shower curtain was transparent, so even that wouldn't have been a hiding place for an intruder. He looked around, taking in everything she had on the marble sink. Makeup, although she used it sparingly, he knew. A jar of colored bath salts. An electric toothbrush and water flosser. The woman took care of her teeth and it showed. They were straight and white. She had a dazzling smile.

  A lipstick lay next to a bottle of perfume. Strange, the perfume was in a beautiful bottle, but it wasn't that cinnamon candy-covered apple he knew was her signature scent; it was a high-end brand he recognized, but the floral scent wouldn't suit Sasha. He couldn't imagine her wearing it.

  Her towels were jet-black, which surprised him. He expected her to have chosen more of a pastel color. The two towels were hung with obsessive neatness, which was too bad. He liked neat, but he wasn't always careful about where he flung his clothes, so the fact that her towels were hung exactly symmetrically was probably a bad thing. Again, he was careful not to touch anything. He wanted Sasha to tell him if anything had been moved or taken.

  The bedroom was next and he opened that door cautiously, keeping out of the line of fire just in case the intruder was still inside and had a gun. The bed was in his line of sight, the comforter a pale mauve. There were girlie pillows on it, up near the head of the bed. In the exact center was a large heart made of roses, the same type of roses that were now on the ground outside in the alley. Inside the heart, laid out precisely in the center, were a sheer thong panty and bra. They were fire-engine red and nothing more than cord and lace, beautiful, sexy and perfect for his woman. He couldn't imagine that she had placed them there, but he was certain the lingerie already belonged to her.

  He looked at his brother. "What the fuck is that?"

  One look around the small room told him an intruder wasn't hiding there, not even in the closet. The double doors to the long walk-in were open, revealing a meager amount of clothing. Mostly jeans hung neatly alongside two dresses and several tops.

  "There's a note." Ricco removed it from where it lay between the lace bra and panties.

  Wear these for me tomorrow.

  The words were typed out on a single sheet of paper. Giovanni cursed under his breath. "This isn't good. Someone's fixated on her."

  "I'm not surprised," Ricco said. "She's beautiful and ... extraordinary. That smile of hers could stop a war. She has that face, Gee, the kind a man would spend a lifetime wanting to just stare at. I'm not even going to talk about her body because I'm not looking at her that way. I see her and know she belongs to you and the family. Someone to protect, but other men, they're going to see her and want her. She's got something intangible, a magic about her, and you're going to have your hands full keeping the competition away. Think about that, because it's going to be for the rest of your life."

  Giova
nni knew every word Ricco said about Sasha was the truth. He'd felt the pull of her magic, that mixture of innocence and temptress, her smile, the one that his brother had referred to. He also knew that the assessment coming from Ricco, who loved his wife above all else, was true and stated as a fact rather than interest. Maybe even a warning.

  "Let's get her and find out if anything is missing," Giovanni said. He didn't like her out in the alley where she was exposed.

  He should have known his brother would take care of things. Taviano had Sasha inside the deli. They stood just inside the back door, Taviano's body blocking the entrance. He glanced up at the roof. Stefano stood there, lifted a hand and shook his head to indicate there was no one there. Emme and Vittorio paced along the alley, one on the left side and one on the right. They moved slowly, looking for any evidence of a person setting up traps or cameras or just leaving evidence behind.

  Giovanni went straight to Sasha and wrapped an arm around her. "He's gone, but he left you a note. I need you to go through the apartment and tell me if anything is missing, or if he's disturbed anything. You'll have to hurry, the police tend to show up fast if we're involved."

  "Why?" She looked up at him as they walked toward the stairway. Giovanni wanted to step on the roses and crush them as he passed, but he was careful to step over them just in case the police needed them for evidence.

  "They have the misguided belief that we're criminals. Mafia. They've investigated us numerous times, but they always come up empty-handed." He put his hand on her back as they went up the stairs.

  Ricco was waiting at the top, and he stepped aside to allow her entry into her apartment. She hesitated, just for a second, just long enough that Giovanni noticed, and then she stepped inside and went straight over to the little table that held the photographs of her family.