“A little,” Mia admitted. “My main concern is Bebelle. Mr. Juice has assured me any number of times that she’s safe with my neighbor.”
Gianna grinned, sensing Mia felt more than a passing interest in Mr. Juice. “Well, if Juice said it, you can believe it.”
“Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thanks.” She wandered over to the couch where the Nancy doll perched and glanced over her shoulder at Mia. “May I?”
“Oh, sure. Help yourself.”
“How did you end up with her, anyway?”
Mia shrugged. “It was shortly after my husband died. Bebelle just cried and cried she missed her daddy so bad. One day this strange child came up to her and just put that Nancy doll right in my little girl’s arms. Said Bebelle needed it more than she did. Said it was a magical doll and would bring her happiness. And once it did, she should give it away to someone else in need.” Mia turned her great, dark eyes on Gianna. “You think she’s right? You think it’ll bring my Bebelle happiness?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I think it will.”
Gianna picked up the doll just as a heavy knock sounded on the front door. She stiffened, knowing full well who they’d find there.
Constantine tried Gianna’s cell phone for the umpteenth time since flagging down the taxi. The cabbie drove as fast as he dared, the sizable tip thrown his way aiding in breaking a few speeding laws. That didn’t change the fact that when he got his hands on his future wife—not to mention his future brothers-in-law—there would be hell to pay. He tried Luc’s number again. Juice. Nothing from any of them.
He allowed fury to triumph over panic. It was the only way he could keep from going insane. Hadn’t they discussed her impulsiveness at the lake? Hadn’t he explained in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t a quality he appreciated? Now he understood where it came from. It must be a genetic anomaly that ran down the entire Dante line. Though how that explained Juice, he couldn’t say. Maybe it rubbed off with prolonged association.
“This is the street,” the cabdriver said, pointing. “But the cops have it blocked. Are we too late, do you think?”
Constantine must have replied in Italian because the driver frowned in confusion. He fought to find the appropriate words in English, couldn’t come up with them. Instead he peeled off a number of notes and tossed them in the driver’s direction. He was out of the car in a flash.
Please, God, no. Not Gianna. He couldn’t survive without Gianna. She was his mate. His heart. His life. He loved her more than he thought it possible to love anyone. If something had happened to her… He picked up his speed.
The police stopped him a few houses before the address Gianna had given him. It took endless minutes to make himself understood, to find the appropriate words in the appropriate language to convince them that he belonged on the other side of their blockade. That his future wife was involved. That she needed him, and only him.
Someone down the line waved him through and he took off at a swift jog. Luc stood talking to a police officer. Gianna was nowhere to be seen. He charged toward her brother and would have taken him down if his bride-to-be hadn’t chosen that moment to come flying out of the house and straight into his arms.
“Constantine!” She wrapped her arms tight around his neck. “You’ll never believe what happened.”
“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen,” he growled, snatching her close and enclosing her in a hold she wouldn’t soon escape. “I’m going to knock your brother on his ass.”
“I’d really rather you wouldn’t. Listen to me.” She caught his face between her hands and forced him to look at her. “I said listen to me, Constantine. They caught David. He’s in police custody. I don’t think he’s going to get out of this one, thanks to Brimstone.”
Luc approached, a huge grin on his face. “You should have been here, Romano.” He slapped Constantine on his back. “You could have helped us take d’Angelo down.”
“Let go of me, Gianna,” Constantine demanded.
She clung tighter. “Not if you plan on hitting my brother.”