CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Since it was just after two in the afternoon, they had a long time to wait before she and Wyatt snuck off to go for a walk and check out the land he and his brothers coveted.

Griffon and Jake were finished with Legos and cleaned up everything just as their younger cousin Silas—Dom's son—came over to see if they wanted to play.

All of the children were adorable, but there was something particularly cute and sweet about Silas. Maybe it was how quiet he was, or how polite, but Vica was pulled to the little boy and determined to make him smile. Because when he smiled it lit up the entire room.

"Boys," she said as the put away the last of the Lego, "would you like to learn how to make your own pasta?"

Their eyes lit up.

"Like spaghetti?" Silas asked.

"Spaghetti, fettuccini, ravioli, tortellini. Anything you'd like."

Three little heads bobbed .

Vica glanced at Wyatt for permission even though she knew he'd say yes. She could tell he still wasn't feeling quite right, and even though she had a bit of a headache, she was okay for the most part. A little sore in a few places, but otherwise okay. Her mind, however, was in desperate need of a distraction. So she was going to take that in the form of three little boys who wanted to learn how to make pasta from scratch.

Wyatt nodded. "We have a spare pasta maker in the restaurant. I can run down and grab it."

But she waved him off. "No, no. You're not feeling great. I'm sure I'll be fine. Nobody would be stupid enough to come after me in daylight with customers and cabin guests everywhere. I'm safe on the property." She rested a hand on his arm where they stood in the kitchen. "Just rest on the couch."

She finished her tea, then took off out the front door, not sticking around to hear his protests or argue with him.

Until recently, she had freedom. Track and his father had changed all that, but she was determined not to give them that kind of power. Surely, she could venture down to the restaurant.

In no time, and without even the feel of eyes watching her, Vica entered the kitchen where Burke, Wyatt's executive chef, greeted her with a big smile. "How's the boss man?"

"Stubborn and not resting enough," she said. "I'm here for the spare pasta maker. I'm going to turn three little boys into world class Italian chefs."

Burke grinned big, straight, white teeth which seemed to glow against his tanned complexion. "I love it. Hang on. Let me get it for you." He disappeared into one of the storage rooms.

"Hey Vica." Nadine greeted as she came through the swinging door from the front of house, Ginny was right behind her.

"Hey Vica," Ginny said as well. "How are you guys doing after the accident last night? That was so scary."

Vica nodded. "Yeah … we're all pretty sore. Wyatt probably the most. He is just taking it easy."

Ginny pursed her cupid's bow lips together then frowned, shaking her head. "Do you still think it's tied to what happened to you here?"

Shrugging, Vica bent down and picked up a piece of lettuce off the tile floor, walking the few steps over to the trash bin. "I don't honestly know. But whoever it is, they made the very bad choice of going after me when there were children in the car."

Ginny's amber eyes went wide. "Oh … yeah, no kidding. Big mistake." She finished what she was doing with the salad dressing tubs, smiled awkwardly and left.

Nadine offered Vica a more genuine smile. "I'm really glad you're all safe, Vica. Truly. My heart just fell to my feet when I heard what happened. Take care and send my love to Wyatt and the boys." Then she took her armload of napkins back through the swinging doors.

Burke appeared less than a heartbeat later carrying the commercial grade, metal, hand-crank pasta machine.

" Perfecto !" she said with a big smile while taking it from the handsome chef with short-cropped hair and big arm muscles. "How are things going down here?"

"Wyatt might be surprised to believe it, but we're functioning quite well without him. We miss him, but everyone has rallied, and orders are still going out in a timely fashion. Hopefully, our big Kahuna realizes after this that he needs to start taking more days off and spending more time with his kids. Those boys are going to grow up faster than he realizes, and he'll have missed it being here with us the whole time." The sincerity of his words and love for Wyatt shone in Burke's soulful gray-blue eyes with the unique flecks of copper around the irises.

"I hope so too," she said. "They're great kids."

"The best," he agreed with a smile.

She waved at a few other friendly faces in the kitchen, thanked Burke one more time, then exited out the back kitchen door.

She was nearly at the security gate when a loud crack echoed in the woods, followed by three more. Something whizzed past her ear. Then something sharp, hot, and painful lashed at her arm causing her to let go of the pasta maker. She dropped to the gravel instantly, glancing at her right bicep where, sure enough, blood poured from where what had to be a bullet grazed her skin.

The pub door flew open and she glanced back to see Dominic, his eyes wide. Clint was running out of the brewery and Burke was running out of the kitchen's back door.

All three men were on high alert. Beyond the gate, she saw Bennett come running out of his house toward her. One thing was for sure, every single one of them had the same look on their face.

They were in defense mode and ready to fight.

"Get back in the restaurant," Dom yelled at a few stupid patrons who came out to see what was going on.

"Into your cabins," Clint barked at cabin guests. "Now!"

People scurried and listened to them. Nobody questioned these men when they spoke like that.

"Vica," Bennett said from the other side of the gate. "Are you okay?"

"I … I think I was shot," she said.

His blue eyes went wide. "Where?"

"Um … my arm. It looks like just a graze though."

"Can you lift your arm?"

She lifted her arm. "Yeah."

"Can you army crawl to the man door. I know it's going to hurt your knees, but I don't want you to stand up."

Abandoning the pasta maker, she slowly army crawled across the gravel, using just her left arm. The sharp rocks dug into her knees and elbows, but she ignored the pain until she reached Bennett and the open door.

"You got her?" Dom called .

"Got her," Bennett replied, scooping up Vica into his arms and running full tilt with her back to his house. "Justine!" he called as soon as he entered the front door. "Vica's been shot."

Justine emerged at the top of the stairs, her eyes wide with horror.

Their house was the exact same layout as Wyatt's, just decorated a little differently.

"Vica's been shot?" came Aya's little voice as she entered the living room from the kitchen.

"Just a graze," Vica said. "I'll be okay."

"I've got my medical kit," Justine said, hurrying down the stairs.

The front door burst open to reveal Wyatt and the three boys. Terror streaked across all of their faces. "Christ Almighty, Vica. I knew you shouldn't have gone down there alone." He slid to the floor beside her, but Justine was quick to shoo him out of the way so she could tend to Vica. He sat on the couch at Vica's feet. The cousins all curious, but knowing they needed to stay out of the way, convened in the kitchen with a package of cookies between them. Emme had come down the stairs to join them.

"Well, you're right that it looks like just a graze," Justine said, holding gauze to Vica's bleeding arm. "Nothing's been nicked."

"What in the absolute fuck is going on?" Bennett said. "We have guests and children on this property. First, they try to run Vica off the road. Then, they run your whole family off the road, shoot at you, and now they're shooting at Vica on our fucking property?" He shook his head as rage burned in his blue eyes. He pulled out his phone. "I'm calling Myla." Then he put his phone to his ear and stepped away.

Wyatt's complexion was getting greener by the second, and although Vica's arm hurt, she wasn't really concerned about herself. Justine patched her, and the moment she finished, Vica sat up. "Wyatt, you don't look well."

"I'm fine," he said, swallowing at the same moment Clint and Dom entered the house. Then Wyatt's eyes rolled backward, his lids closed, and he slumped back against the couch cushions.

"Shit," Clint exclaimed, lunging forward. He hauled his brother up and started slapping his cheek gently. "Wyatt! Wyatt, wake up."

Justine was right there. She checked his pulse and breathing. "We need to get him to the hospital. I don't know what's going on, but there's nothing I can do for him here."

Clint and Dom carried Wyatt out to Clint's truck and loaded him. Vica wanted desperately to go with them, but she knew with her in the vehicle, their safety would be compromised. Glancing over at Griffon and Jake, and seeing the fear in their eyes, she knew she was needed here more.

"Come here, boys," she said from her spot on the couch. They ran to her from the kitchen table and even though it hurt to lift her arm and wrap it around Griffon, she did it anyway. "Your father is going to be all right. Justine is the best, and so is Dr. Malone. He is in very good hands."

Griffon glanced down at her arm. "Someone shot you."

"Yeah, but I'm too tough for them. They're going to have to try a lot harder than that to take down Ludovica Vitale."

She met Bennett's gaze across the room.

That was exactly what they were all afraid of.

Justine had cleaned the wound on her arm and placed several butterfly bandages over it before adhering a large piece of gauze and medical tape over it. It stung, but not too bad. She was able to ignore it for the most part. So, with nothing to do besides wait, Vica decided that she was going to continue with her plan to teach the boys to make pasta .

They all cajoled Bennett into retrieving the pasta maker; and with the help of Jagger at Wyatt's house, she taught Silas, Griffon, and Jake how to make a well of flour on the counter, crack the egg, and mix it in. They all enjoyed that part, but everyone wanted a turn at hand-cranking the machine. That was their favorite part.

"What do you think they're doing to our dad now?" Jake asked as they added spinach to their third batch of pasta dough to make it green.

"I hope they're figuring out whatever is making his sick," Vica said.

He nodded. "Me too."

She glanced at Silas who'd been rather quiet until now. "How are you doing, kiddo?"

He was busy kneading the sun-dried tomato dough they'd just created. "I'm okay."

Unlike Aya, Emme, and Talia, who never stopped talking, it felt like the boys' lips were glued shut sometimes.

"Tell me about your dad," she said, hoping to distract all of them, but also learn more about Wyatt in the process.

"His farts are the stinkiest I've ever smelled in my life," Griffon said, which made Silas giggle. "And he can spend hours in the bathroom."

Jake nudged his brother.

"What?" Griffon said. "It's the truth." Then he turned to Silas. "I mean, your farts stink too, but you are lactose intolerant so its not your fault. You eat a grilled cheese sandwich and your butt tries to explode."

Silas nodded solemnly. "And I take dairy pills to help."

"Exactly," Griffon agreed.

Vica snickered. "What else?"

"He lets us say ‘crap.' That's not a bad word. And we're allowed to make potty humor jokes, just not at the table. And if someone asks us to stop, we need to respect that. But he makes just as many jokes about poop as we do." Griffon glanced at his big brother as if making sure he hadn't said anything offensive this time.

"He calls you the ‘Skidmark Kid of San Camanez,'" Jake said with a cheeky smile. "Because you are."

Griffon went pink in the cheeks. "I am not. At least, not anymore."

"Hey," Vica said, not wanting to embarrass Griffon anymore, "why are ninja farts so dangerous?"

All three boys looked at her with utter captivation.

"Why?" Silas asked, his eyes wide.

"Because they are silent but deadly," she said.

A trio of little boys burst out laughing. Both Silas and Griffon had adorable little-kid belly laughs that warmed Vica through to the very deepest depths of her soul. Being with these children was exactly what she needed.

"What is ‘fart' in Italian?" Griffon asked.

" Scorregia, " Vica said.

All three kids repeated the word over and over again, rolling it around on their tongues.

"I love a good scorregia joke," Silas said.

"Me too." Griffon nodded. "So does my dad." His face turned somber. "You think he's going to be okay, right, Vica?"

Jagger wandered into the kitchen from where he'd been working on his computer in the living room. She met his deep-blue gaze, and worry that mirrored her own shimmered back at her. "He's with the very best, buddy," Jagger said. "Dr. Malone and Justine are going to help him any way they can."

"How long has he been gone?" Jake asked, glancing at his Fitbit. "Feels like a long time. It's already past dinner."

"Oh no!" Vica exclaimed. "We need to get some of this pasta boiling so you kids can eat." She went about filling up a pot to boil while Jagger stepped up to help move things along with the kids.

She had all three little boys and the big, bearded boy with glasses sitting at the table enjoying olive oil, spinach fettuccini with parmesan and fresh basil before six thirty, which was when the door opened, and Clint and Dom ushered Wyatt into the house.

Jake and Griffon abandoned their meals and went to see their father.

"Is his brain broken?" Griffon asked.

"It's severe whiplash," Clint said. "Along with a herniated disc in his upper back. We took him to see Wolfe Unger at his chiro clinic and he diagnosed the disc and whiplash."

Wyatt smiled lazily at them from his spot on the couch.

Dom snickered. "Justine gave him some pretty strong pain meds too."

Wyatt glanced up at Vica. "Well, hello there, sexy lady."

She smiled down at him. "Hi."

His eyes were all glassy and his smile adorable. " Vuoi stare con me per sempre?"

That made her eyes go wide.

"What'd he say?" Griffon asked.

"Uhh … she glanced at everyone around her.

How could she tell them that Wyatt just asked her to stay with him forever? Also, that had to be the drugs talking. He was as much on board with this being temporary as she was. Right?

"He's not making much sense," she finally said. "Something about pizza."

"We have pasta," Griffon offered. "Homemade, and it's the best I've ever had."

Wyatt just smiled as his eyes closed.

"He needs to rest. Wolfe did a lot of work on him, put him on the decompression table, then ice. Then, they hit him with some acupuncture too. A lot of it will just take time and rest, but we think it was the culmination of the pain and shock that finally made his body forfeit the fight and ask for help." Dom ran his hand over the back of Silas's head. "Did you have fun?"

Silas nodded. "Why are ninja farts so dangerous?"

Dom grinned down at his kid. "Why?"

"Because they're silent but deadly! "

Chuckling, Dom ruffled his son's head. "Who told you that one?"

"Vica. She also taught us how to say ‘fart' in Italian." He put the tip of his thumb to the tip of his other fingers like a true Italian, and even threw on a pretty convincing accent. " Scorregia"

That got Jagger, Clint, and Dom really laughing.

"Oh, you're fitting right in with this bunch," Clint said. "And whatever you made smells incredible."

"There is lots leftover," Vica said, hurrying into the kitchen. She filled up two bowls with the fettuccini and brought them over to Clint and Dom. "Here. Please."

They thanked her.

"I'm going to stick around for a bit," Jagger said, speaking mostly to Dom. "Are you heading home or back to the pub?"

"Nadine is running the bar for me. So I think I'm just going to take Si home for the night."

Silas's eyes lit up. "You're home for the night?"

"Yeah, bud. Trying more of a work-life balance thing." He winked at Clint and Jagger before he and his son left.

"Thanks, Vica!" Silas called back to her just before they closed the door.

" Prego!" she replied.

"What does that mean?" Griffon asked.

"No problem. You're welcome. Don't mention it."

" Prego, " he repeated. "And what is ‘thank you'?"

" Grazie. "

" Grazie. Prego. Scorregia." He did the same thing with his thumb and fingers as before and it made Jagger and Clint chuckle.

"Okay, I'm going to head home," Clint said. "Message me if you need anything." He lifted the bowl of pasta. "Thank you for this."

" Prego, " Griffon said, beaming.

"Do you think Dad is hungry?" Jake asked, glancing down at his sleeping father.

"I think we just need to let him rest, buddy," Jagger said, resting a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "If he wakes up and wants something to eat later, then we can offer. But right now, he just needs to rest his mind and body."

Jake nodded. "Okay."

"Let's go finish our dinner," Jagger encouraged, steering his nephews toward the kitchen table again.

Vica sat down at the end of the couch by Wyatt's feet and just stared at him. This was her fault. All of it. And yet, she was so unbelievably happy here. She was in danger. She was a prisoner because she refused to be silenced. She refused to take hush money, and now, Wyndham Croft was trying to quiet her for good. How long before they really did work a lot harder—and succeed—to get rid of her?

Wyatt was already really hurt, and the boys could have been hurt so much worse as well.

Maybe it would be safer, be better for everyone if she just left.

A dull ache formed in her chest at the thought of leaving. She'd fallen in love with her husband, his children, his family, and his island. And yet, her presence there was putting them all in peril.

Tears stung the back of her eyes, and her throat grew tight and painful.

She loved them and her heart would break.

But to keep them safe, she needed to let them go.

Standing up, she grabbed her phone from the pocket of her tight yoga pants and called Gabrielle. Her lawyer would know what to do. She used to help relocate women in danger all the time. Maybe she could help Vica too.

Otherwise, Vica would have to do it herself.

Either way, she couldn't stay here. Not if it put those she loved most in the path of danger.