Chapter 8

8

Axel

"Into Xander's home?" Luca bursts out. "You're letting him move into our brother's home?"

"He's our brother too," Michael replies without taking his gaze off of me.

Luca seems like he's going to protest some more, then firms his lips.

"You want me to move into Xander's place?" I rub the back of my neck. "Are you sure about that?"

"If Xander were alive, he would have wanted you to move in under his roof, so he could get to know you better. Besides, his place is lying vacant, and he would have hated for it to be treated like some kind of a shrine." He raises a shoulder. "I've moved his things out of his bedroom and refurbished it to suit your needs. There are enough rooms to accommodate a physical therapist, as well, and household staff on call around the clock to help provide for your needs. As for his studio," Michael glances away, then back at me, "I have left it as it is. You and Christian can decide what you want to do with his paintings."

What he's saying makes sense, but I'm not sure how I feel about moving into Xander's home. Especially when I can't get over the suspicion that they are treating me as some kind of a replacement for him. I purse my lips. "And if I refuse?" I ask Michael.

"You won't," he states.

"And why is that?"

"Because you have nowhere else to go, and this is the only way you are going to stay alive."

"Brotherly love, huh? Gotta say, it hits me right here." I manage to raise my hand and thump my chest, then wince when even that small action causes my muscles to protest.

"The house will be guarded, of course," Michael adds.

"Of course." I tilt my head.

"For your own protection."

And so you can track my movements, no doubt.

"We haven't yet been able to trace the identity of the man who broke into your hospital room. Whoever he was, he's not on the police database, nor is he affiliated to any of our rival gangs." He watches me closely as he speaks "I take it that doesn't surprise you?"

"It doesn't," I admit. "The people we are dealing with are not amateurs."

"And you know that, how?"

"Just a feeling." I rub the back of my neck. "Doesn't matter. I don't have a clear recollection of my past. Instinct tells me the people I worked with are the ones who sent the man to kill me. And considering they were my associates, I can promise you they are professionals. They don't muck about."

"You were lucky Christian shot him when he did," Michael points out.

"Are you telling me this because you want me to apologize to him for what I did to him and his wife?"

"It would help." Michael's gaze narrows. "In this business, family is what has your back. Family is what makes you strong enough that you can take on your rivals."

"You mean, safety in numbers?"

"We have a lot of enemies. If we fight with each other, it only makes us weak."

I stay silent.

He watches me for a few seconds, then tilts his head. "I have arranged for the doctors to check you out regularly, and the physical therapists will help you get back on your feet."

"You seem as much in a hurry for me to get better as I am."

"You're my brother"—Michael raises a shoulder—"of course, I want you to get better."

"Don't bullshit me, Michael," I drawl. "What's the real deal here?"

"We need you to regain your memory so we can find out who put you up to killing Christian."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm aware that your arranging for me to stay here buys me time to get me back on my feet, but don't mistake it for weakness. I don't take kindly to orders."

We glare at each other, then Michael bares his teeth. "If it was your idea to kill Christian, then nothing in the world can save you, Axel."

"Wait…" Theresa walks over to stand between me and Michael. "You can't be implying what I think you are."

"You know I don't have a choice, Theresa. If he's turned against us, then I can't let him live."

"No"—Theresa shakes her head—"there must be some other way."

"Let's hope the reason for his actions doesn't turn out to be the kind that necessitates such action then."

"He's your brother, Michael," Theresa pleads with him. And for some reason, I hate it. She shouldn't be asking him to spare my life. Hell, she shouldn't be asking anyone for anything… Except. Me. She should be pleading with me for her orgasm. Pleading with me to spank her. Pleading with me to make her come. Pleading with me for my forgiveness. She should be allowed to only use that tone of voice with me, not anyone else.

"Please, Michael, don't do this."

"Theresa, stop. You don't need to beseech him for anything."

"I do!" She scowls at me over her shoulder. "He's the Don, in case you haven't noticed. He can take anyone's life at any time, and no one can say no to him."

"So can I." The words burst out of me, and I'm not sure where they come from. Perhaps instinct, or perhaps, I'm regaining some of my memory.

I glance up to find Michael and Luca watching me intently.

"What was that all about?" Theresa asks in a low voice. "Why did you say that? Is it because you're like Michael? Are you also a Don? But that doesn't make sense. If you were the head of a clan, you wouldn't be going around dirtying your hands. You would be putting others up to the job."

"Unless this was so personal—" Michael interjects.

"If I couldn't trust anyone else." I exchange glances with him. So we're on opposite teams, for all purposes, but damn, if the two of us don't think alike. If my brief interaction with my other brothers is any indication, Michael and I are the closest when it comes to how we approach a problem.

"So you understand why I need to keep you under guard for the moment?" Michael murmurs. "You may be my brother, but until you give me a reason to trust you, I'll have to treat you as I would a potential enemy."

"I'd have done the same thing in your position," I admit. "Doesn't mean I'm not going to be angry with you for doing this."

"I'd have the same reaction," Michael agrees.

"Jesus, for guys who don't like each other, you sure do think alike," Luca grumbles.

"For the moment, at least, we are on the same side." I shoot Michael a glance. "At least, until I'm back on my feet, you can be assured that I won't have the strength to come for you."

"I'm not holding my breath," Michael informs him. "And you, Theresa." He turns to me. "What are you going to do, now that Axel is moving out of the hospital?"

"She goes with me," I snap.

"No way am I going anywhere with you," Theresa retorts at the same time, then shoots me an angry glance. So fucking cute. Like she has any say in this matter.

I glare at Michael, who's watching our exchange with interest.

"Surely, Theresa has a say in this matter," Luca suggests.

"No," I retort.

"Yes, I do." Theresa wraps her arms about her waist. "I can go where I want, when I want, and no one can stop me."

She spins around and stomps to the door, but Luca blocks her way.

"Let me go," she says in a low voice.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that," Luca replies, his tone gentle. "It's not safe for you to be without someone guarding you."

"What?" She tips up her chin. "Why? I have never had guards on me before."

"You were almost killed?—"

"By mistake. I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time; the bullet wasn't meant for me."

"Probably not, but until we figure out who the person who shot Axel was aiming at, no-one in the family is allowed to go anywhere unprotected."

"So I'm supposed to walk around with guards in tow?" She scoffs.

"And you'll need someone in your home, as well," Michael interjects.

"What?" She turns around."That's terrible. I don't want anyone coming into my house."

"I agree." I widen my stance. "I'm not comfortable with any man in her personal space, either."

"Unless it's you, I presume?" Luca chuckles.

She glares at him, and he turns the sound into a cough. "Sorry, it was merely an observation."

"Not funny." She scowls at him.

"You may have a point," I say slowly. "She definitely needs a guard on her. She needs to be protected from everyone, except me."

"Oh?" Michael's eyebrows shoot up, "And why is that?"

"Because I took a bullet for her. Ergo, I'm the only one proven not to want to harm her."

Axel

"Into Xander's home?" Luca bursts out. "You're letting him move into our brother's home?"

"He's our brother too," Michael replies without taking his gaze off of me.

Luca seems like he's going to protest some more, then firms his lips.

"You want me to move into Xander's place?" I rub the back of my neck. "Are you sure about that?"

"If Xander were alive, he would have wanted you to move in under his roof, so he could get to know you better. Besides, his place is lying vacant, and he would have hated for it to be treated like some kind of a shrine." He raises a shoulder. "I've moved his things out of his bedroom and refurbished it to suit your needs. There are enough rooms to accommodate a physical therapist, as well, and household staff on call around the clock to help provide for your needs. As for his studio," Michael glances away, then back at me, "I have left it as it is. You and Christian can decide what you want to do with his paintings."

What he's saying makes sense, but I'm not sure how I feel about moving into Xander's home. Especially when I can't get over the suspicion that they are treating me as some kind of a replacement for him. I purse my lips. "And if I refuse?" I ask Michael.

"You won't," he states.

"And why is that?"

"Because you have nowhere else to go, and this is the only way you are going to stay alive."

"Brotherly love, huh? Gotta say, it hits me right here." I manage to raise my hand and thump my chest, then wince when even that small action causes my muscles to protest.

"The house will be guarded, of course," Michael adds.

"Of course." I tilt my head.

"For your own protection."

And so you can track my movements, no doubt.

"We haven't yet been able to trace the identity of the man who broke into your hospital room. Whoever he was, he's not on the police database, nor is he affiliated to any of our rival gangs." He watches me closely as he speaks "I take it that doesn't surprise you?"

"It doesn't," I admit. "The people we are dealing with are not amateurs."

"And you know that, how?"

"Just a feeling." I rub the back of my neck. "Doesn't matter. I don't have a clear recollection of my past. Instinct tells me the people I worked with are the ones who sent the man to kill me. And considering they were my associates, I can promise you they are professionals. They don't muck about."

"You were lucky Christian shot him when he did," Michael points out.

"Are you telling me this because you want me to apologize to him for what I did to him and his wife?"

"It would help." Michael's gaze narrows. "In this business, family is what has your back. Family is what makes you strong enough that you can take on your rivals."

"You mean, safety in numbers?"

"We have a lot of enemies. If we fight with each other, it only makes us weak."

I stay silent.

He watches me for a few seconds, then tilts his head. "I have arranged for the doctors to check you out regularly, and the physical therapists will help you get back on your feet."

"You seem as much in a hurry for me to get better as I am."

"You're my brother"—Michael raises a shoulder—"of course, I want you to get better."

"Don't bullshit me, Michael," I drawl. "What's the real deal here?"

"We need you to regain your memory so we can find out who put you up to killing Christian."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm aware that your arranging for me to stay here buys me time to get me back on my feet, but don't mistake it for weakness. I don't take kindly to orders."

We glare at each other, then Michael bares his teeth. "If it was your idea to kill Christian, then nothing in the world can save you, Axel."

"Wait…" Theresa walks over to stand between me and Michael. "You can't be implying what I think you are."

"You know I don't have a choice, Theresa. If he's turned against us, then I can't let him live."

"No"—Theresa shakes her head—"there must be some other way."

"Let's hope the reason for his actions doesn't turn out to be the kind that necessitates such action then."

"He's your brother, Michael," Theresa pleads with him. And for some reason, I hate it. She shouldn't be asking him to spare my life. Hell, she shouldn't be asking anyone for anything… Except. Me. She should be pleading with me for her orgasm. Pleading with me to spank her. Pleading with me to make her come. Pleading with me for my forgiveness. She should be allowed to only use that tone of voice with me, not anyone else.

"Please, Michael, don't do this."

"Theresa, stop. You don't need to beseech him for anything."

"I do!" She scowls at me over her shoulder. "He's the Don, in case you haven't noticed. He can take anyone's life at any time, and no one can say no to him."

"So can I." The words burst out of me, and I'm not sure where they come from. Perhaps instinct, or perhaps, I'm regaining some of my memory.

I glance up to find Michael and Luca watching me intently.

"What was that all about?" Theresa asks in a low voice. "Why did you say that? Is it because you're like Michael? Are you also a Don? But that doesn't make sense. If you were the head of a clan, you wouldn't be going around dirtying your hands. You would be putting others up to the job."

"Unless this was so personal—" Michael interjects.

"If I couldn't trust anyone else." I exchange glances with him. So we're on opposite teams, for all purposes, but damn, if the two of us don't think alike. If my brief interaction with my other brothers is any indication, Michael and I are the closest when it comes to how we approach a problem.

"So you understand why I need to keep you under guard for the moment?" Michael murmurs. "You may be my brother, but until you give me a reason to trust you, I'll have to treat you as I would a potential enemy."

"I'd have done the same thing in your position," I admit. "Doesn't mean I'm not going to be angry with you for doing this."

"I'd have the same reaction," Michael agrees.

"Jesus, for guys who don't like each other, you sure do think alike," Luca grumbles.

"For the moment, at least, we are on the same side." I shoot Michael a glance. "At least, until I'm back on my feet, you can be assured that I won't have the strength to come for you."

"I'm not holding my breath," Michael informs him. "And you, Theresa." He turns to me. "What are you going to do, now that Axel is moving out of the hospital?"

"She goes with me," I snap.

"No way am I going anywhere with you," Theresa retorts at the same time, then shoots me an angry glance. So fucking cute. Like she has any say in this matter.

I glare at Michael, who's watching our exchange with interest.

"Surely, Theresa has a say in this matter," Luca suggests.

"No," I retort.

"Yes, I do." Theresa wraps her arms about her waist. "I can go where I want, when I want, and no one can stop me."

She spins around and stomps to the door, but Luca blocks her way.

"Let me go," she says in a low voice.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that," Luca replies, his tone gentle. "It's not safe for you to be without someone guarding you."

"What?" She tips up her chin. "Why? I have never had guards on me before."

"You were almost killed?—"

"By mistake. I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time; the bullet wasn't meant for me."

"Probably not, but until we figure out who the person who shot Axel was aiming at, no-one in the family is allowed to go anywhere unprotected."

"So I'm supposed to walk around with guards in tow?" She scoffs.

"And you'll need someone in your home, as well," Michael interjects.

"What?" She turns around."That's terrible. I don't want anyone coming into my house."

"I agree." I widen my stance. "I'm not comfortable with any man in her personal space, either."

"Unless it's you, I presume?" Luca chuckles.

She glares at him, and he turns the sound into a cough. "Sorry, it was merely an observation."

"Not funny." She scowls at him.

"You may have a point," I say slowly. "She definitely needs a guard on her. She needs to be protected from everyone, except me."

"Oh?" Michael's eyebrows shoot up, "And why is that?"

"Because I took a bullet for her. Ergo, I'm the only one proven not to want to harm her."

She shuffles her feet then glowers at me. The look on her face indicates she doesn't believe me. She's right.

I may not cause her physical harm, but the havoc I could wreck on her body and to her emotions is something she won't be able to recover from quickly; and neither would I if I am to be honest.

"What are you saying?" Luca frowns.

"That she moves in with me."