Chapter Six

Aurelio

She'd been on my mind constantly since the warning.

The gorgeous woman with the cuffs and the panicked, desperate eyes.

I'd racked my brain trying to figure out why she wouldn't let me rescue her.

Until I opened my front door to find her standing there, eyes even more panic-stricken.

With a baby in her arms.

Then it all fucking made sense, didn't it?

Of course she wouldn't let me save her.

She had a baby somewhere that needed her.

It didn't take much deducing to figure out that the baby was Warren's. That he was keeping control over her by keeping control over her son.

As she followed me into my house, leaving a trail of blood that said she'd been walking with no shoes on her feet for a long time, I knew that she'd made a break for it.

And she'd come to… me.

It was clearly an intense situation for her, but I couldn't help but feel a strange warmth in my chest at realizing she knew that she could come to me for help, that I wasn't like that shithead she'd escaped from.

The longer she sat in my kitchen, the more fragile she seemed to get. As, I imagined, the adrenaline of the escape faded, and the reality of trying to figure out her next moves weighed down on her.

I wanted to tell her that she could stay forever for all I cared. But I knew that shit would make me sound like a goddamn psychopath. So I offered her my place as long as she needed.

It was another thing that I needed to discuss at the meeting now, though.

The docks were secure with the round-the-clock guard shift full of soldiers and even associates. We were demanding all hands on deck for this situation.

But the capos… we were all having a meeting.

About what to do about the Warren Graves situation.

About what had been found out about him.

Research wasn't my strongest suit, but I'd done some basic digging that told me that I had clearly underestimated Warren if he was living in a mansion a few towns away.

But there wasn't much anywhere that I could find about what he was into.

I hoped some of the other guys had hit the ground running, had reached out to our contacts to ask if they knew more about him.

I felt weird leaving Claire and Judah alone in the house, though.

Not because there was anything for me to worry about. I didn't keep work shit around. The guns were carefully locked up in wall safes way too high for Judah to reach even if he could find them, hidden behind art.

But because it seemed like Claire really needed support. And leaving her alone with a baby who was going to make demands on her when she was already a little fragile felt wrong.

It wasn't for long, I reminded myself.

And I needed to get them the things they needed to be able to stay with me.

I pulled up to Famiglia, taking a second to find and order a crib that could be picked up at the store after my meeting.

The rest of it could wait until I could walk around the store and pick shit out.

Normally, this was a task I'd leave up to Smush. But she hadn't been as free lately. And, quite frankly, I didn't want it getting back to my mom that I had a single mom and a baby staying with me.

The ideas she would come up with…

"Coming in?" Milo asked, making me jolt, not having seen him walk up.

"Yep," I agreed, turning off my car, rolling up my window, then following my little brother inside.

It was a full house with even the injured Santo in attendance, sitting in a chair with his leg propped up on another chair. Both his pant leg and shirt arm were bulging in the areas over the wounds, likely wrapped up well with gauze and gauze tape. He probably shouldn't have been moving around at all; Lettie wouldn't have wanted him to risk making shit worse. But there was no denying he was a capo now too. With his own crew. He had to be here.

"Luca," I said, moving in at his side. "Can I talk to you after the meeting?" I asked.

"Everything alright?" he asked, looking sleepless and tense.

"Yes. But… there's a development. I want to discuss it with you before everyone else hears about it."

"Okay," he agreed, nodding, then going back to talking to his brother Matteo.

I went and found my own brothers at their table, giving them a nod as I sat down.

"You good?" Lucky asked, those keen older brother eyes seeing more than I wanted them to. "Seems like you're not fully here."

"I am," I lied. "Just trying to figure out how all this shit went down."

And, hey, that was true enough.

I didn't exactly know how Claire and Judah got to my house. I didn't want to press when she was already so worked up. I figured it would come out in due time, though.

"Alright," Luca said a few minutes later, waving a hand over toward Dante, who'd been seated at his side. "Dante has some answers for us about why Warren hasn't exactly tripped any alarm bells for us."

All of the younger guys were go-getters, ready to prove themselves. But I imagined Dante was even more motivated since his brother had been shot by Warren's men.

"I'm sure all of you, like me, got nowhere when you hopped online and tried to look into Warren Graves," he said, getting a nod from all of us. "Save for his address. Which sure as fuck tripped alarm bells because the place is worth millions."

More nods.

"I got nowhere online. So early this morning, I hit the streets, talking to our local contacts. Mainly, the Mallicks, Quinn, and Sawyer. Got nowhere. So I walked my ass over to the Henchmen compound.

"Shoulda gone there first. Always forget that a lot of the younger guys haven't always been in the area, that they've traveled and know more shit than we do about other organizations.

"Anyway, I was talking to Nave. You remember him… son of Lazarus. And some other non-legacy guy named Dezi. Both of ‘em said they knew of a Graves, but his name wasn't Warren. It was William.

"Funny enough, did a quick search. And, yep, Willian Warren Graves lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. Rap sheet as long as my arm. His father's before him was twice as long. His grandfather too."

Claire had said that legacy was important to the fucker. And if he was from a long line of crime, I guess that made sense.

"What's he in?" Lucky asked.

"That's the thing," Dante said. "He's… he's more of an opportunist than anything. A pirate of sorts, I guess. Hears of some profitable deal, swoops in, and steals that shit out from under someone. Jacks eighteen-wheelers full of expensive cargo. Containers full of shit he can sell. Dabbles in drugs. Extortion. Anything, really. But the shit he pulled with us? That's his main bag."

"How the fuck does he get away with that shit over and over?" Milo asked.

"Because he doesn't usually jack shit belonging to other organizations. Dunno what the difference was here. If he just didn't know who he was fucking with. Or if he's just gotten that cocky…" Dante said.

"How big is his organization?" Nino asked.

"Bigger than we originally thought," Dante explained. "Neither Dezi or Nave could give us an exact count, but they said there were dozens of men under him. Keeps his house like a fortress."

Yeah.

To keep the mother of his child and his son prisoner.

"So, clearly, this is something that's going to take some strategy on our part. Figure out who they are, how we can hit them. Until then, though, I want each of you to pull some more of your men in to sit guard on your houses as well as your moms' and sisters' houses. Around the clock. No one is getting shot in their sleep. Or trying to use our women against us. If anyone is short soldiers or associates, let me know. I can redistribute. So can Matteo."

We all broke into conversation then, me debating it out with my brothers who to use and rotate.

We each had our own crews. Mine was smaller than, for example, Lucky's. And Milo's was smaller than mine, since he was only recently Made.

But I didn't want to borrow from anyone else. I wanted my own men who had my best interest in mind when it came to not only protecting my house, staying diligent, but in being discreet if they did happen to see Claire or Judah.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Luca asked when most of the guys filtered out.

"Yeah," I said, patting his shoulder, and leading him further away from everyone else.

"Shit. That good, huh?"

"Someone showed up on my doorstep today, asking for help."

"Okay. Who?"

"Claire and her son, Judah. She's the mother of Warren's son."

"The woman in the car with the cuffs?" he asked, immediately putting shit together. It was what made him such a good leader.

"Yeah."

"Shit."

"Yeah," I agreed.

"What did she want?"

"Mostly, someone to get her off the street, and get her baby something to eat. I didn't have a lot of time to ask her a ton of questions. But it's clear that she'd been Warren's prisoner. And that he would do… anything to get his son back."

"Fuck. Alright. I am going to need to know more about how she got away, if there's anyone who could have known where she was going."

"I will get that information tonight," I agreed.

"She alright?"

"She didn't even have shoes on," I told him. "Feet are all cut to shit. And she's… wound up. Scared. Emotional. But… she's alright. She'd do anything for her kid."

"How old is… Judah, you said?"

"Yeah. Um… one and a half, two? Somewhere around there. Small still. She carried him for over two hours to get to my place."

"A mother would walk two hours over cut glass and burning coals to get their kid safe," Luca said.

"True," I agreed. She sure as hell seemed like a fighter.

"Does she have a family? Somewhere to go? A plan?"

"No. She has no one, she said. I'm sure she's trying to figure out a plan. But she showed up with nothing. No purse, money, IDs…"

To that, Luca nodded.

"You're good with her there? I could ask one of the moms to—"

"No," I cut him off. "I would rather they stay with me. I know I can keep them safe."

"Okay. That's fine by me. For the time being, while shit is… unstable, I think it might be best to keep this between just who really needs to know. You can tell your brothers. I guess Smush will find out eventually too. But don't go letting everyone know."

"You worried about our crew?" I asked.

"No. Maybe," he admitted. "I want to think we're rock-solid. But we're vulnerable right now. And I just want to be careful until shit blows over."

"Yeah. I get that. I don't really need to tell anyone. We already discussed how it was for the best that she not go out of the house for a while, since Warren will have men out looking for them."

"Good. Good. Alright. Keep me up to date on this," he said, his phone pinging several times in a row.

Always something going on for the boss, it seemed.

Which was fine.

My own phone had vibrated a few times, and it looked like Claire had sent me the list that I had to see to.

She'd clearly been modest with it. Listing just the bare essentials. Even marking next to Judah's clothing size that Two or three outfits would be fine.

Two or three, I scoffed as I grabbed two carts at the big box store, walking through the baby section and dropping one of almost everything in the boy section into the cart and grabbing some overnight Pull-Ups before heading to the women's section.

She'd been even more modest with her own requests, but I grabbed a ton of pants and shirts, some sweaters, pajamas, socks, and underwear. There was no bra size listed, so I skipped over that while having a little talk with myself about picturing the poor woman with nothing on under her shirts.

She'd been through enough. She didn't need me eye-fucking her while she rested and recovered.

I swung by the shoes, then made it to the toys. Where I probably went a little too nuts. But kids needed shit to play with. And usually needed to have those toys rotated, so they didn't lose interest.

After the snacks and juices and the high chair, I was technically done. All I had to do was check out then pick up the crib.

But I found myself lingering, walking around with Claire on my mind, since Judah was more than adequately shopped for.

The woman had been a victim and prisoner of a dickhead for years. She deserved some pampering.

Luckily for her, I had a mom and two sisters. So I knew a thing or two about the soft shit they liked.

Fuzzy socks, a nice robe, the coziest blanket I could find. Then the self-care shit that helped them feel better about themselves. Face masks, good body wash and lotion, a little makeup, if she ever wanted to wear any, though she clearly was fucking flawless without it.

Then, done with that, I grabbed some more first aid shit, and checked out before heading home.

I backed the car into the drive, knowing it would be endless trips in through the garage, but I grabbed a few bags and went to the front door first, not wanting to freak her out with the sound of the garage opening without her knowing I was home first.

"It's me," I called in case she was close as I put the key in the lock, hearing the steady beep-beep-beep as I opened the door, then quickly punched in the code on the inside panel.

As I turned, I found her walking in from the living room, Judah on her hip.

And, fuck.

I couldn't count the number of times I'd imagined this very scene. Me coming home from work to find a woman and a kid or two or five waiting for me.

Seeing it was like a kick to the gut.

Even if, I reminded myself, she wasn't mine. Neither was Judah, even if he did send me a big smile as he looked at me.

He was a happy kid.

I figured that was one hundred percent his mother's doing.

"Hey," she said, giving me a wobbly smile.

She'd been crying. Her eyes were red, the lids swollen, and her cheeks splotchy.

I figured it was just overwhelm and relief.

"I have to bring some stuff in through the garage, but I didn't want to freak you out," I told her as I moved through to the kitchen, setting the bags on the table.

By the time I made it back with the next set of bags, she was carefully organizing the clothes for Judah as he played with the big block set in bold, primary colors I'd picked up after watching him try to build with the cups earlier.

"This is too much," she insisted by the third trip in, her eyes round.

"It's not," I insisted before going back for one more round before I carted in the heavy shit.

When I made it back in the last time, I caught her standing there in the kitchen, holding one of the pairs of fuzzy socks in her hands, her lower lip all wobbly.

You knew the woman's life had to be hard when a pair of soft socks made her cry.

I didn't say anything, didn't want to make her insecure about it, just moved over to put a pot of coffee on, figuring I was going to need it before I built the crib and high chair.

"How do you and Judah feel about pasta?" I asked as an icebreaker.

"Pasta?" she asked, looking over.

"For dinner," I clarified.

"It's my favorite thing to eat," she said. "Judah loves it, too. But we… we didn't get to eat it much," she admitted, eyes going dark.

So the bastard controlled her food too.

No wonder she was so fucking skinny.

"Well, you ended up at the right doorstep then, angel. Because pasta is pretty much a nightly thing in an Italian household."

"I could cook," she was quick to offer.

"I got it," I told her, shaking my head. "Figure you'll be covering breakfast and lunch for you two. The least I can do is make dinner easier. I love cooking," I added. "It's not a chore."

"Well, in that case," she said, her smile suddenly softer, sweeter, "you are free to cook as much as your heart desires. What kind of pasta are you making?"

"Alfredo?" I asked, knowing I had all the ingredients. "Throw in some chicken and broccoli to round it out."

"That sounds perfect," she said, beaming.

"Some homemade garlic bread to go with it."

"You… you bake your own bread?" she asked.

"My ma made sure we knew how to feed ourselves," I told her. "Do you cook?"

"I don't bake my own bread, but I can throw together food. I usually only ever got to make Judah's breakfast, though. There… there was a cook with strict instructions for our meals."

Christ, that was controlling.

"In that case, if you could have any dessert, what would you have?"

"Brownies," she said, without even a second of hesitation. "My mom made the best brownies ever. They're my favorite. I don't think Judah has ever had them," she added, looking over at her son. "The staff used to stuff him with ice cream to keep him happy when I was… gone, but those were the only sweets he ever got. Because Warren didn't know about them."

"I'm sure mine won't be as good as your mom's, but I can make brownies."

"Would you mind if I… you know…"

"Made your mom's brownies? No, of course not. Dig around in the pantry and see if I have everything you need. If not, I can get it dropped off. I have someone coming over soon," I added. "Which I actually need to talk to you about."

"Who is it?" she asked, body tensing.

"One of my soldiers. A guard. My boss has decided to beef up security for a while. He wants all of the capos to have a guard stationed outside, day and night."

"Because you're worried about retaliation from Warren."

"Yes."

"Did… was anyone hurt? Of yours, I mean," she said.

"I lost one of my men. And my cousin was shot twice. But we were lucky. Compared to Warren," I told her.

"I'm sorry," she said, eyes sad.

"Loss is hard," I admitted, thinking of the arrangements I still had to make for my man, since he had no family of his own. "But it could have been a lot worse. That said, Warren is probably not going to take it in stride, consequences for his own actions and shi—stuff."

"He's already planning. That's how I got away," she told me as she turned back to the haul on the table, and started pulling tags off the baby clothes. "He was having a meeting. Called in all the guards. That's never happened before. And the grocery delivery van just so happened to be in the driveway. I just grabbed Judah and ran."

"Where'd you go?" I asked, trying to be casual, not like I was prying to get information for my boss. Even if I thought she would understand that I did have to answer to him.

"The library," she admitted. "It was the only free place I could think of. Judah played with puzzles while I tried to figure out what to do."

"How'd you find me?" I asked as she went from the clothes to the crib blankets, removing their tags and packaging.

"I… borrowed someone's library card number to get on the computer to do a search. Apparently, even mafia capo's addresses are public knowledge," she teased. "Then I just wrote down the directions and started walking."

"You must have been terrified," I said, thinking of her walking down main roads, wondering if any passing car could be Warren coming to take her back to her prison."

"Yeah," she agreed, sucking in a deep breath, then letting it shudder out.

"You're safe now," I assured her. "Hence the extra guard. Even when I'm not here, someone will be one call away. But I still think…"

"That we should stay out of sight," she filled in for me.

"I trust my men," I assured her. "But… I do have neighbors. And who the hell knows what they might tell someone who comes asking questions. Like I said, the backyard is safe. I just wouldn't go taking any walks kind of thing. At least until my Family figures out what to do about Warren."

"Do you… do you think you're going to do anything… permanent about Warren?" she asked.

"I can't say. We're really just in the fact-finding part right now. We didn't know who Warren really was until today when we found out Warren is his middle name."

"His… oh," she said, brows pinching.

"You didn't even know?"

"No. He introduced himself as Warren. I didn't think to look into him."

"But I could, uh, give you guys information about his guards or his house, if that is helpful."

"It might be," I said. "I will let you know. But for right now, just focus on… settling in. Decompressing. Here," I said, bringing her a cup of coffee. "How much of a headache you think this crib is going to give me?" I asked, looking at the box.

"If I were you, I think I'd be more worried about that," she said, pointing to the other big box. "What is that, exactly?"

"It's a hybrid high chair," I told her. "You can move a few pieces, and use it as a safe stool, so a toddler can stand at the counter and help you cook or decorate cookies or whatever. Figured it made more sense to have something that served more than one purpose."

"I'm afraid I'll be of no help with those. I once spent six hours trying to put together a dresser from IKEA. Ended up sitting on the floor crying," she admitted, shaking her head at herself. "I will offer moral support while I do laundry," she said, piling up Judah's things.

With that, we broke apart to work on our separate tasks while Judah napped on the couch with a bunch of dining chairs to create a makeshift crib.

I dragged the crib upstairs to the room she chose, working on putting the thing together as she washed and dried the baby clothes.

By the time she brought them up to put them in the dresser, I had the thing together.

"I like this one," she said, running her hand over the walnut polished ‘turned wood' decorative spindles that were in each corner. "His other crib was white. I prefer the real wood look," she said. "I love these too," she said, turning to grab the bedding.

Blue sheets and a big crib blanket with a quilted mountain scene, complete with moose, bears, and a raccoon.

"Warren preferred all things white and minimal. I had to fight for Judah to have any color in his life."

"He can have as much color as he wants now," I assured her.

Her gaze slid to me, those brown eyes full of emotion.

"Thank you, Aurelio," she said, giving me a nod as she tried to blink the tears away. "For everything. I'll never be able to make it u—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there," I cut her off. "You don't need to thank me. I'm happy to help. Uh-oh," I said when Judah started to cry. "Better get to work on his high chair before it's time to make dinner," I said, getting a smile out of her before she rushed off to grab her son.

I walked out sometime later, finding her cuddling and calming Judah, swaying in the living room. And, fuck, there was that gut punch again.

That feeling like everything I ever wanted was right there in front of me.

But that was fucking ridiculous.

So I forced myself to walk away.

She wasn't mine.

Neither was Judah.

I needed to get a damn grip.