Hold Fast - Part Sixteen
This episode is part of a larger story, Soft Touch. If you haven’t yet, you can go back and read it from the beginning right here.
For a moment nothing happens.
It’s impossible to see anything through the smoked windows of the SUV, but I get the distinct impression that we’re all being watched. Except for Maggie, who can’t be seen because Shawn just stepped out in front of her, and Ralph just stepped out in front of all of us.
He stands there motionless, waiting silently in the rainy purple dusk that’s slowly falling over the harbor. Illuminated in the headlights, his hands in the pockets of his jacket.
I always forget how immensely intimidating he looks in Warlord mode. Especially with Bruce and Nigel sprawled on the ground at his feet, frozen in terror, staring at the car.
Both front doors suddenly swing open. Two men in dark, well-cut suits get out of the SUV. Startling me out of my daze, because – I mean – wow.
They’re both strikingly handsome. One in a blonde and rosy-cheeked kind of way, the other in a dark eyes and long dark lashes kind of way. Both of them would graduate with flying colors from hunk training camp. Their suits only add to the effect, being quietly expensive in a way noticeable even through the mist and rain and from several yards back. Together they look like a vintage Brioni advertisement, the picture of understated elegance.
The blonde one opens the back door of the SUV, then steps back to let someone out.
I guess Francesco doesn’t wear his stilettos while he’s working, because an impossibly elegant men’s shoe lightly touches down on the wet pavement.
Bruce drags in a sharp breath, and Nigel’s face drains of all color.
A tall, lithe figure rises gracefully out of the car, then stops beside it, facing Ralph.
Ralph called him crime world royalty, and there really is an indefinable air of royalty in the way he holds himself. The way he looks at us. I thought Maggie carried herself like an empress, but Francesco Caterina could put us all to shame.
He’s of a slight build, but with an enormous presence. Beautifully groomed, incredibly self-possessed, wearing an impeccable dark charcoal suit cut from fabric that radiates luxury. He’s worn a silky, completely sheer sea-green shirt beneath it, and left it unbuttoned a little way down his chest. It has a hand-painted pattern in brushed oasis colors, one that shimmers subtly in the dancing harbor lights and the rain.
He has a small, single earring dangling from one ear, heavy rings spread across his slender fingers, and several necklaces at different lengths hanging from his neck, the most noticeable one being a golden coin with something glittering embedded in the front.
The gleaming wooden cane in his hand doesn’t seem to be for walking. The elaborate carvings sweep over the top, so it can’t comfortably be leaned on. I can’t say what it is for, then, but my mind lands with inexplicable certainty on weapon.
Unlike Bruce, this man is so undeniably related to Maggie that it’s ridiculous. I can see why Ralph was instantly sure. Francesco has the same rich dark brown hair, and the even darker eyebrows, which in his case match his expertly-done beard. And just under that beard – oh, Jesus. Ralph wasn’t kidding. Someone really, honestly tried to cut Francesco’s throat when he was a teenager. There’s a vicious scar running straight across it, coming to an abrupt stop before it can quite reach halfway.
Even without the scar, something about him just pours off trouble, just like Ralph. At the same time he radiates out unimaginable wealth and nobility, holding himself like a king. Which I guess he is, in a way.
He has sharp, diamond-bright, almost fox-like eyes. Glinting at us through the rain like two cut emeralds.
Aiden and I just stand there, staring at him in speechless silence. All of us do, except for Ralph. Even the Warlord’s Boys hanging out further down the platform have fallen silent. They’re watching with wide eyes. Maggie is peeking out from behind Shawn for a look. I can’t see her face, but I hear her draw in a sharp little breath.
Francesco stands there for a moment, then smiles at Ralph.
He saunters around his blonde bodyguard, absent-mindedly reaching up to pinch his cheek as he goes past. The blonde bodyguard instantly blushes, his face lighting up. The dark-haired one scowls, then closes the car door a little harder than strictly necessary. But they both snap back to perfectly impartial expressions as they fall in at Francesco’s right and left shoulder.
Bruce and Nigel flinch as Francesco draws closer, but evidently there was no reason to. Completing ignoring the two drenched, shivering men sprawled on the pavement, Francesco goes straight to Ralph, smiling like he was just presented with a delightful gift.
I blink in surprise when he speaks, thrown off by his voice. Whoever attempted to cut his throat seems to have damaged his vocal cords instead. It’s a soft, rasping, half-whisper of a voice, almost a hiss, and sometimes there’s a pause in the middle of his words as he gathers more of it back to himself.
“Warlord…” he purrs, elegantly extending his hand. “What felicity it is… to have our paths… cross again.”
Ralph hesitates, glancing down at the limp-wristed hand reached out to him.
I suddenly find myself struggling to suppress a laugh. Ralph is so obviously thrown off already. Francesco held out his hand like he’s expecting Ralph to kiss it, and Ralph is clearly uncertain about what exactly he should do with a hand held out to him this way by another man.
A flicker of laughter moves behind Francesco’s eyes as Ralph takes his ringed fingers, gives them a quick shake instead, and gruffly clears his throat.
“Francesco,” he says flatly, by way of greeting.
Francesco suavely lowers his hand, then glances at the cluster of Ralph’s people hanging out further off down the platform, one of his eyebrows quirking up in amusement.
“Well, well, the wolves are out tonight,” he laughs softly, then drops his gaze to Tycho. “In the literal sense, too? I had heard that you were… raising them, Warlord, but I thought… it was mere rumor.”
“She doesn’t bite,” Ralph says, with a cold smile.
“Then she’s better behaved than me,” Francesco purrs.
Ralph blinks, then lets out a weary sigh, shaking his head. “At least you didn’t wear the high heels to come see me this time. Or a dress.”
“No, not while I’m… working,” Francesco’s soft, amused voice answers. “Unless I’m going to be in your office, Warlord. In that case I’ll make an… exception.”
Ralph narrows his eyes at Francesco, and I’m abruptly reminded – mostly by the way the two of them are looking at each other – that they’re opponents in this game. Natural enemies. Despite the casual conversation Francesco and Ralph are tensed, poised to move fast, as if both of them suspect an ambush. The Warlord’s Boys are discreetly keeping a very close eye on this conversation, and I suddenly feel sure that the two men behind Francesco are by no means the only members of the Seven Arms strategically placed around us.
It’s easy to forget, because Ralph looks as calm and vaguely bored as he ever does when he’s working, and Francesco looks faintly amused, like he’s having a good time. There’s a subtle smile hovering around his lips.
“My dearest Warlord, your operation has… expanded,” he hisses softly, letting his emerald eyes rest on the Warlord’s Boys watching this. “And they are not all boys anymore, I see. Permit me to suggest that the better term may be… the Warlord’s Wolves?”
“Don’t you go assigning my people names,” Ralph growls. “Everything you say sticks. It’s my business, anyways. It’s of no interest to you.”
“Oh…” Francesco smiles up at Ralph through his lashes, his fingers laced on the top of his cane. “On the contrary. It’s of great interest to me.”
One of his bejeweled hands reaches out to stroke Tycho’s silky white ear – without any apparent fear of being bitten – but his eyes don’t break away from Ralph’s.
Ralph shifts uncomfortably to his other foot before he regains his usual flat, cold stare.
“Now, then, Warlord…” Francesco murmurs, putting his head to one side. “I believe there was someone you… wanted me to meet?”
Ralph looks over his shoulder at Maggie, then beckons her forward with a slight toss of his head.
Maggie has been standing there in amazed silence, taking in every detail of Francesco’s look, her emerald eyes turned enormous with admiration. At the gesture from Ralph she steps around Shawn, then slowly draws forward until she stops in front of Francesco. She gazes up at him uncertainly, suddenly shy.
Something surprising happens in Francesco’s eyes. The amused, sly smile flickers, then drops away to reveal a glimmer of something deeper, something much more heartfelt as he gazes down into Maggie’s face.
He lifts one hand from the ornate cane and gently takes her chin in his fingers. They look into each other’s eyes, seeing the exact same shade of emerald there.
“Is this my little niece?” Francesco rasps quietly.
Maggie recovers enough to break into a bright, glowing smile. “You are my uncle?”
He stares at her in silence for another moment.
“You’re… most certainly a Caterina,” he answers softly, then releases her chin and holds out his hand. “I know one when I see one. But I do not underestimate the Warlord’s ingenuity, so I would… prefer to check that you’re the right one.”
Maggie looks down at his waiting hand, then automatically places hers into it. “How can you check? Ralph says we have never met before.”
“He wouldn’t know, little one, but we have met,” Francesco answers, closing his fingers around Maggie’s. “Once. I came to see your mother. We weren’t supposed to be in the same place, for, ah… safety reasons… but I wanted to meet you, and your father. I was there for one night. You must have been, oh… between one and two years old.”
He gently turns her hand over as he speaks.
“I put a ring with a diamond on your finger. You were tottering around, and you fell down and… cut yourself on it…”
He fades off, gazing down at a small white scar just on the inside of Maggie’s index finger. He stares at it for a few seconds, holding perfectly still, then lifts his gaze to meet hers.
“My god,” he breathes softly, half-laughing, his emerald eyes very wide. “Margarida… it really is you.”
Maggie looks uncertain about what’s all going on right now, but she bestows a beaming smile upon Francesco, excited nonetheless.
Bruce and Nigel have been sitting motionless on the pavement, frozen in terror all this time. Once or twice I saw them darting wild looks around, considering making a break for it, but Francesco’s powerfully-built bodyguards are standing close enough that any such attempt would be an obvious mistake.
Now Bruce finally finds his voice again, and shouts desperately -
“You don’t even want her! The little bitch is crazy, uncontrollable! I was doing you a favor! She’s got the devil in her, she’ll claw your eyes out if you piss her off, not to mention she’s a pyromaniac, she’s responsible for – that!”
He jerks his hand in the direction of the ocean. Francesco turns his head to look at Bruce and Nigel’s boat, which has been quietly burning into oblivion all this time. Hearty red flames are glowing from within the windows. Thick smoke is pouring up into the sky from multiple places. As we watch, something in the engine gently explodes, tossing a piece of siding up into the air. It arches up high, then drops down to land in the ocean with a sharp hiss.
Francesco turns back to Maggie, pointing to the boat. “Is it true, Margarida? Was that you?”
Maggie answers with a sheepish shrug of her shoulders, twisting her fingertips together. Francesco lets out a sigh of pure adoration, beaming down at her.
“Just like your mother,” he murmurs, affectionately pinching her cheek.
Maggie blinks in surprise, then slowly lights up, giving him back his delighted smile. Without warning, she flings her arms around him and gives him a tight hug, her cheek pressed to his chest.
Based on how Francesco’s bodyguards both give a jolt, looking extremely startled – and how Francesco himself does the same – this isn’t something that happens to him very often.
He holds very still, then folds a slender arm around her and gives her a gentle squeeze.
“I trust… that the Warlord and his people treated you… well?” he hisses softly.
“You mean Ralph?” Maggie draws back, still smiling brightly. “Ah, yes! He was very nice. And his friends were very good to me. They helped me, even when he shot at me with his shotgun.”
She accompanies this last part with a pointing finger aimed at the person she’s talking about. Francesco pauses, then very slowly turns his emerald gaze on Bruce.
“Shot at you,” he repeats, in a very different voice.
An expression as cold as deep space comes into his eyes, so truly frightening that I take an instinctive step back behind Aiden. He could give Ralph a run for his money, so far as bone-chilling smiles go.
The instant Bruce sees it, he decides to risk the bodyguards and bolt. He scrambles to his feet and throws himself past them with the adrenaline of a bunny in close proximity to a fox.
I so completely can’t believe what follows that I seem to see it in slow motion. Ralph, swiftly drawing a pistol with a silencer from beneath his jacket. Flicking off the safety as he raises it.
Barely even blinking an eye as he takes aim, then shoots Bruce in the back.
I turn my shell-shocked eyes to Bruce, my hands flying up over my mouth in disbelief as he lets out a sharp grunt and crumples to the ground. But there’s no blood at all. Bruce rolls onto his side and groans in pain, but there’s no visible wound to speak of.
Francesco lets out a soft, rasping laugh of amusement as he turns back to Ralph, who’s still standing there with the pistol half-raised.
“Rubber composite bullets, Warlord?” he purrs. “Through a suppressor, too? How wonderfully, ah – gentle.”
Ralph uses the pistol to gesture to Bruce.
“I wouldn’t want to rob you of the fun of this reunion,” he explains, his trademark ironic coldness glinting in his sage eyes.
Francesco smiles, then turns back to Bruce as the blonde bodyguard tosses him back down next to Nigel.
Francesco slowly saunters over to them, then uses his cane to tilt Bruce’s face up towards him.
“So, is this… my charming brother-in-law?” he rasps silkily, smiling down at Bruce, the coldness in his eyes reaching sub-zero temperatures. “What bliss it is to finally… make your acquaintance. I’ve heard so much about you from my dear departed sister. My beloved, only sister.”
He leans down closer to Bruce, smiling even wider.
“I’ll confess I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, most eagerly… for years,” he purrs softly. “I’m sure I’ve missed out on so much, going without the pleasure of your… company, for so long. But now we can… make up for lost time.”
Bruce sits there frozen in terror, then blinks as Francesco straightens up, and says to the bodyguards – “Put him in the trunk.”
“No, wait – wait!” Bruce shrieks desperately. The blonde bodyguard zip-ties his hands, then picks him up with the ease of a bouncer removing the smallest teenager to sneak into the bar. “No – Maggie! Tell him to let me go! I raised you your whole life, you owe me – Maggie!”
Maggie is watching curiously, and – from the expression on her face – immensely enjoying herself. She casts an inquiring look at Francesco, arching a dark eyebrow.
“Are you going to kill him, Uncle Francesco?”
“Kill him?” Francesco asks, surprised, then slightly reproachful. “Just kill him, after all that he’s-? No, my sweet. I have more imagination than that.”
Maggie shrugs her shoulders, lets out a little laugh as Bruce is unceremoniously stuffed in the trunk. “Okay.”
Francesco turns an eye on Nigel, who’s starting to inch towards the edge of the harbor platform, clearly hoping he might be able to throw himself into the water and swim out of here. He stops when he realizes that Tycho has placed herself firmly in his path.
“And who is this, crawling away?” Francesco asks. “And what… oh – oh.”
His emerald eyes open very wide as he gets an eyeful of The Shirt. He puts a hand to his heart and draws back, with the expression of someone who just witnessed sacrilege in church on a Sunday.
“My god,” he sputters, then turns to Ralph indignantly. “You did this… to offend me?”
“What? No. I’m not even sure why you’re offended-” Ralph shrugs in confusion as Francesco gestures forcefully at Nigel’s shirt. “Okay, whatever. Point is, that’s the getaway boat driver.”
Francesco brightens perceptibly. “Really?”
“No, he’s lying, he’s fucking lying!” Nigel shouts wildly.
Faith retreats a step back at the sound of his roaring voice, shuddering, holding Robin’s hand tightly. She closes her eyes and gives herself a shake, like she’s trying to brush off bad memories.
“I got nothing to do with this!” Nigel bellows. “I don’t even know what the fuck you’re-”
“Bruce will confirm it,” Ralph tells Francesco. He touches his fingers to the barrel of his pistol to see how hot it still is, then tucks it back into his jacket. “I’m sure he’ll have no problem throwing Nigel to the dogs, being the kind of man he is.”
“Mm.” Francesco smiles coldly down at Nigel, then beckons to his dark-haired bodyguard. “Denver, add this one to the trunk, won’t you?”
“No, wait, wait!” Nigel roars, wrenching his arm free from Denver’s grasp, then failing to do it again when the blonde bodyguard steps in to catch it. He turns his wild eyes on Faith. “For fuck’s sake, do something! You can’t let them do this to me, you can’t! You’re my son!”
Faith, who had just started to dart forward and open her mouth, stops where she is, staring at Nigel in silence, pale in the face. Two little flames spark up and begin to shine in her eyes, the same hint of mounting rebellion I saw back on Moondancer.
The blonde bodyguard glances between Faith and Nigel, narrowing his eyes in bewilderment.
“Your son?” he asks doubtfully, eyeing Faith.
“Hm.” Francesco shakes his head regretfully at Nigel, then turns to his bodyguard, tapping his temple. “It seems this poor man is… not well, in his mind.”
“No!” Nigel explodes, but Francesco holds up a silencing hand.
“Quiet, now,” he says softly, with his icy smile. “You are sadly unwell. I must beg you to rest, so you… don’t make your condition worse.” His eyes flick over to Denver. “Knock him out for the ride, won’t you?”
Nigel suddenly erupts into a last-ditch attempt to fight his way out of his situation. There’s a flurry of fists and a shout of effort, during which Francesco’s bodyguards thoroughly disprove my suspicion that they were chosen based purely on their looks. Nothing about the way they handle this outburst even remotely suggests that it cost them any effort. With swift, efficient expertise they fold Nigel in half like a lawn chair, then carry him off to join Bruce, who’s screaming and banging his bound fists on the window of the trunk.
“I have a kid!” Nigel shouts frantically to Francesco, tossing his head at Faith. “I have a family!”
Francesco frowns at him, clearly puzzled about why this matters, then glances at Faith. “Do you have… some objection to us taking him?”
She hesitates, biting her lip, then very slowly shakes her head no.
Nigel stares at her in disbelief, lets out an incoherent roar of stunned outrage, and disappears from view as Denver shoves him firmly into the trunk.
There must be more of the Seven Arms in the SUV, because the engine switches on with a smooth hum.
Faith is still standing a few feet ahead of the rest of us, her fingers laced over her mouth, her dark brown eyes very wide. She startles when Maggie happily nudges her elbow.
“Now everything is how it should be with those two, yes?” she giggles enthusiastically, catching Faith’s eye.
Faith nods, catching the smile from Maggie as the SUV pulls away. “I – I don’t know what’s going on, exactly, but I think so. Yes.”
Robin pulls Faith back into her arms and kisses the top of her head, beaming in proud delight. Ralph opens his mouth to say something to Francesco, then pauses as one of his Wolves comes trotting up to join us.
“Hey, boss – there’s an angry-lookin’ guy over there who wants to talk to you. Asked for you by name.”
Ralph turns to stare in confusion at a very pissed-off guy in a pale pink polo and large white sunglasses. He’s complaining loudly to the Wolves blocking his way, much to their entertainment.
“What the fuck…?” Ralph murmurs, his blonde eyebrows furrowing. “Send him over.”
The guy is brought over to us, casting harassed looks over his shoulder at the two Wolves escorting him. He has a piece of paper in his sunburned hand, which he holds up as he gets closer.
“Hey!” he snaps sharply, striding up to us. “Are you Ralph?”
Ralph stares hard at him, trying to work out if they know each other. “Who’s asking?”
The guy thrusts the paper in Ralph’s face. “Your friend stole my fucking Sea-Doo, bro! Both of them!”
Ralph blinks a few times, then takes the note from him. Aiden and I lean over his shoulder to read it.
hey I had to borow your sea doo but dont worry about it, its for a good cause
I am NOT stealing it just borowing it and I got a baby so have some cunpassion and dont press charges I’ll bring it right back
If you have any questiennes talk to Ralph – tall blond serly-looking guy on the platt form he’ll sort everything out! Love u! :)
“Oh my god,” Ralph mutters, his sage eyes very wide.
“Yeah, wow,” I stammer, fighting back a laugh. “I never realized how much work autocorrect was doing for Noah.”
Francesco, who clearly has little interest in what’s going on with the Sea-Doo, has instead taken a visible interest in me and Aiden. I think he only just noticed us, what with everything going on.
He’s looking back and forth between me and Aiden like he can’t decide who he wants to rest his eyes on.
“My, my,” he breathes, as if someone just put a beautiful painting down in front of him. He comes closer, smiling at me, then up at Aiden. “Friends of yours, Warlord?”
“Hey,” Aiden says nervously.
Francesco stops still, blinking up at Aiden, then puts a hand over his heart.
“Oh,” his hoarse, rasping voice murmurs, his long lashes batting up at Aiden. “I do so love a rich voice… it’s perhaps my… greatest weakness. Yours is… exceptional.”
Aiden blushes crimson, then looks down at me. I’m blushing, too. Francesco’s emerald eyes have now stopped on me, glinting with undisguised admiration.
“Red as fire,” he purrs, letting his gaze linger on my hair, then slowly drop to meet mine. “One could almost… feel the heat.”
I blush deeper, nervously twisting the malachite necklace in my fingers, not sure what to say. Francesco gives me a devastatingly handsome smile, very unlike the smile he gave Bruce and Nigel.
“Excuse me,” the Sea-Doo owner begins angrily. “I had my Sea-Doo stolen, doesn’t anyone-?”
Francesco looks to Ralph, fluttering a hand at me and Aiden. “Who are they?”
“None of your-”
“Aiden is Ralph’s big brother,” Maggie helpfully explains, looking up at her uncle. “And Jamie is Aiden’s boyfriend.”
Ralph winces deeply, dropping his head, and Francesco breaks into a smile verging on a grin.
“Why, you’re a wealth of information, Margarida,” he purrs, around a little laugh.
“Hey!” snaps the guy in the polo. “Just what the fuck is going on here? You people think it’s fine to just steal someone’s property? I should call the cops right fucking now, but first you’re giving me back my Sea-Doo-”
He breaks off as Maggie turns an exasperated frown on him.
“Chut!” she says imperiously. “You make yourself very tiresome, with all your whimpering. You will have back your – your little watercraft. Now go away and wait for it to be returned, if it is not already.”
The guy pauses, so very surprised by this answer that he’s not sure what to do. He hesitates, glances around for help, and finding none, sheepishly sort of slinks away.
Francesco watches all this in silence, but at the man’s bewildered retreat he lets out a soft, rasping laugh. “You are quite… impertinent, child.”
Maggie turns back to Francesco, smiling happily. “No, not me!”
Francesco takes her hand, drawing her over to him. “You will come and live with me now.”
“Yes,” Maggie agrees, in a tone like – naturally.
Francesco looks up at Faith, who’s still hovering a few feet behind Maggie. “Who is this, may I ask? The raving getaway driver’s daughter?”
“Yes, but she helped me! She hid me when that man with The Shirt chased me. And that is her fiancée, Robin. She helped me, too.”
“Is that so?” Francesco inclines his head at Faith and Robin. “Then it seems I am… in your debt. Is there… some way I can… make my appreciation known?”
Faith timidly begins to shake her head, struggling to find her voice. “Oh, you – you’ve already helped us so much more than you could ever-”
“Faith!” Robin jumps in urgently, seizing her hand. She holds up a finger at Francesco, pulling Faith to her. “Give us one second, please?”
Francesco shrugs, withdraws an elegant fan of amethyst-colored silk from his suit jacket, and begins languidly fanning his face. Robin and Faith lapse into a hushed, confidential conversation, but I catch little snatches of it.
“-don’t want to ask, after he already just did us the biggest possible favor-”
“He’s offering,” Robin insists.
Maggie, who’s wandered closer to them, taps Faith’s shoulder. “What is it?”
Faith hesitates, then looks meekly at Francesco. “I… I don’t know what could be done about it, but I work at a bakery, and it got bought out, um – by this man who doesn’t really understand it. He’s practically taking it apart.”
Francesco arches an eyebrow.
“A bakery?” he repeats, in his hoarse, hissing voice.
It’s a strangely funny word to hear coming from someone who looks so incredibly intimidating.
“Yeah, um – he’s making the place look really bland, and throwing out a lot of our recipes. Undoing all the work we put in to make it as nice as it is, then not listening when we tell him why we’re losing so much business…”
Faith trails off, looking like she honestly doesn’t know what she’s doing right now, telling him this.
Francesco ponders that for a moment, then turns to Maggie.
“Would you like a bakery, Margarida? We’ll have to get you prepared to… run a business, regardless, and it’s best to… start small.”
Maggie pauses, startled. “You will buy the bakery? For me?”
Robin’s face lights up. “Yeah, Maggie – you can make it beautiful again! Restore everything the current owner fucked up! You’d be so good at that!”
Faith’s eyes have opened wide with hope, too.
“It’s lovely, I promise!” she tells Maggie breathlessly. “It’s a little bakery and ice-cream parlor, not too far from the harbor. We get a lot of sailors. The place is called Angel Cake. The building is old, historic!”
“But it would mean you have to come back here, to Port Sitka… with some regularity,” Francesco warns Maggie. “Would you mind that?”
Maggie’s eyes flit to the dock, where Christian’s boat just pulled in again, Moondancer in tow. Kaden just climbed out of Moondancer and onto the dock. He’s leaning against his cane, carefully and gently setting something down. Maggie’s backpack, which he must have retrieved from below decks for her.
“No,” Maggie says, watching Kaden. “I wouldn’t mind that.”
Francesco nods briskly, tucking his silk fan away. “Done, then. I’ll have it arranged.”
Faith stares at him in disbelief, Robin breaks into a beaming grin, and Maggie clasps her hands in delight.
“Oh, I have to tell Kaden!” she says eagerly, taking a step toward the dock.
“There’s something that needs doing first,” Francesco says in his soft voice, gently catching Maggie’s arm. He beckons to Denver, who steps forward and gives him a slender velvet box. “There’s something you should have, as a Caterina… and especially as your mother’s daughter.”
He opens the box, and Maggie draws in a sharp breath.
Nestled on the luxurious velvet padding is a golden necklace with a golden coin, a perfect match to the one hanging from Francesco’s neck. There’s a single, faultless emerald embedded in the center, glittering in the misty dusk light.
Maggie stares at it in amazement, then lifts her dazzled eyes to Francesco. “This is for me?”
Francesco places the box back in Denver’s hands, draws the necklace out of it, and fastens it around Maggie’s neck. “Your mother would want you… to have it.”
She’s not wearing another necklace, presumably having had no time to make a choice from her collection today. She touches her fingertips to the golden coin, then looks up at Francesco with a radiant smile on her face.
She flings her arms around him and gives him another tight hug, once again deeply startling both him and his bodyguards. Then she goes rushing down the dock towards Christian’s boat. Denver immediately follows, keeping an eye on her from afar.
“Kaden!” she calls brightly, breathlessly, raising a hand in the air to wave at him.
He was talking to Kendrick, but he turns around and freezes when he spots her rushing towards him. He smiles, starts to say something, then nearly goes stumbling backwards when she excitedly throws her arms around him. He catches himself at the last second by jamming his cane into one of the slats of the dock.
A vivid heat glow springs into his cheeks as Maggie straightens up in his arms, then beams up into his face, laughingly saying something.
Francesco watches her laughing happily for a moment, then looks at Ralph, who’s barely keeping the satisfied expression out of his grey-green eyes.
“Ralph,” Francesco purrs, coming over to stand before him. “Here I thought this was… a trap. I have a sniper on you, now I feel bad! Jade…” He turns to catch the blonde bodyguard’s eye. “Tell Sabine we don’t need her, won’t you?”
Jade begins murmuring into his sleeve. Francesco turns back to Ralph, who seems remarkably unperturbed by that piece of information, to the point that I wonder if he already knew.
“You promised to deliver all this to me, and you… really did it?” Francesco shakes his head, smiling with his heavy-lidded eyes at Ralph, his long lashes fluttering seductively. “I do wonder in what… other avenues you possess such… remarkable aptitude. Where else you might… rise to the level of an artist.”
Ralph pulls an exasperated face, and Francesco laughs softly.
“But I am… still waiting for the ask.”
“There is no ask,” Ralph says, stroking Tycho’s ear. “Although if you were so inclined, you might see this as the beginning of a nice long stretch of official peace between my people and the Seven Arms.”
Francesco blinks, for the first time thrown off by something Ralph said.
“An unprovoked gesture of peace from the Warlord?” he asks, narrowing his emerald eyes. “My dearest Ralph, you overwhelm me… am I really supposed to believe that?”
“Yes,” Ralph says flatly. “So there’s no need for you to sneakily start putting down footholds in my territory. Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing there.”
Francesco puts a hand to his chest, all innocent. “A bakery for my niece!”
“Yeah, mhm,” Ralph says skeptically. “Run under your supervision, of course. That’s just like you, to jump on that opportunity.”
Francesco smiles, then pauses, narrowing his eyes.
“You’re serious?” he asks, his soft voice full of surprise.
“I am.”
Francesco stands still for a moment, regarding Ralph thoughtfully.
“You told me once that you are not on my side, Warlord,” he hisses softly. “I remember answering that I… didn’t believe you. Was I right, after all?”
“No,” Ralph says firmly. “Call it a good business decision.”
“Mmm. Yes, it’s that, too.” Francesco’s voice picks up the rasping purr again. “Have you considered that I… may be right about other things I’ve suggested? After all… surely you see now how lovely things can be when my desires… and your desires… merge.”
“Here we go,” Ralph grumbles.
Francesco playfully pouts at him, eating him up with his eyes. “Is it fair that you should get to overwhelm me, and I’m given no opportunity to see if I can’t… overwhelm you?”
“You get altogether too much fun out of making me nervous,” Ralph tells him irritably.
A flickering smile goes over Francesco’s face, more genuine than the usual one.
“There will have to be a celebration for Margarida’s debut, of course. You will come? And…” His emerald eyes flick to me and Aiden, linger there, then come back to Ralph. “You will bring your friends? I won’t… hear otherwise.”
Ralph gives his shoulders a slight shrug, and Francesco smiles as if that counts as enthusiastic acceptance.
“A true pleasure to see you, Warlord,” he purrs, holding out his ringed hand again. “I do… so look forward to the next time our paths cross.”
Ralph returns that elaborate farewell with a very slight inclination of his head, then awkwardly, brusquely shakes Francesco’s hand like he did last time. Francesco bites back a laugh, then turns as Maggie comes bounding back over to us. Kaden is trailing after her, staring at her uncle with awed eyes.
“We’re leaving, little one,” Francesco tells Maggie. “We’ll have a busy day tomorrow. We’ll have to take you shopping for clothes, and for… all the – the – whatever else girls need.”
He shoots a questioning glance at Jade, who shrugs his shoulders uncertainly. Denver shakes his head, also drawing a blank.
“Sabine probably knows,” he offers.
“I know,” Maggie giggles, then spins around to face us. She gives Faith a tight hug, then takes my hand and Robin’s, smiling up at Aiden and Ralph. “Thank you all for your help! I will see you soon, yes? You will come to my bakery and order things.”
“It – sounds like we’ll see you even before that!” I tell her, struggling to wrap my head around everything that’s happened. “Your uncle said he’s throwing you a party!”
“Oh, yes!” she says eagerly, spinning to face him. “Really, Uncle? A party? For me?”
“Yes, sweetheart, but we’ll talk about that… later. We have a lot to catch up on.”
Maggie nods happily, then steps aside to say goodbye to Kaden. Francesco looks up as a new, equally sleek black car comes gliding out onto the platform from the deliveries area.
“Call the hotel,” he says quietly to Jade. “Tell them… we’ll need dinner reservations at the bistro, rooms for everyone, and two premier suites. One for Margarida, one for me and…”
He trails off, thinking.
Jade and Denver both suddenly perk up, staring at Francesco with matching expressions on their faces. Ones that powerfully call to mind the look on Tycho’s face when she hears a treat bag crinkle, and feels the need to remind us that she’s a very good dog.
“Mmm…” Francesco gives his shoulders a little shrug. “Denver.”
Denver’s gorgeous eyes light up, and Jade’s face falls.
“But-” he begins, sounding agonized, then turns a dark scowl on Denver, dropping his voice to a furious whisper. “This whole week it’s been you!”
“It’s only been two days, and it’s not my fault that you bored him last time!” Denver hisses back.
Jade’s cheeks color up. He turns to Francesco with desperate eyes.
“I can do better!” he whispers imploringly, I think not realizing that Aiden and I are close enough to hear him. “If you just let me try again!”
I glance up at Aiden, then quickly glance away again. I’m struggling to fight back a laugh, and the laughter in Aiden’s eyes makes it significantly harder.
“Well, at least we know that Francesco’s men are – dedicated,” Aiden whispers, making it harder still.
The driver of the new car gets out to see what’s going on. Another arrival from hunk training camp, this one with long black locs swept into a bun, eyes and skin the color of dark honey. I’d be hard-pressed to say which of these three men is the most good-looking.
The newcomer raises an eyebrow, seeing Denver and Jade having their whispered argument.
“All this complaining,” Francesco sighs wearily. “Dameon, you’ll stay in my room tonight. These two… need time to cultivate some dignity.”
The man who just got out of the car breaks into a breathless smile, radiating unspeakable delight. Denver and Jade, on the other hand, both promptly look like they want to die. They stand still for a second, then rush into action to redeem themselves. Denver sweeps open the car doors for Maggie and Francesco, and Jade springs forward to take Francesco’s ornate cane as he holds it out.
“What are you talking about, Uncle?” Maggie asks curiously, having missed most of that conversation.
She’s pulling her sleeve down over Kaden’s phone number, which is written on her wrist. She didn’t give him his jacket back, I notice. I suspect he didn’t ask for it.
“Never you mind, my dear.” Francesco affectionately draws Maggie up to himself, leading the way to the car. “You’ve had a long day, and you… have been through so much. Right now my only concern is… to take care of you.”
Maggie falls silent, staring up at Francesco. She slowly drops her gaze to the ground, uncharacteristically quiet.
“What can I do…” Francesco asks, “To make you feel better?”
Maggie lets out a quiet, dazed, blissful little laugh. “À ce point? Oh, rien! Rien du tout!”
Francesco must understand her, because he smiles, caught by surprise.
She drops into the back of the car with her backpack, and Francesco gracefully drops into it after her. With a hum of the purring engine, it begins to roll away through the rain. Maggie puts her beaming face to the window and waves goodbye to us.
I wave back and watch her go, half in a daze. I’ve barely moved or said a word all this time, primarily because it was sharply clear that Ralph was the one running the show. But also because so much just happened that I can barely process it all.
The others seem dazed, too, with the sole exception of Ralph. He’s smirking after the disappearing car, a glint of deep professional satisfaction in his eyes.
I look around for the first time in a while. Realizing that the Warlord’s Wolves have quietly dispersed, and a crowd has slowly begun to build back up in the docks. Sailors and dockworkers are drifting back in. The pubs are opening back up, too, and people are starting to take seats at the outdoor patios of the restaurants. The warm orange glow from their windows tints the rainy mist around them. The clouds overhead are scattered, only letting down a light sprinkle of rain. Not quite enough to drive people indoors.
“How did you clear out the whole harbor, Ralph?” I ask weakly.
“There was a small fire in a building storing some hazardous materials. Protocol calls for the harbor to shut down, just to be safe.” Catching the alarmed expression on my face, he adds – “Don’t worry, we took out the hazardous materials before we started the fire. And it looks like the inspectors have cleared it now.”
“Jesus Christ,” I stammer helplessly, rubbing my eyes.
“Let’s see, do we need to handle anything else?” Ralph turns to peer out at the water. “What about Bruce and Nigel’s boat, should we try to salvage-? Oh.”
He stops, having spotted the empty place in the ocean where the burning boat was floating before. All that’s left is a trail of smoke.
“Well, that’s that, I guess.” Ralph turns back to the rest of us, grinning widely. “Man. We fucking did it.”
One by one, our exhausted team breaks into broad grins as it finally sinks in. Robin laughs and puts her arms around Faith. Ralph and Shawn look at each other in silent triumph, and I turn to Aiden, smiling from ear to ear. Kaden seems a little bewildered about what exactly happened, but he’s grinning, too. So are Kendrick, Xavier, Christian, and Demir, who are coming down the dock towards us.
“Alright,” Aiden says firmly, tapping my nose. “If the pubs are open, then you want a frosty dark beer, and I want a frosty iced tea. And I’m fucking starving.”
“Let’s go to Harbor Lights!” Robin says eagerly, catching Faith’s hand. “Everyone is gonna be so happy to see Faith! And we can stay there tonight, since Moondancer…”
“Oh my god, Roo – Moondancer!” Faith’s beaming smile suddenly falls. “That’s what we should have asked Maggie’s uncle for help with! The whole engine probably needs to be fixed, if it can be saved at all!”
“It’s fine,” Robin murmurs, folding an arm around Faith’s shoulders, smiling adoringly down at her. “Don’t worry about it. That’s something replaceable. I’ve got what isn’t right here.”
She stamps a kiss onto Faith’s forehead. Faith bites her lip, then breaks into an irrepressible smile. There’s an exuberant lightness to her steps as she falls in beside Robin. Aiden is exchanging hand slaps of enthusiastic greeting with our rescue crew from Christian’s boat, who are all damp, but glowing and excited after their sail.
Kaden keeps glancing over his shoulder at where Maggie disappeared. Smiling to himself, looking both deeply relieved and wildly nervous.
I lean into Aiden, then look up, hearing footsteps racing towards us down the harbor platform. Ripley and Noah send up a cheer when they see us.
“Yo, they’re all still in one piece!” Noah says brightly to Ripley. “Told you Ralph would make it happen neat!”
Ralph holds up the note that the aggrieved Sea-Doo owner gave him. “Noosh, this note. I forgot how heinous your spelling is, dude.”
Noah beams at Ralph, pleased and flattered. “Hey, thanks, man! I thought I did pretty good.”
Ralph blinks at him. “I said it was heinous.”
“Right.” Noah pauses, his eyebrows drawing together to form a puzzled crease. “Does that not mean what I think it means?”
“It-” Ralph stops, biting his lip, then shakes his head. “Nevermind. Good job.”
Noah exchanges a glowing smile with Ripley, who grins back at him. I look around, realizing that Will is gone again. I’m not sure exactly when he disappeared.
“Will,” I whisper, then blink hard when only a voice answers me.
“Jamie… I’m on the very last of my energy. I don’t dare even take a form. I must go home and rest.”
“Oh, it’s okay! Go home and snuggle Kasey. We’ll be there soon.”
“Is all alright?” the whispering voice answers.
I run my eyes over our ragged, exhausted team, my heart suddenly swelling with fierce affection. Everyone looks so dazed and tired, but so supremely happy, too.
Up ahead of me, a golden rectangle of light appears as Bhavini opens the door of Harbor Lights. She stops still when she sees it was Faith knocking, then lets out a little scream and flings her arms around her. Robin stands behind the two of them, laughing, slumping against the wall in exhaustion.
“Yeah,” I whisper back to Will. “We’re alright, over here.”
Want to leave a comment? I would love it if you did, and you can do so on the Tapas episode!