“She was freezing. I could feel how cold she was. How hungry.”

His throat closed on him. His heart had stuttered in his chest. His woman. The woman who would end the gnawing loneliness. End the hunger for a family of his own. He was a force to be reckoned with. The world he lived in was dark and violent. Unrelenting and unforgiving. He protected the weak. He brought justice to those above justice. One word. One phone call. Life or death. He protected everyone. Yet his woman was freezing. Hungry. In the cold and wet of Chicago. Alone. Unprotected. And she was scared. In Ferraro territory. When their shadows had reached for each other, he felt that as well. Her terrible fear.

He swore under his breath. Hating that moment. Feeling a failure. He would have to leave her there, out in the cold. Alone. Afraid. He’d felt helpless for the first time in his life. He’d started training, like those before him, at the age of two. He’d been trained to believe he was powerful. Strong. Intelligent. He moved where others couldn’t, in a world of shadows. Silent. Deadly. Invincible. His woman was cold and hungry. What good was his training? What good was he?

“I did what I could, but she’s in trouble.”

“Giovanni won’t let anything happen to her,” Ricco soothed. “He’ll watch over her until this is done. She’s yours, Stefano, but she’s ours as well. She belongs to all of us. You put teams on her. Nothing will happen to her. Let’s just get this done and you can get back to her.”

Stefano looked at his brothers. “I stood there, holding her against the wall, wrapping her up in my coat, the only thing I had to protect her with, to tell the world she was mine and I would hunt down anyone who harmed or attempted to harm her. I looked down at her and knew she is everything I’m not. She deserves a better life than the one I can give her.”

That moment was etched in his mind forever. Burned there. She’d been frightened of him. He couldn’t blame her, but still, he detested that look. At the same time, touching her skin, feeling the silk of her hair . . . Just that. It was all it took to wipe out every ugly thing in his life and give him something beautiful. He hadn’t known beauty really existed until that moment. “She deserves better,” he reiterated aloud.

The air stilled. No one breathed. Ricco exchanged a long look with Vittorio.

“What are you saying?” Vittorio asked, his voice gentle. “Stefano, you can’t walk away from her. You can’t do that.”

“No. I can’t.” Pure regret. No remorse, but definitely regret. “I’m not that good or that strong of a man to let her go. She’s mine. I take what’s mine. She doesn’t know it. Doesn’t want it. Doesn’t want me or anything to do with me.” A trace of amusement crept in. “She deserves better, but she’ll be with me and no one else.”

“We’re hunters,” Ricco said. “She doesn’t stand a chance.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Stefano agreed. “Let’s get this done. You two be visible. The light’s right outside. Ricco, go out first. I’ll slide into the shadow of the doorway just behind you, and Vittorio can follow you out.” He glanced at his watch. “If I get the signal to go, I’ll do the job. Make certain you get your pictures taken and you’re on the security footage of as many cameras as possible.”

Ricco and Vittorio had boarded the plane in Chicago, playing their parts of bored playboys with too much money and time on their hands. They’d raced their cars through the streets to get to the airport to their private hangar, where their jet was already fueled and ready. A couple of paparazzi had followed them, snapping pictures, just as the brothers had intended.

Stefano arrived by helicopter and strode over to them, intercepting them before they could board the plane. They’d appeared to argue long enough to have several pictures of them taken, the big brother giving his younger brothers a lecture. He’d stalked away, shaking his head, back toward the helicopter. Except he hadn’t been the one to go back to the helicopter. For one split second, Ricco and Vittorio had blocked views of Stefano and he’d entered the shadow and his brother Taviano had emerged, dressed exactly as Stefano was dressed. He shoved his dark glasses over his eyes and stalked back to the helicopter while Stefano used the shadows to board the plane.

Always, always, they had alibis. There was never a connection between them and the target. Nothing personal. Still, they lived in that world. Violence. Blood. Death. It was their world. Ricco and Vittorio were seen in public coming and going to the airport. They would be in the clubs all night, openly partying with a couple of movie stars and their friends. As far as anyone knew, no one else had flown with them and they were in Los Angeles to have fun.