Shadow Rider
Page 148
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Barry shifted forward, his brows coming together. “You three designed your engine?”
“Mostly Taviano,” Ricco said. “He’s our ace in the hole.”
Francesca watched Barry’s face closely. His facial expression had frozen, his eyes going killer cold. She shivered and wanted to protest, to do anything to draw attention away from Taviano. Didn’t they all realize they were painting a target in the middle of Taviano’s forehead? Barry didn’t like to be bested, and the Ferraros were winning races. Ricco was an excellent driver. He’d won race after race and more than once he’d left Barry’s car in the dust.
Giovanni glanced at his watch and excused himself, heading for the elevator after brushing a kiss on first Emmanuelle’s forehead and then on Francesca’s. His siblings gave him a brief wave. Barry didn’t even seem to notice. He was frowning at Stefano.
“I had no idea Taviano liked to design and build engines,” Barry said.
Stefano shrugged. “He doesn’t like the spotlight much.”
“It isn’t just me,” Taviano objected modestly. “Vittorio and Emme fixed a few problems for me. Ricco managed to add more power when we thought we were already at max. So it’s a group effort.”
Francesca allowed the talk of the racetrack and cars to flow around her. Stefano and Ricco stayed in charge of the conversation, expertly slipping in a question every now and then and keeping Barry from addressing Francesca. Their siblings followed their lead, providing interesting conversation and asking questions that followed most naturally. None of them seemed as if they were conducting an interrogation, but Francesca was certain they were learning all sorts of things Barry didn’t have a clue they were getting out of their casual conversation.
Taviano served the drinks that Vittorio made, and they kept Barry’s flowing, while they only appeared to be keeping up with him. Francesca nursed the one drink Stefano had insisted she take. She was afraid that if she got a little tipsy, she’d tell Barry just what she thought of him and then she’d go after him with teeth and nails.
Barry liked his alcohol and Vittorio was being generous in mixing his favorite gin and tonic. Within an hour and a half, he was slurring his words and getting a little belligerent toward Stefano and especially her. He kept getting in little digs. Suddenly he went silent for a few minutes while the talk between the brothers and Emmanuelle swirled around him and then he jabbed a finger toward Francesca.
“What?” She couldn’t keep the belligerence out of her voice.
“How’d you like being locked up in the mental hospital?” he challenged with a sneer. “Did they put you in a straitjacket? I would have given anything to see that. Beautiful little perfect Francesca, all wrapped up like a gift. I heard some of those orderlies love to fuck the patients when they’re all tied up like that. That happen to you? Did one of them sneak into your room at night? Maybe you enjoyed it . . .”
Stefano hit him at the same time Ricco did. Hard. The sounds were so loud Francesca cried out. She hadn’t seen Stefano or Ricco move, but they were across the small space and both simultaneously punched Barry on either side of his face. She swore there was an audible crack and then Barry was screaming and throwing wild punches.
Emmanuelle stood up calmly and held out her hand to Francesca. “Let’s go in the other room while the boys are playing.”
She pulled Francesca out of her seat while Francesca stared with horrified eyes at the two brothers beating Barry to a bloody pulp.
“You have to stop them, Emmanuelle.”
“Why in the world would I do that?” She kept tugging determinedly on Francesca’s hand until they were in the kitchen. “Drunk or not, that moron is responsible for what he says. Taunting you like that is totally unacceptable, and doing it in front of my brothers is like waving a red cape at a bull. Seriously stupid. He deserves everything he’s going to get.”
“I don’t want to have to visit my husband in jail. Or any of his brothers. I don’t give a damn what Barry says. He took away my sister. Saying crap to me is nothing. Stefano is only going to make him angry. Really, really angry. Barry Anthon is all about being superior, and pride is everything to him. He’ll retaliate . . .” She broke off, her hand to her mouth. “Oh. My. God. They’re beating the crap out of him, poking sticks at a rattlesnake to stir him up.”
Emmanuelle grinned at her. “They never do that sort of thing without a really good reason. In this case, they had two very good reasons, aside from the fact that it’s going to make them all feel happy, beating up a monster like that. Barry won’t go to the cops because he’ll want to retaliate and he won’t want a record of this.” She glanced at her watch. “Giovanni should be back anytime with a full report on Barry’s rented estate. We’ll have the layout and maybe even an idea of his plans.”
“Mostly Taviano,” Ricco said. “He’s our ace in the hole.”
Francesca watched Barry’s face closely. His facial expression had frozen, his eyes going killer cold. She shivered and wanted to protest, to do anything to draw attention away from Taviano. Didn’t they all realize they were painting a target in the middle of Taviano’s forehead? Barry didn’t like to be bested, and the Ferraros were winning races. Ricco was an excellent driver. He’d won race after race and more than once he’d left Barry’s car in the dust.
Giovanni glanced at his watch and excused himself, heading for the elevator after brushing a kiss on first Emmanuelle’s forehead and then on Francesca’s. His siblings gave him a brief wave. Barry didn’t even seem to notice. He was frowning at Stefano.
“I had no idea Taviano liked to design and build engines,” Barry said.
Stefano shrugged. “He doesn’t like the spotlight much.”
“It isn’t just me,” Taviano objected modestly. “Vittorio and Emme fixed a few problems for me. Ricco managed to add more power when we thought we were already at max. So it’s a group effort.”
Francesca allowed the talk of the racetrack and cars to flow around her. Stefano and Ricco stayed in charge of the conversation, expertly slipping in a question every now and then and keeping Barry from addressing Francesca. Their siblings followed their lead, providing interesting conversation and asking questions that followed most naturally. None of them seemed as if they were conducting an interrogation, but Francesca was certain they were learning all sorts of things Barry didn’t have a clue they were getting out of their casual conversation.
Taviano served the drinks that Vittorio made, and they kept Barry’s flowing, while they only appeared to be keeping up with him. Francesca nursed the one drink Stefano had insisted she take. She was afraid that if she got a little tipsy, she’d tell Barry just what she thought of him and then she’d go after him with teeth and nails.
Barry liked his alcohol and Vittorio was being generous in mixing his favorite gin and tonic. Within an hour and a half, he was slurring his words and getting a little belligerent toward Stefano and especially her. He kept getting in little digs. Suddenly he went silent for a few minutes while the talk between the brothers and Emmanuelle swirled around him and then he jabbed a finger toward Francesca.
“What?” She couldn’t keep the belligerence out of her voice.
“How’d you like being locked up in the mental hospital?” he challenged with a sneer. “Did they put you in a straitjacket? I would have given anything to see that. Beautiful little perfect Francesca, all wrapped up like a gift. I heard some of those orderlies love to fuck the patients when they’re all tied up like that. That happen to you? Did one of them sneak into your room at night? Maybe you enjoyed it . . .”
Stefano hit him at the same time Ricco did. Hard. The sounds were so loud Francesca cried out. She hadn’t seen Stefano or Ricco move, but they were across the small space and both simultaneously punched Barry on either side of his face. She swore there was an audible crack and then Barry was screaming and throwing wild punches.
Emmanuelle stood up calmly and held out her hand to Francesca. “Let’s go in the other room while the boys are playing.”
She pulled Francesca out of her seat while Francesca stared with horrified eyes at the two brothers beating Barry to a bloody pulp.
“You have to stop them, Emmanuelle.”
“Why in the world would I do that?” She kept tugging determinedly on Francesca’s hand until they were in the kitchen. “Drunk or not, that moron is responsible for what he says. Taunting you like that is totally unacceptable, and doing it in front of my brothers is like waving a red cape at a bull. Seriously stupid. He deserves everything he’s going to get.”
“I don’t want to have to visit my husband in jail. Or any of his brothers. I don’t give a damn what Barry says. He took away my sister. Saying crap to me is nothing. Stefano is only going to make him angry. Really, really angry. Barry Anthon is all about being superior, and pride is everything to him. He’ll retaliate . . .” She broke off, her hand to her mouth. “Oh. My. God. They’re beating the crap out of him, poking sticks at a rattlesnake to stir him up.”
Emmanuelle grinned at her. “They never do that sort of thing without a really good reason. In this case, they had two very good reasons, aside from the fact that it’s going to make them all feel happy, beating up a monster like that. Barry won’t go to the cops because he’ll want to retaliate and he won’t want a record of this.” She glanced at her watch. “Giovanni should be back anytime with a full report on Barry’s rented estate. We’ll have the layout and maybe even an idea of his plans.”
