Secrets Of Bella Terra Read Free Page A

faced every day were not the fevered imaginings of some scriptwriter, but real and terrifying.
    Brooke braced herself for the moment when his heated gaze touched her.
    He didn’t seem to notice her sitting in the corner. Didn’t even glance in her direction.
    Even so, the room grew smaller, the air warmer and more concentrated, Brooke’s heartbeat slower, stronger, each throb spreading heat and life and pleasure.
    So many years had passed since she’d seen him for the first time, on her beginning day of the new school, when he plucked her out of the crowd and summoned her with a jerk of his head, and she giggled like . . . like the prepubescent girl she had been and tagged after him like a love-starved puppy.
    Even so many years later, the memory made her wince.
    Today, all the Rafe Di Luca charm was bent on his grandmother.
    “Raffaello, I have been waiting for you.” A trembling smile broke across Sarah’s face, and she extended her good hand.
    Rafe stopped a few feet from the bed and assessed her—the broken arm, the battered face, the IV in her arm—and shook his head with mocking reproval. “Nonna, how many times have I told you not to get in bar fights?”
    For the first time since she’d been attacked, Sarah chuckled. “I learned everything I know about getting in trouble from my grandsons.”
    He lowered the silver rail and leaned close, put his cheek against hers and closed his eyes. “You scared me half to death,” he murmured.
    Sentiment clogged Brooke’s throat.
    No matter what she thought of Rafe, she knew his adoration for his grandmother ran deep and true.
    As he straightened, he smiled at Sarah. “Now—tell me the truth. Why were you in a bar fight?”
    “You should see the other guy.” Sarah smiled back, but no eighty-year-old could have her head bandaged and a cast on her arm without some wear and tear, and the flush of happiness Rafe’s arrival brought quickly faded.
    Rafe saw it, of course. He saw everything. Cradling her hand, he turned to his brothers. “What do we know about the perp?”
    “Not a damned thing.” Noah bit off his words. “Nonna was unconscious probably a half hour, which gave him plenty of time to get away. We think she arrived right after he broke in—or rather, walked in, since she never locks her doors—”
    “Don’t need to,” she said.
    Like male versions of the Fates, the three brothers turned in unison and glared at her.
    “This proves you do, Nonna,” Rafe said.
    She snorted.
    Brooke hid a grin.
    To Noah, Rafe said, “Go on.”
    “We couldn’t see that the perp disturbed anything,” Noah said. “He hid in the cellar, then rushed out, attacked her, and ran away.”
    Rafe’s expression became cold interest. “So he was panicked . . . or he was sent there to attack her.”
    “Who’s going to attack an elderly woman?” Eli ran the winery. He called himself just a farmer. Yes, maybe. But he had also proved to have the Di Luca way with wines, creating reds that consistently ranked in the top ten percent of the reviews. Neither of the other two Di Luca brothers had the nose, the art, the sensibility, and in the circle of the larger Di Luca family, Eli was venerated.
    In this bleak hospital room, of course, he was merely one of the brothers.
    “People do all kinds of heinous things for money, for fun.” All too obviously, Rafe knew what he was talking about. “Did you see him, Nonna?”
    She shook her head, and winced. “No. Ski mask. But definitely a big man, white, tall, fit, young. Of course, at my age I think everyone’s young.”
    “At your height, you think everyone’s tall, too,” Eli said.
    “Eliseo, come over here so I can swat you.” But Sarah was smiling again, and when Eli leaned over the other side of the bed, she gave him a mocking sock to the chin.
    “Good point, Eli. Was he as tall as me, Nonna?” Rafe asked.
    “No.” She sighed. “I’d say six-foot or a little below.”
    “Oh, good. That narrows it down to about