The Fall Of Jacob Del Garda (25 page)

Nico's big body vibrated against her back as he laughed.

"Rosie will be home soon. It is your own fault. You were the one who thought getting the family together was a good idea."

She leaned back against his hard body and huffed out a breath.

"That'll teach me."

Then she dipped her head to let him nuzzle the sensitive spot under her ear.

She was just about to tell him she loved him when her cell vibrated in her pocket.

Checking the sender,
Sweet Sensations
, Bronte frowned, pressed the green button and took the call.

"Hi Lucy, what's up?"

Normally, everything was so organised in Bronte's wedding cake business that things went pretty smoothly. Not today. Their best pastry chef had been hit with a stomach virus and sent home. They needed an expert to assemble a four tier cake in-situ at Ludlow Hall for a late afternoon wedding reception. Lucy couldn't do it because she had a cake tasting, unless Janine was available to do the tasting, then Lucy would rush to The Hall.

But Bronte knew that Janine was in no fit state to meet potential clients.

"No worries. I'll do it," Bronte said as she turned to look at her husband.

A husband who was giving her big eyes.

She finished her call.

"Sorry, an emergency. Chris is down with the stomach virus that's doing the rounds. Lucy's got a tasting. And we've a wedding cake that needs assembling at The Hall. Gotta go."

Nico nodded. "How long?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Maybe an hour? Maybe less?"

"You are abandoning me to your guests?"

The way he said it and the whine in his voice made her smile.

Big baby.

"You can handle it, Ferranti." She reached up to kiss him right on that sulky mouth. He held her close, and she wriggled in his arms. "Gotta get changed. I'll be as quick as I can. Bye."

And she was off.

Two hours later...

Nico was relieved to see the food had gone down well with his guests.

Oscar Kimani, the award-winning head chef for the Ferranti group, had done an awesome job. At the moment, Oscar was on a two month secondment from the Ferranti Spa in Lake Como to bring his unique brand of originality and discipline to the kitchens of Ludlow Hall.

The guy might look intimidating. The young girls on reception always gave him a second look and behind his back called him
The Rock
, due to his massive frame. His carved features were hawk like, his dark eyes intense. The tattooed sleeve on his left arm only added to the bad boy impression. But as Nico well knew, looks could be deceptive. Oscar had attended one of the best schools in the country, Harrow, and had a clipped accent that spoke of the hunting, shooting and fishing set, the landed-gentry into which he'd been born. And from which he'd walked away. After university, where he'd read economics, the whisper was he'd devastated his father by turning his back on the family's international finance house to join the regular army, where he'd been snapped up by the intelligence corp. The catalyst for his career change had been the terror attack on London on seven/seven. In the carnage, he'd lost a childhood friend who had been as close to him as a brother. Oscar was ex-special forces. A very handy guy to have around in the backstreets of Rome, where muggers and pickpockets ruled dark and dingy streets. Nico couldn't help but fondly remember the good old days when he and Oscar had bumped bloody knuckles after beating the shit out of five knife-wielding bastards. But that was a story for another time.

These days Oscar ran his kitchens with military precision. Every person knew their role and they worked together to create some of the best fusion cooking in the world.

Oscar's team had left Bronte's kitchen immaculate.

Nico turned to the giant of a man who stood next to him dressed in chef whites.

"
Grazie
, Oscar."

"No problem, boss. The salt-baked salmon is always a winner. I'm sorry I missed Bronte, I wanted to talk to her about the recipe for the toffee fudge she uses in her mini-muffins. Fucking brilliant."

Nico did a quick recce for little ears, but the twins were well out of range, having the time of their lives playing with Joshua on the oak climbing frame and forts he'd built for them.

"Bronte will kill us both if Sophia picks up the F-bomb. My daughter never misses a trick to wind up her mama."

Oscar whipped off his chef cap, folded it and pushed it into the back pocket of his chef pants.

"Sorry, boss," he said. "Sophie's a pistol."

"
Si
, she is a handful at the moment."

As Oscar moved into the garden to say goodbye to the guests before he left, Nico checked his cell for a message from Bronte.

Nope.

Nada.

Maybe something had gone wrong, but if she'd been delayed she'd have let him know.

He frowned at the niggle of worry in his gut.

Then he was aware of Janine hovering at his elbow.

"I'm so sorry, Nico. I've ruined a lovely day. I should have done the client tasting."

The woman was too pale, her eyes still too bright.

But Nico couldn't be annoyed with the drama she'd created today.

Janine had been a very good friend to Bronte, and his twins adored her, too.

He put an arm around her shoulders, and couldn't help but notice the way she tensed.

Nico decided that Josh Erichsen was going to have a very hard time breaking down the barriers she'd erected.

So he placed a very chaste kiss on her cheek.

"Cut yourself a break, Jan. You are going through a hard thing. All of us, but especially Bronte, know this."

She relaxed and leaned into him.

"Thank you. I do appreciate the support. Is there anything I can do?"

"
Si
, you can go and sit and relax. Have a glass of wine, enjoy being with old friends and new friends."

Nico turned to Jacob and Gabriella who were leaving, too.

"
Gracias,
for everything, Nico," Jacob said as Nico kissed Gabriella's soft cheek. "Please thank Bronte for having us."

Nico gave him a man hug. "I will. She will be sorry she missed you."

He watched Jacob take Gabriella's hand and couldn't help but grin when she kissed his friend on the cheek. His outward breath of relief was heartfelt. Thank goodness the afternoon had gone well. Jacob and his family had appeared to accept Gabriella back into the fold. And he knew Bronte would be absolutely delighted.

He checked his watch.

Where the hell was his wife?

She was late.

And she was weary. Bronte put her foot down. The still and oppressive heat of the day was giving way to a stiff but warm breeze as storm clouds, black and boiling, rolled in from the South East, from the continent.

Rather than use the air-conditioning in her car, Bronte had the passenger and driver's windows down. It was late afternoon and the narrow road was quiet. She hummed along to Coldplay's
A Sky Full Of Stars
, that blared from her speakers
.

Ozone electrified the air, she could smell it.

She knew the twists and turns of the road like the back of her hand. Intuition took over as her hands relaxed on the steering wheel. How many years had she driven this road? Twelve? But then a sixth-sense took over, made her take her foot off the gas as she took the turn to pass the place where her parents had perished. The family had erected a small memorial, a carved cross made of oak from trees planted in the land surrounding Ludlow hall. She and the twins had left a posy of flowers fresh from her garden at the spot. Again, she took her foot off the gas. And as she turned a blind corner an immense Buck in his prime leapt over the hedge right into the path of her car. This time instinct had her grip the steering wheel tight as she tried to keep the car steady and straight. But she found that instead of driving towards the animal, she jerked the wheel to the right and closed her eyes.

The sickening thud and jolt of metal meeting flesh made her cry out.

Her eyes flew open and it was as if time slowed.

Blood and bone spewed over the windscreen and the deer was flying over the vehicle.

Then her eyes grew large as a huge oak tree was coming towards her too fast.

All she could think was that if she died Nico was going to be so mad. And then her hands went to her belly to protect her baby as car and tree collided. The last thing she heard was her scream as airbags burst forth and all she felt was pain and darkness.

Oscar Kimani was driving his ancient Jeep from The Dower House, and since he had his window down he heard the screech of brakes and the blood curdling crunch of breaking glass and crushing metal. He had five years in the military under his belt and recognised the lurch in his belly for what it was, bad news.

As he sped around the corner, he braked hard and was out of the car and racing towards Bronte Ferranti's Range Rover. A Range Rover that was hugging an immense oak tree.

Smoke was coming from the engine.

He smelled the blood before he saw it.

Ice filled his veins.

Then Bronte moaned. Even as the sound shook him up, he knew it meant she was alive.

And he thanked God that the window was down and he could open the door from the passenger side. Bronte's blonde head was slumped over the wheel. And he winced as he released the seatbelt that was tight below her belly. He knew the drill, which was to leave an injured person in a car. The slash on her head could be serious, but that didn't concern him as much as the possibility of internal trauma, especially to the baby. But then the too sweet smell of fuel made his mouth go bone dry.

Fuck
.

He had no choice but to get Bronte out of there and fast.

His hands grabbed her under the arms and attempted to haul her out.

But it appeared her right foot was trapped under the accelerator.

Then someone else was tugging at the buckled driver's door and pulling it open.

Gabriella Dolman's wide eyes met his and just as he was shouting that Bronte's foot was trapped, the woman dived in and managed to peel Bronte's foot out of her shoe. The smell of fuel was acrid now as more smoke belched from the engine.

Oscar lifted Bronte clear.

Then he held her close as he ran for his life.

Behind him he could hear Jacob Del Garda's deep voice swearing at his fiancée and heard feet running hot on his heels.

As one he and Jacob reached the grassy bank on the far side of Bronte's car and threw themselves into the ditch. The Range Rover's engine sparked hissed, then all went quiet before the fuel tank blew.

Jacob's hands couldn't stop shaking.

When he'd turned the corner and saw the scene, Gabriella had been out of his black BMW before the vehicle had stopped. With horror in his heart, all he could see was smoke coming from the engine. And when he'd finished his call to the emergency services, the smell of fuel made him scream Gabriella's name.

And that was when his imagination caused panic to take over.

In his mind, Jacob could easily visualise the flash of the explosion, feel the heat of the fire on his face.

He raced to her side to find Gabriella head down in the driver's foot well releasing Bronte's foot.

Then he could taste diesel fuel on his tongue as Oscar scooped up an unconscious Bronte and ran. Using curse words that belonged in the gutters of Barcelona, Jacob tossed Gabriella over his shoulder and sprinted after the chef.

He literally tossed Gabriella into the ditch before throwing himself on top of her.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Oscar covering a deathly pale Bronte, too.

Jacob didn't see the explosion. He heard it and he felt the swoosh of blistering heat as it slammed into his back, scorching the flesh on his neck. A high whistle sounded too close to his ear as something metal and deadly sang over their heads. Gabriella screamed and tried to turn in his arms. But he pinned her down.

Stunned, Jacob lay on top of Gabriella, his heart thundering in his chest, in his ears. Over the sound of exploding glass and burning wood, he turned to find the car had set fire to branches of the oak tree. The wind was spreading the fire fast in grass and hedgerows that were tinder dry from a hot spell that had lasted almost four months. If the wind changed direction they'd be in big trouble.

Dio mio.

But then he took a relieved breath as the sound of sirens filled the air.

"Are you injured?" Jacob dragged a boneless Gabriella to a sitting position and ran trembling hands over her body, her face. With shaky hands he plucked twigs and leaves from her hair.
Cristo
, she was covered from head to toe in scratches from a bramble bush and her knees and elbows were skinned and bloody. Big hazel eyes, filled with shock, stared into his.

"I'm okay." Gabriella held his hands tight, then she turned her head to look at Bronte. "Oh. My. God," she sobbed as she moved out of his arms and crawled on her hands and knees to the woman sprawled in the dirt.

Bronte was lying on her back on the grass. With great care, Oscar lay her on her left side in the recovery position, while Gabriella used bottled water to wet Oscar's white chef cap to clean the blood from the cut on Bronte's hairline.

For a few seconds, seconds that felt like hours, all was still and silent. Then lightning sheered across the sky, followed by a low growl that grew louder as thunder shook the earth. And then it started to rain.

Jacob sent up a heartfelt prayer of thanks as the heavens opened to damp down the fire.

He wasn't a man who believed in miracles, but Jacob reckoned he was witnessing one right now.

Then Gabriella sobbed his name and reached for him as the blue lights of two police cars and an ambulance screeched to a halt.

As the paramedics worked on Bronte, another ambulance and two fire engines roared up the road.

For too many minutes, Jacob and Oscar and Gabriella were checked over, their cuts and bruises dealt with. And then they gave witness statements to the police.

However, Gabriella was in the middle of an epic nose bleed that had the medics insist on taking her to hospital to be checked out.

Police inspector Andy Kershaw found the body of the Buck that had caused the mayhem in the first place and took photographs. A specialist road accident policeman took measurements of the tyre marks on the road.

Then a green suited paramedic, a woman, popped her blonde head in the door of the ambulance.

"Bronte's awake and asking for someone called Oscar."

Oscar rose. "That's me."

He jumped out of the ambulance and followed the paramedic to the ambulance that held Bronte Ferranti.

Taking Bronte's hand, Oscar found himself the recipient of glazed green eyes that searched his. "Tell Nico I love him," she whispered, then winced as pain took her.

Oscar was about to respond, when he heard the paramedic talking to the hospital on the radio.

"Vaginal bleeding. Faint fetal heartbeat."

Fuck.

Closing his eyes, he held on tight to Bronte's hand as the vehicle sped away with sirens wailing through a thunderstorm that made the earth tremble.

He opened his eyes to find Bronte's anxious eyes on his and then the hand he held went too cold.

Her eyes closed.

Panic rose in Oscar's throat.

"Tell him yourself, Bronte. You stay with me, you hear? Stay with me."