My heart was already squeezing tightly with realization.
“Jerry told Remo and me because he still needed to work the bar. We found a baby, a few weeks old, malnourished, dehydrated.”
I swallowed. “She threw her baby in the trash.”
“She didn’t take good care of him even before. Remo’s taken him to the hospital. He’s waiting for us.”
I blinked at Nino, understanding what he was suggesting. I sucked in a sharp breath, tears springing into my eyes and I began to tremble. Nino frowned, worry flickering across his face.
“I know you want to get pregnant, give birth to our child but—”
I interrupted him with a desperate kiss, cupping his face, crying. “I’ll love this baby with all my heart. Thank you, thank you so much.”
“It was Remo’s idea.” Nino pressed his forehead to mine for a moment. “Let’s go.”
I nodded slowly, but couldn’t move, too overwhelmed. Was this really happening? And should I even feel as happy as I did? After all, something horrible had happened. I turned off the stove, taking another deep breath.
“Kiara?” Nino asked softly.
“Let’s go,” I said, squeezing his hand.
Thirty minutes later, we stepped into the hospital room. Remo stood over a small baby lying in its bed and attached to beeping machines and a tube going into its nose. He was speaking in a hushed voice to the boy while stroking his arm. The baby’s eyes were open and watching Remo.
“Finally,” he said, as he straightened and with a last look at the baby came toward us. His gaze flickered over my teary cheeks and a hint of softness crossed his face that he so rarely showed to the outside world. “He’s about five weeks old. They say we can take him home tomorrow if we insist.”
“They won’t alert the authorities?” I asked as I approached the bed and bent over the little boy. His hair was soft and honey brown, and his eyes were bluish. I knew that often changed within a child’s first year.
“We are the fucking authorities in this city,” Remo said.
My eyes landed on the name tag on the crib. Boy. Falcone.
I traced the name, feeling my throat clog up once more as I glanced over my shoulder. Both Nino and Remo were watching me.
“I didn’t know what name you wanted for him, but his last name was easy,” Remo said.
I rushed toward him and threw my arms around his middle. He touched the back of my head briefly. “I don’t care if the world hates you, I’ll defend you against all of them.”
“I don’t give a fuck if the world hates me as long as the people who matter don’t,” Remo said, untangling my arms from his waist. “Now take care of your son.”
I gave him and Nino a teary smile then paused. “What if the mother asks for him?”
Any gentleness disappeared from both Nino’s and Remo’s faces. A shared past that carried into the present.
Remo’s eyes shone with hatred and anguish, and once again I wished someone had protected those Falcone boys when they needed it most. “She threw him into the dumpster like garbage. She left him for dead when she should have protected him, when she should have kept him safe till her last fucking breath. She isn’t his mother. You are, because in the few seconds you know him you already love him more than she ever did.”
Nino closed his eyes for a moment and when he met my gaze they were controlled and calm but I’d caught the blaze of emotion.
“When is his birthday?”
“I’ll find out. I’m heading over to the Sugar Trap now to talk to her. Jerry told me she was in her room with a John when he checked.”
I grabbed Remo’s forearm. “Don’t kill her.”
Remo’s expression reflected stark cruelty and utter hatred. “She threw her own child into the dumpster while she fucked a John and you think she deserves to live?”
I ran my thumb along the crisscross scars on his wrist and his face became even scarier ,if that was even possible. Nino put his hands on my shoulders. “Kiara. Let Remo handle this.”
“Maybe she doesn’t deserve to live, but maybe she doesn’t deserve death either. Hear her out, then judge her. There must be other options than killing her. Her death won’t change anything, not for the baby or for you.”
Remo ripped free from my hold. “I respect you but sometimes your kindness blinds you to the fucking truth. Go over to him and look at his stomach then repeat what you just said.”
Dread settled in my bones, immobilized me. Not Nino who walked over to the crib, pulled up the tiny gown then became very still, very dangerous and when his eyes settled on me I knew the woman would die. “He’s got two cigarette burns on his stomach.”
Remo regarded me, his mouth twisting cruelly, and cocked one eyebrow.