Destino (37 page)

Soon he arrived at the Battaglia gates, avoiding a roadside stall in his favorite spots car. The men opened the gates and granted him entrance. No one came or went without a face to face. He drove up the drive and parked behind an American made motorcycle. He wondered which of the boys had bought the toy. Outside of the car with the door slamming shut behind him, he approached it.

“Nice, isn’t it?”

He glanced to his left. Carlo flicked his hand rolled cigarillo and smirked. “Been waiting.”

“Need you to have someone come pick up my car to have it tuned. The engine sounds funny.” He was in no mood for questioning from his friend or anyone. He just needed to get somewhere and cool off to think of his next move.

“What the fuck I look like, your errand boy?” Carlo asked, catching the keys tossed to him mid-air.

Lorenzo didn’t break his stride. He entered the house and beat a hard path to the lower rooms. He heard the soft sounds of laughter. He slowed and looked to the left. It was a woman’s laugh.

Smoothing out his hair he sucked in a deep breath and walked into a sunroom that led out to the open terrace. Seated around a table was Mira, Catalina, and Fabiana eating and drinking wine. Fabiana’s eyes lifted and locked on him. She rose from her seat and came to him immediately. “I was wondering when you’d come back.” Lorenzo pulled her in his arms grateful to feel her. She kissed him sweetly on the lips then offered him more. Amazing how calm he felt after one kiss from her. Fabiana withdrew. She turned and grinned at the women while holding his hand. “Mira and Giovanni brought back some wine from the vineyard. Do you want some? Have you eaten?”

Lorenzo looked at the ladies staring at him and then back at Fabiana, “Where’s my cousin?”

“
Villa Rosso
probably.” Catalina said.

The night dragged on without him. Laughter, wine, and the excited chatter of the pending nuptials from Catalina filled the evening. Several times she caught Lorenzo checking his watch. She wondered about this place called ‘
Villa Rosso’
and why Lorenzo didn’t go there to summon Giovanni. He never did. Eventually he and Fabiana retired for the evening, and she was left alone with Catalina.

“Where is this
Villa Rosso
place?” Mira asked.

Catalina lowered her wine glass, her nose wrinkling. “Outside. It’s the cottage Papa built at the end of the garden trails. Giovanni lives there mostly. Sometimes for days.” Catalina gave an eye-roll. “I try to keep it nice, for him and the men, but he won’t allow me in there without his permission, and they make it messy always. The staff is never allowed there. It smells of whiskey and his stinky cigars.” She shrugged her shoulders. “He’s like Papa, likes to be there alone, no matter the state. Mama had a kitchen and bedroom made up in there so he's fine.”

“Days? You said he lives there? Not here?”

“When he wants.” Catalina smiled. “Don’t worry, he’ll come back. He always does.”

She felt a presence behind her, the deep blush to Catalina’s cheeks made Mira turn to see who had entered. The one Giovanni called Dominic stood in the doorway. He wore a look that Mira recognized. A mixture of love, lust, and shame. She saw that look in Giovanni’s eyes after he ravished her in the bed and caused the bite to her shoulder. Mira's gaze swiveled between Dominic and Catalina, and her brows lowered with concern. Dominic was staring at the young bride to be.

“Good night Mira. I have to talk to Domi.”

Catalina was out of her chair sashaying toward the door. Her dark curly hair swayed across her shoulders. Then she was gone.

“Stop Mira. Mind your own business. The man is too old for Catalina.” She reasoned, dismissing what she thought passed between the two. She sighed. What was she doing there? It felt ridiculous to be held up in this massive estate to only spend evenings in this man's bed. She understood he had work to do, but so did she. Maybe she’d talk to Fabiana about cutting this visit short. It didn’t mean that their affair had to end. She just needed her life back. Working on Catalina’s dress had sparked the urge to do more. She rose and walked out. As she approached the stairs she considered what Catalina said. The man wouldn’t disappear on her if it wasn’t serious. What if he needed someone to talk to? Uncanny as it was, she felt such a tie to him now. She couldn’t dismiss it.

Mira turned left instead of right, lost in her thoughts. Passing through two open rooms she stopped and looked around confused. The stairs had to be in the front of the house, so she tried to double back.

She heard a woman’s sigh. Mira stopped. It could have been the wind. The longer hallways carried drafts from all the open windows to the front of the villa. She listened and heard nothing. Glancing back over her shoulder the sound drifted to her ears again. A sweet mixture of soft sighs and moans that sounded feminine in nature. She stood alone in the hall. Curiosity seized her sensibility, and she began to trace her steps back the way she came. She stopped at a door drawn partially shut. She heard a crash and a giggle. It was Catalina. Silent and careful she positioned her left eye to the crack in the door and peered in.

Dominic advanced on Catalina who stepped back with a sly teasing smile. Mira pressed closer to the door to see, and it eased open a sliver. Dominic drew Catalina to him in a gentle manner with his hand to her hip. It seemed innocent enough if it weren’t for the glazed look of awe and desire on Catalina’s face. Mira held her breath. What was unfolding? Dominic said something. He had a deep timber to his voice that reminded her of a rhythm and blues singer—husky and sultry. Mira wished she knew the translation. Soon she needed none. Catalina threw her arms around Dominic’s neck and giggled. He spun her in his arms, and she hugged his neck tightly. What seemed like simple flirty play soon changed to an embrace of lovers. In one deft move Catalina was pressed up against the wall bookshelf. The couple kissed and clawed at each other’s clothing. The front of Catalina’s dress was yanked down and Dominic’s face was buried in her cleavage. Catalina responded by working on his zipper. Soon Dominic’s pants were riding at his hips, belt undone. Catalina’s right leg draped over the crook of his arm opening her for his thrusting cock. Catalina gasped clenching his shoulders, her head rolling back in pleasure. The bookshelf shook, a few books dropped to the floor. Dominic fucked her with slow measured thrusts. Mira covered her mouth. Dominic stopped his thrusts and lowered, sucking her nipple then going down between Catalina’s thighs. She dropped her leg over his shoulder and gripped the top of his curly hair to grind her sex against his plundering mouth.

Mira couldn’t tear away from the scene.

Catalina moaned in ecstasy. Her eyes opened and her head turned. She locked eyes on Mira who had inadvertently pushed the door ajar a bit to reveal the scene. Embarrassed Mira fled for the stairs.

Giovanni rose from his chair. He walked over to the bar and picked up a bottle. No matter how he digested the news of his cousin’s involvement with Giuseppe Calderone he couldn’t accept it. They’d taken an oath. And it meant more than words and blood, it was who they were. They believed in family and loyalty above all else. Lorenzo would not jeopardize it all to be some drug pusher. There had to be another reason for his lapse in judgment. But what?

He turned up the bottle and took a long swallow until his throat felt torched and his chest aflame. He wiped the scotch from his lips. His eyes fell upon his gun. He remembered when he first used it. How he felt. What he’d done. Could he use it again? On the man he called brother?

February 16, 1983

Napoli, Italy

“Count minchione!” Lorenzo shoved the nozzle of the gun so deep into the man’s mouth he gagged. Others stood around watching, waiting. “Figlio di puttana!”

Two Russians lie dead in the freezer, both with their throats cut and bullets to their backs. Giovanni still had blood on his hands, pants, and shoes. His chest bulked. He wanted a confession. He needed a confession. And though he should be nowhere near this bloodbath, he intended to see it through. Lorenzo knew this. Felt his need for revenge that ate away at his soul like a cancer. His cousin had found the bastards and tied them down in the bakery. He summoned him without the men. Fed the monster in him that made him Don Tomosino’s son.

Lorenzo glanced back to him. “He’s the one Giovanni, the one who pulled the trigger. He’s the one who took Papa from us.”

“He’s mine!” Giovanni said.

“No.” Flavio entered the freezer with Dominic and Carlo behind him. Giovanni was in such a murderous daze he didn’t hear the old man speak. He gripped the gun tighter. “Don’t do it, Gio.”

Lorenzo removed the gun from the man’s mouth. He glanced back at the men then to Giovanni. All of this unfolded as the Russian dropped his head, gagging and gasping for breath.

“Gio?” Flavio said, he walked over, stood before him. “Listen to me. Your word is law. You do not have to do this. Let the boys finish him off. Bring you his head, his hands, and his feet. But you must remain clean.”

“He deserves vengeance!” Lorenzo shouted.

“We all do.” Carlo spoke out of turn.

Giovanni breathed through his nose. He tracked the Russian with his eyes as the coward backed away on his knees.

“And he shall have it! That is why you are number two! It is your job to do this for your Don! Do you hear me!” Flavio snapped. He eased the gun from Giovanni’s hand. “Lead these men, Gio, don’t become one of them to do it.”

Giovanni remembered the gunshots. How his father fell and blood pooled like a river of red draining from his body and running streams down the streets. He remembered the suffering of his poor mother, how confused and desperate she and his sister had become. Together they wept at his father’s bedside. Eventually his mama had to be medicated in order to be taken out of the room. He remembered Catalina crawling in bed with him shivering, begging him to make Papa well again. And he remembered the day they lowered his father into the ground. All of it boiled up into a storm that strangled his heart. He shoved Flavio from in front of him. He grabbed the two ice picks on the steel freezer and charged the man. The Russian didn’t scream, he didn’t beg for mercy. In fact Giovanni could have sworn as he charged him the man knew his fate and smiled. Without delay he shoved both ice picks into his eyes and pinned the murderer to the ground. Men converged on him and he managed to throw them off in time to get his gun, the one given to him by his grandfather. The one called ‘Danny-boy’. He unloaded the clip into the dead man.

Silence fell over those in the freezer. Giovanni stumbled back, rising from the darkness that had engulfed him. He saw the carnage, the one he’d committed and suppressed the gag in his throat. He’d killed men. He’d done it with his own hands. He’d become what his mother always feared. When he glanced up he could see the dark approval gleaming in Lorenzo’s eyes. He could see the satisfaction in Carlo’s smile. And he could see the profound disappointment in Flavio’s scowl. Unable to stomach it he turned and walked out.

Giovanni sucked down a deep breath. Lorenzo wouldn’t betray him. There had to be an explanation for all of this. His cousin was loyal. They all were. They had to be. He stared at Danny-boy. Otherwise he’d have the final word.

Chapter Eleven

Mira slipped on her gown. She looked at her frizzy hair and felt tired from the sight of it. She showered and tried hard to forget the scene she witnessed. Catalina and Dominic? What had she seen? Mira flipped off the light switch and walked back into the room. Catalina stormed into the room and paced by the bed. Her face was streaked with tears.

“Please! Please don’t tell him. Please! He’ll kill Domi. Please!”

Stunned, Mira froze.

“I can explain. I can…” Catalina gripped her hair on both sides, pulling until her eyes stretched. “It’s not Domi’s fault. He didn’t want it. He never did, but I wouldn’t stop. I’ve loved him since I was two. I’ve always loved him. He’s a brother to Giovanni and Lorenzo. He was raised by them. They will see this as incest, but it isn’t. We aren’t blood related. He’s adopted. It’s not… and… oh my God. Oh my God Gio will find out!”

“Calm down.” Mira hurried to her. She drew her into an embrace. Catalina clung to her, crying into her shoulder. “I didn’t tell Domi you saw us. He is guilty enough. He’d be foolish and confess to my brother. They’d kill him. Please Mira.”

“Okay. I won’t say a word. Listen to me. It’s okay.” She pulled her face from her shoulder and cupped it in her hands. “It will be okay.”

Catalina nodded. Mira guided her to the bed and let her sit. “Are you in love with him?”

“Yes. And he loves me.”

“Then why not go to your brother and tell him?”

“I couldn’t! I can’t! I’m to be married.”

“Marry Dominic?”

Catalina frowned. “It doesn’t work that way. Giovanni is following my father’s orders. He always does what is expected and so do I. That’s how it works. He’s in danger constantly, Mira. The families, well they don’t respect him. He has to do things to keep his respect or it’s the end of us all. And if the families found out about me and Domi, and I backed out on my wedding then Giovanni will be shamed. The entire family would be. Don’t you understand? We can’t be together. Ever.”