Destino (51 page)

He stroked her back.

She rubbed the side of her face against his chest.

He kissed the top of her head and held her.

“Please forgive me, Bella. Can you try?”

She nodded that she would. Her head went back, and she managed to look him in the eye.

He kissed her brow. “Flavio will be here to see after you. I promise not to be long. I swear it. And then I will take you from here.”

“She’s dead… Don’t leave me. I can’t… I can’t be alone right now.”

He lifted her in his arms, and she held to his neck. He walked away from the bed to the large sofa chair and lowered into it awkwardly while holding her. Mira curled up on his lap. She buried her face in his neck and inhaled the strong woodsy cologne on his skin and felt safe in his strong arms. She’d never been so afraid of herself and someone else in her life. When she was with him, she was weak. She should blame him, try to escape him, but now all she wanted was for him to remain with her. “I don’t know if I can ever leave this room, without you, I can’t take it. Life without her, I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”

He didn’t answer. They sat in silence for a long comfortable time. He just held her and protected her. Soon the drugs in her system made the lethargy return. Her head felt heavy. She felt as if she was weightless and knew he was returning her to bed.

“Don’t…. go. No more. Don’t do it.”

“Rest. I’m not what you think I am. I promise to come back.”

“Don’t!” she grabbed his arm and clawed at him trying to hook her hand around his neck to bring him down in bed with her. “Don’t! They’ll kill you too. That’s what they want right? To kill us all? Right? It’s how it works.”

“Bella…”

“Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!” she beat her fist against his chest. He pinned her down to the bed. She screamed out of frustration. He had no choice but to come into bed with her. To bring her into his arms and hold her. She relaxed and settled into his embrace. Tears streamed but the panic in her chest lessened.

“Stay,” she said as she began to drift.

“I’m here. I’m not leaving you.”

The last of her strength slipped and she eased back into sleep.

****

Mira woke from a touch to her shoulder. “Giovanni?”

Confused she blinked twice to see the face clearly. Flavio stood over her bed. His face was stern, almost a scowl. His grey eyes were polarizing. Surprised, she scooted away drawing the sheet up close to her.

“
Signorina,
you will need to get dressed. Now.”

“Why are you in here? Get out.”

“I have unfortunate news.”

“Is it Giovanni?” She sat upright. “Is he hurt?”

“He sent me. You have to leave. You aren’t safe here.”

“What? He said he wouldn’t leave me. Where is he?”

“Gone. You must get dressed while you still can. Take what you can, and we will send your things. There is a plane waiting for you in Napoli.”

“You’re a damn liar!! He wouldn’t break up with me through you! Not after my friend died today, not after… everything. He wouldn’t!” she shouted at him.

Flavio yanked the coverlet off her, and she swung and hit him in his face with her fist. The rage in his eyes made her quickly scoot away, almost scramble. She got out on the other side of the bed ready to defend herself if it came to it.

He sneered at her. “
Puttana
! He doesn’t care for you or that tramp who died today. You put on clothes and be ready to leave now or I’ll drag you out of here as you are.”

“NO! Giovanni!” Mira ran for the door. Flavio had to have anticipated her actions because he caught her and dragged her back from it. The door opened and a young man looked in, shocked. Flavio shouted something to him in Italian, and the young man closed the door. He then grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the shut door. Mira blinked from the force of his actions and the dull ache that cut through her skull.

“Listen to me. Run, scream, make this difficult in any way and I will shut you up. Permanently!”

Mira shook her head sadly at him. Flavio let her go, and she gasped for air, moving quickly out his reach, her hand to her throat. He yanked open the door and stormed out of the room. Putting her hands to her face, she cried once more.

****

The caravan of cars that moved along the country road began to slow down as all the vehicles one by one extinguished their lights. Giovanni clenched and unclenched his fist staring out into the night. His heart hammered in his chest, his throat felt dry as sandpaper, and his eyes watered from the constant strain of not-blinking. “Where are the Nigerians?” he asked.

“They will be here.” Dominic ended the call. “We just need to wait.”

“And
Don di Petro’s
men?” Giovanni’s gaze swept the forested trees. The single road that drove up to the inn was free of cars. If the Don had sent his men they would be on foot, in the dark, and ready with his men.

“They’re out there.” He ended the phone call he was on and set the receiver back in the phone box situated in the middle of a leather console between the men. “Carlo confirms that Giuseppe’s rotting corpse was delivered to the Don’s wife.”

“
Bene
.” Still Giovanni couldn’t relax. He needed to get back to his Bella, to be there when she woke again. He remembered her holding him, how she pleaded for him not to go. Right now she was confused, the
dottore
said it was shock. Giovanni knew it was far worse. He suffered the same grief after watching his father gunned down in front of him. That kind of pain changes a person. He would do everything in his power to take the pain and fear from his Bella’s heart.

“Gio, there’s something you should know.”

“What is it?” he mumbled, and continued to stare out of the window.

“While you were tending to your woman, Flavio and I paid
Don di Petro
a visit on your behalf.”

Giovanni’s gaze swung to Dominic. “I said there would be no meeting. I made a call to the Don.”

“And we paid a visit to ensure that he would adhere to your request. In exchange we vowed there would be no war between the
Cammora
and
Ndgrangheta
.”

Dominic now commanded Giovanni’s undivided attention. He specifically gave an order. Why would his consigliere and under boss both defy it so openly? “Are you saying you went against my wishes?”

Dominic nodded. “Flavio is convinced that peace is the best way and that you are distracted. He also believes it’s because of your woman, the American.”

“Well you both are wrong. And I will deal with Flavio when I return.”

“He’s going to sacrifice Lorenzo. I think he’s going to counsel you to cut him loose. With him in Genoa now dumping Giuseppe’s body, I’m worried it might be a trap.”

Giovanni cut his eyes back to the window. He’d deal with Flavio, Lorenzo, all of it later. One fuck up at a time. Six cars arrived in the night. The bastards who dared interfere with his product from the Irish were filing in one after another. Several got out of their cars. A cold dark wave of satisfaction moved over Giovanni. He leaned forward and squinted, counting the men present. The one named Enu emerged last. Dominic made sure to point him out to Giovanni. Even under the silver glow of the moon, he could see they were armed.

The doors to the inn opened and three men from Giovanni’s family walked out. They spoke to the Nigerians who didn’t understand the greeting. And then it happened. Men from every direction of the forest stepped out firing, as did the men on the front steps of the inn. Bullet spray and cannon blasts from all the guns firing at once reminded him of a fireworks display. It only took three minutes for the Nigerians to lie dead in the streets. He relaxed in his seat and Dominic told the driver to take them down out of the valley to the inn.

“I want to see Flavio, now.”

****

Mira struggled to process her grief, anger, and heartbreak over a single thought. She had her purse and passport but not much else. Each time she tried to put clothes in a bag she broke down in tears. Finally giving up she went out of the room with a guard on her heels heading to Fabiana’s room. Opening the door she immediately smelled her perfume. Mira covered her mouth as the image of Fabiana standing in front of her wearing that damn yellow dress she hated, twirling around tauntingly, came into view then faded.

Laughter surfaced as she recalled Fabiana teasing her about the dress. For years she put her best friend in her best designs, and the day of her death she wore that monstrosity. The humor drained from Mira’s lips. She glanced around the room at Fabiana’s things. Seeing her cosmetic bag open on top of the vanity, she smiled weakly. Going over she stuck her hand inside, moving around the multiple lipsticks and glosses. She was reminded of how Fabiana fussed over her makeup and hair whenever they had a show. “You always kept us together,” she mumbled.

Flavio stepped into the room behind her. She could feel his presence. “The car is ready for you.”

Mira looked over at him, “I want her things sent to me, and her body, if there is a body,” she said weakly.

“Of course, I’ll contact you shortly after you land to arrange it. The press has made calls. They are trying to reach you for a comment.” He stood under the door glaring at her. “We will discuss how you will share with the world this unfortunate accident.”

Mira picked up Fabiana’s purse, stepping away from the vanity. Dressed now in jeans and a t-shirt with a bruised face and heart, she nodded in agreement with Flavio’s demands. She cared nothing about her appearance and only wanted to get away from this place and the heartache she felt over Giovanni using his attack dog on her. For abandoning her.

Fish had backed his Vespa up a hill under the dense cover of trees outside of the Battaglia villa. Even the patrols were not able to see him from this distance. He scanned the front of the estate with night binoculars. The American woman that they learned was staying at the compound was escorted into a car. Smiling he lowered the binoculars. Angelo anticipated that Giovanni would send the other bitch to America after the botched attempt to kill Lorenzo blew up the redhead. It was Fish’s mission to follow and take her out. This he did willingly. They made a big mistake taking Maria. Neither he nor Angelo could agree on much, but Maria’s life and safety was one of the few.

He’d blow up the fucking universe to have her back.

Fish started his Vespa. He bristled at the low rumble the bike made. Hopefully no one was close enough to hear. He put up his binoculars and removed his gun just in case. He wanted to kill the Battaglia bitch Catalina and her new husband. Angelo was against it. Taking out Lorenzo Battaglia was a gem Fish had to agree was far better. Now the women presented an even greater opportunity. Apparently they were well known in America. The deaths of them both would bring plenty unwanted media attention to the Battaglia’s and cripple the family’s prestige in the Republic. Breaking them from within would then make the families in the
Cammora
loyal to Calderone. Yes. This was a better plan.

****

Giovanni stepped out of the car. The air was tinged with sulfur and the bitter smell of blood. The men had shredded the Nigerians and most of them were unrecognizable bloody heaps. However Enu, the leader, lie on his back very much alive. He wheezed with a chest full of holes. How the fucker remained alive was a mystery. Giovanni glanced up at Dominic and his underboss nodded. He removed his piece and fired directly into the man’s skull ending the man once and for all.

****

Mira fastened her seatbelt and reclined back in her airplane seat. Flavio had been specific. Fabiana died in a terrible fireworks accident behind the walls of Melanzana. The explosion came after the celebratory party for seeing Catalina off to her honeymoon. A ridiculous story she was sure she could never adhere to, but nonetheless she agreed. In fact the Italian media had already reported Flavio’s version of events and the press in the United States were running with it.

This was all she was left with. The sweet promises she and Giovanni had made to each other had evaporated. Three weeks and her life was in shambles. The plane began to taxi down the runway, and she closed her eyes. Maybe when this was all over he’d come back to her. Maybe he’d leave this madness behind and come for her. Bursting into tears she shook her head sadly. The truth was there were no maybes. This was the end.

Chapter Seventeen

Giovanni hurried up the steps of
Melanzana
. He’d check on Mira first then summon Flavio to
Villa Rosso
.

“Gio.” Flavio called out to him as he raced up the stairs to his bedroom, to her. He paused and looked down. Flavio stood at the base of the stairwell, staring up. “She’s not there.”

“Who?”

“The woman, Mira, she’s gone.”

“Gone? What does this mean, gone? How can she be gone?” He stalked back down the steps.

“After you left, she made a call to her American friends. She threatened the family, you, with exposing the truth about Lorenzo and Fabiana. She insisted we take her to the airport, put her on a plane. I had little time to react. She left me no choice.”