Guns n' Boys Book 1 Part 2 (5 page)

“Loyalty and respect, Domenico, are the key.
Whatever happens, yes?” Luigi looked into Dom’s eyes as he chewed
on his last piece of apple.

Domenico nodded. “As always.”

It was a long walk along the dark vineyards
to get to the old, unused well. The stars shone brightly in the sky
above Domenico, and the smell of fresh, damp grass made him happy
to be breathing. This place always reminded Dom of a more innocent
time, when he would come here with Angelo and hide in the darkness.
The chill was prominent at night, but in the summer, an evening in
the vineyards was heaven. He could even hear the waves of the sea
crashing against the cliff in the distance, where the fields ended
so close to the water. The Villani estate had a private beach, and
if one was up for a long walk, they could reach the seaside never
leaving the Family’s land.

As he ventured deeper into the field, he made
sure no one followed him, roaming the area like he had no purpose
whatsoever. But when he finally noticed the old well, his legs
carried him down a grassy field as if something was forcing them to
run. The structure, made of ancient looking stones, was hidden by
bushes that served as a border between two types of crops.

Dom sighed and let his hands rest on the
cold, rough surface before tipping his body to look into the black
shaft below. It smelled of dust. There couldn’t have been much rain
in recent days, weeks maybe. With all the yellow flowers growing
behind the bush, it was a nice place to be, especially at dusk,
when insects became less of an issue. He could see Seth enjoying an
evening here. But that wasn’t why he came.

Domenico dropped the duffel bag with
supplies to the ground and pulled off the rope he had hung over his
chest and kneeled by the nearest tree, carefully fastening one end
of the rope to its thick base before throwing the other end into
the well. It wasn’t him who had been betrayed this time, but when
he put on the protective gloves and dove into the darkness below
with just the rope and wall for support, it felt personal.

He slid down the wall and soon enough, his
feet hit the dry bottom of the well. Dom’s nostrils filled with
dust. Not many people knew about this passage, and the thick layer
of grime suggested no one had used it in a long time. He didn’t
think this place would still give him chills, but the shiver going
down his spine was undeniable. Facing the wall, he put his hands on
the cold stone and looked up into the circle of light over his
head. Way back, he had tried to climb up with his bare hands and
feet, only to fall back down, and he wondered if it would be any
easier now. He was tempted to switch on his cell phone and use it
as a flashlight, but there was no need to. He still remembered
every single stone in here.

Slowly, he dropped to one knee and found the
one he was looking for. His fingers traced the lines scratched in
the hard rock. All fifty-seven of them on one stone. There were
small drawings too, including a big cross scratched over the
entrance to a low tunnel, which was now behind Domenico. Even now,
somewhere deep in his brain he feared that there was something
unholy hiding in the pitch-black channel. That’s why during those
fifty-seven days he had only slept during the day. It was hard to
be ashamed, he had been only ten after all.

It had taken a wild storm and hail to make
him crawl in there with his soul desperately yelling for him to
stay in the light. He had chosen darkness. The tunnel in the well
ended not long farther down, with heavy iron bars, but as soon as
he’d become comfortable in the cold, black space, he had learned to
find peace in there. It protected him from rain, no one could throw
things at him or taunt him as much as when he stayed in the well
itself. And then he figured out how to open the bars, and the
fifty-seven days were over.

Domenico moved across the bottom of the dry
well and didn’t hesitate this time. He dove right into the tight
tunnel, low enough to force him to crawl on his hands and knees.
The earthy smell became damp as he ventured deeper into the hidden
tunnel he knew so well. He’d never calculated how long it took for
him to reach the mansion from the well, but he supposed it was at
least twenty minutes of a quick crawl, a journey he wouldn’t be
able to make were he claustrophobic. It felt like diving into
hell.

He got to the first set of bars and found
the rusty contraption used to open it. He didn’t even have to use a
modified belt buckle like he did all those years ago; now he came
prepared with the proper screwdriver. He was beginning to wonder if
this tunnel hadn’t been forgotten altogether because it was
littered with rocks and grime, Dom even brushed his hand over a
rotten mouse carcass. It took strength to force open the bars, but
he wasn’t ten anymore. If he could carry a guy like Seth, he could
pull out rusty iron. It opened with a squeak of hinges that sounded
like the screech of a demon. It wouldn’t be the last he was about
to confront.

He was shutting down his thoughts as the
tunnel became even narrower and colder. There was no reason to
think much. All that counted was to progress through this black
hole, all the way to the second set of bars. Dom’s weight didn’t
fluctuate, but he could never know, and getting stuck in a place
such as this would mean his death as there was no cell phone signal
down here below the ground. His breath came in slow, careful
inhales, but as his fingers brushed over the familiar piece of
metal, he couldn’t stop himself from sighing in relief.

One more gate into hell, and if he
remembered correctly, it would be less than five minutes before he
reached the lowest level of the wine cellar in the Villani mansion.
There was no light for him to see, but when he reached a plastic
barrier, he knew he was there. The corridor was hidden by a fake
ventilator, which Dom carefully unscrewed before jumping down to
the stone floor. Putting the cover back on was easy enough, and he
listened to the sounds of the house. It was too late for anyone to
be up, and he knew for a fact that there were no cameras in the
cellar, so he didn’t try to hide.

Without turning on the light, he walked along
the huge barrels with fermenting wine, using his hands and feet for
direction. The tip of his sneaker eventually bumped into a stair,
and he carefully walked up all six of them before taking a turn to
the right, into what he knew was a magnificent room with several
barrels, one of which did not contain wine. Domenico switched on
the tiny flashlight in his phone and walked up to the right barrel,
which, lying on its side, was taller than him.

He rushed to open its front which even had a
tap like all the others. But if you knew the right combination of
twists and turns on it, you could open the huge round door. It
reminded Dom of a hobbit house, like in a movie Seth had made him
watch in Berlin, but its insides were much more sinister. The
moment Dom stepped into the barrel, a white, laboratory-like light
switched on in the other end, revealing an ancient fresco of Jesus
on a cross. It had too many cracks to count, there were bits
missing, but the image and the raw, bloody realism of it never
failed to make Dom choke up, even if for just a second. He crossed
himself and walked straight into an old holding cell, still in use,
still furnished with iron shackles fastened to the wall.

There was a jangle of chain as the prisoner
looked up, face so bruised and bloody Dom hardly recognized
Angelo’s handsome features. His neck was adorned with a thick iron
collar chained to the wall, and his hands were cuffed. All the man
wore was a pair of dirty jeans. He opened his eyes but didn’t say a
word, just staring at Domenico with a silent question on his
smashed lips.

Dom folded his arms across his chest,
fighting a sudden clench in his gut. This was the man who had
presented Seth to the Chinese on a silver platter, like a roasted
pig with an apple in his mouth. This was the man who had betrayed
Domenico a long time ago. It seemed lack of loyalty was in Angelo’s
blood.

“I’m not here to help you get free.”

He could see the spark die in Angelo’s eyes
with a long exhale, but it had to take a while for the information
to seep in because he only managed an “oh,” after the longest
pause.

“Are you here to torture me?” he rasped.

Domenico slowly made his way closer, step by
step. For what Angelo did, he wanted to put another fracture in
that formerly straight nose, but he wouldn’t take any pleasure from
tearing Angelo’s flesh or crushing his fingers. “Why would you
think that?”

“Just an assumption. No one wants to see
Domenico Acerbi in their cell as they’re waiting to have their fate
sealed.” Angelo sneered, but it looked like it was the speaking,
moving his face, that hurt him, not the words themselves.

Domenico glanced at a pitcher of water to
Angelo’s side and reached into his pocket, retrieving a small piece
of paper wrapped around two pills. He walked close enough for his
foot to dig into the flesh of Angelo’s knee and showed him the
opiate painkillers. “It’ll make you feel better for now.”

Angelo scrambled forward, his formerly sleek
black hair now in a mess with clots of blood. “Why did you come
here? You know what I did,” he said, but opened his mouth wide and
held out his tongue.

Dom slowly squatted between Angelo’s thighs,
close enough to smell every bit of blood, sweat, and fear. He
picked up the pitcher and carefully placed the pills on Angelo’s
tongue before giving him some of the water to drink. It was a sorry
sight. “Why did you do it?” he asked. “Was the money really worth
the risk?”

Angelo swallowed greedily, water dripping
down his chin and naked chest as he drank. Dom’s gaze followed the
droplets, but it quickly focused on the dried blood Angelo was
sitting in. His stained jeans suggested a violation Dom wasn’t all
that keen on imagining.

Angelo leaned back against the wall and
closed his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand. It was more than money.
The opportunity fell into my lap. I gambled, and I lost.”

“Like the opportunity of gambling with me?”
asked Domenico right away.

Angelo’s eyes shot open, and he let out a
raspy laugh. “I’m all out of fucks to give if that’s what you came
for.”

Domenico smiled, shaking his head as anger
bubbled up deep inside his chest. He kept it well hidden. “You’re
gonna die one way or another,” he said without any
satisfaction.

“What do you want from me
then? I was sixteen and threatened by Frederico Villani of all
people. Was I supposed to fight him for my
one true love
?” Angelo pouted in the
most unpleasant way. “That wasn’t even a gamble.”

Domenico sighed and reached
out, brushing some of the clotted hair out of Angelo’s face to
uncover his bright eyes.
He
would have back then. At fifteen, he was
definitely mad enough to take on the whole Family if need be, but
now the flame that used to burn for Angelo was merely a flicker.
“So why?”

“I’m not like you. The Family stifled me and
my needs,” Angelo spat. “I wanted out,” he whispered the last
words, his eyes more intense.

Domenico shook his head. “Your needs? The
ones you were out satisfying when they found you in a gay bar in
fucking Palermo? Who fucks this close to home?”

“Everyone else but us!” Angelo pulled on the
cuffs on his wrists with a rattle of chain. “This has always been
my life. In fear, on a chain, and in a puddle of blood. I didn’t
get to go to fucking Paris or New York on Family money. I was
always here. Always too close to home. Never able to let go.”

“Shh, that’s not gonna help.” Domenico slowly
massaged the top of Angelo’s head, trying to calm him down. “And
how was this stunt gonna help you? Who’d want Seth dead?”

Angelo’s breath trembled. “There is a man
who goes by ‘Mr. Tropico’. I don’t even know if he’s a part of our
Family, or if he’s from the Triad or what, but he wants Seth dead.
He offered me a one-way ticket to a nice cozy home on an island in
Indonesia if I helped organize the hit. I gave it my best shot.” He
shrugged and leaned into Dom’s hand like a beaten pup, hungry for
any affection it could get.

Domenico leaned in, pulling him close and
letting Angelo’s head rest on his shoulder. Angelo was burning up
with fever. “No idea who it might be?” Domenico whispered, petting
him gently.

“No one knows. Vincente doesn’t have the
brains for it, and Frederico would wait with shit like this until
Santo is older. I thought Seth would be an easy target,” Angelo
babbled, taking deep breaths.

“He’s under my protection now,” whispered
Domenico, slowly pulling away even though he still kept his hands
on Angelo. “He won’t die.”

“You better have eyes on the back of your
head then.”

Domenico exhaled, looking at the dried blood
on Angelo’s torso. This man would take all his secrets into the
grave with him.

“He was a virgin, you know,” he whispered,
looking up into Angelo’s eyes. “He gave himself to me, and I can’t
let him down.”

Angelo’s face was becoming sweaty, but his
eyes went wide in disbelief. “You fucked Seth Villani? I always
knew you’d go far, but this is just priceless. You don’t have the
gene responsible for common sense, do you?”

Domenico frowned and looked at the shackles
on Angelo’s hands. It was all about playing one’s cards well. “I am
fucking him a lot.”

“How long is that gonna last, huh? Even
you’re not going to keep your head if the Don finds out.”

“He’s not gonna find out.” Dom sat down
between Angelo’s legs and stroked his hand down his torso. Too bad
he couldn’t kill him now, it would have made it easier for both of
them. Regardless of all the spite he still felt after being
abandoned, he didn’t want to think about Angelo waiting here for
his death.