Luzo: Reign of a Mafia Don (12 page)

Luzo socked the disrespectful boy in the mouth. He spiraled over the low table and glared up at his elder brother with undisguised venom. Luzo’s shoulders then sagged. He had returned for his little brother. He had missed the love he had remembered from his childhood. His family had been desecrated, yet he had hoped he would still find love in his young sibling who had once looked at him with adoring eyes. He felt loveless now. His heart clamped closed.

Ernesto had remained in his seat. It is to the elder man, Luzo spoke. “If he disobeys my order, kill the girl!”

Luzo stormed out of the house. Alberti had murdered his heart with words.

Ernesto had not intervened in the altercation. Luzo was right. When Alberti stood upright, it is a father’s authority that a dutiful son heard.

“The twins will remain with your mama and me as agreed. You will learn business from your brother. You will not contact Sabrina Deguardino or you risk her death. Va, freshen up, your mama is due home and there is a lot we must discuss about the children’s care.”

Alberti lifted his chin. “I am a uomo papa, not a boy. I have a say in who I will court.”

Ernesto’s chest
flared out with an inhalation. Upon exhalation he said with patience, “To make such a declaration suggests there is doubt. Therefore, let me tell you what an observer sees. He sees a young man who has behaved like a child. You used words as fists to strike first, but did not expect the return blow. That shows you did not consider the reaction. Luzo was a boy when he was sent to France. He did not go against his father. In his absence tragedy occurred, which he could not foresee or halt, yet you injure him deliberately. Listening would have sufficed. That would have been a wiser action of a loving brother who believes himself a uomo. Luzo suffers but you are blind. He sacrifices, yet you are uncaring. Everything he does is for the love of famiglia which makes him dutiful to a fault. Where is this loyalty or forgiveness to blood that you can willingly give a girl whose reprehensible actions nearly killed your sons, eh ragazzo?” The booming sound of an angered Protezione asked in the quiet room.

Alberti was shamed. He had not considered Luzo’s feelings; this brought a frown. “Mi dispiace.”

“Bene. You have remorse. You have taken the first step by accepting responsibility. Tomorrow your mama and I will have the documents prepared for the bambini. We will care for them as our own. I will teach the bambini the way of the Protezione.”

“Sí.”

“Reparations between you and your brother must begin as well. A contemptuous string cannot exist for an enemy to pluck. You will spend more time with Luzo. See beyond his shell the heart of brotherhood and love.”

“Sí,” Alberti said rubbing his sore jaw.

“What are we to call the bambini?” Ernesto asked. He had yet to move out of his comfortable seat.

Alberti’s eyes looked toward the stairs. In his former room the
bambini slept. Under the care of such loving parents he was certain they could not have a better home. His father had shared many secrets about their family. These were the first of the next generation in the line for a nonexistent throne. He could not forget Sabrina’s repulsion when she learned he was The Butcher’s son. Her father had poisoned her mind, made her hate with an intensity which rivaled their love, but one cannot shut off emotions like a faucet. He still cared and worried about her well-being, after-all she was the mother of his sons. If he had to choose names, then he wanted to honor his family. Luzo was proud of his blood, thus it was fitting that he named the twins after his grandfather and his twin brother.

“Vincenzo and Nicolo.”

“Excellent choice.”

Then the babies cried loudly. The boy’s lungs were unaffected by the water that days ago
could have silenced them forever.

Ernesto abandoned comfort to assist Alberti in tending to their needs. Alberti did not see a killer, but a loving man that one day he aspired to be.

***

Luzo dangled the bottle of scotch in his hand and reclined his head to the backrest of the comfortable winged chair. The staff retired, his wife had not returned home and Giuseppe had yet to phone. He had good news. He would have the territories south of Palermo without interference. Luzo had met with the families, regaled them with his charm and of course assurances that he would hire able-bodied relatives willing to learn the construction trade. Many had smiles, because in every family there is a boy who seeks alternative employment. Not every child wants to shoot or engage in racketeering.

Umberto
Cigliari had begun to warm to him. Luzo chuckled; money going in to a person’s pocket from someone with insider’s knowledge on stocks or technology and yields hefty dividends for the greedy is a seduction equal to sex.

Other
influential people sought his friendship, ah wealth and power can never warm a bed. Genuine friends cannot be bought. But, a wife can.

What w
as the chance a snot-nosed boy would find love before a man and have children? Warped or not, it was love nonetheless. His little brother even managed to produce sons from the relationship, which was a sour pill for a loveless man.

Alberti’s words had torn him through and he tried to drink away the emotional shards which stuck in his heart. He could not cry, what tears he shed had occurred in youth. Emptiness had to be filled with drink and women.

The bedroom door opened and Gina entered the dark bedroom. She looked lovely as usual, but he experienced no warmth there. “Where were you?” he asked.

“Visiting with my brother.”

“Till notte donna?”

“That is what happens when visiting my talkative brother.”

Luzo’s eyes were mean slits. “Do not forget our arrangement. The agreement includes having children, not just spending my goddamn money for dresses and parties donna!”

Gina slipped off her shoes. Luzo was upset, and she planned to appease his anger with seduction. “And that is what I will do because it is a pleasurable undertaking.”

Gingerly she removed the half-empty bottle from his hand, placed it on the floor and stood in front of her husband. She began to undress. His inebriated eyes sparkled as he watched the strip tease. Her clothes slipped away, and then she kneeled between his legs. She did not talk, instead her fingers began to work his pajama pants down his thighs. He raised his ass in assistance.

The grin from the pale woman was enticing, as were her hands massaging him with firmness. Warmth spread through his body, then.

Her mouth parted.

Her head lowered.

The heat grew as the wet tongue licked skin before sucking him hard like he needed. He was a very hard to please man.

The warmth which had been lacking became a fire.

Luzo welcomed the burning flames and desired incineration. He leaned forward and seized Gina by the waist. She gasped in joy when he rose and strolled with her to the bed and pressed her there with his body. He stared at her, searching for what Alberti said he lacked. Was it true he had improperly gardened and tended dying weeds?

In haste to burn his aching heart, he thrust
angrily inside his wife, kissed her lips closed, and drew in her saliva as she choked out moans. She wiggled, limited by Luzo’s bulk compressing her in the soft mattress as he fucked her without a whisper of affection.

Fucking does not constitute love.

Scorched by his own making he pumped the ice donna harder until she whimpered and begged for him to cease. He refused and turned her over.

He was not a fool, Gina was cunning, and so was he.

To her blonde hair he growled. “If I discover you have lied to me bella, I will kill your brothers, you, and anybody you care about!”

She gushed over his dick and shrieked as the bed rocked with his movements. Luzo did not relent until hot semen flooded his thighs. When he was done, he lay supine, and ordered his pretty wife to lick him clean
like the female dog she was.

C
HAPTER
FOURTEEN

Carlo went out and returned with fried chicken and corn on the cob from a speedy restaurant with a red and white decor. Sophie had bathed and joined Carlo at the tiny aluminum table near the curtained window.

He waited until she sat and reached for the foam plate.
“This is what Americanos call food. Mi dispiace it is not penne a la vodka.”

“Grazie, this is fine
Carlo.”

Carlo cut the greasy hard meat. One bite
, several chews and he scowled before swallowing. Santo, the taste was horrible. However, Sophie ate ravenously, unaware Carlo watched.

Thick veins protruded from Carlos’ neck. His fingers gripped harder around the fork. The meat on the prongs never reached his mouth. His appetite had fled seeing how hungry and thin Sophie had become. Angrily, he excused himself and went out for fresh air.

Two hours later he had not returned and Sophie became concerned. Every time she heard a car, she peered out the curtain to the parking lot only to sigh in disappointment. Finally, she gave up and flopped down on the hard mattress.

It was late when Carlo arrived and found her asleep. The bandage on her lower leg had come off and he saw the bite was healing, but it would leave a mark because it was not treated properly.

He smacked Sophie’s luscious bottom. “Andiamo!”

She moaned, rolled over and stretched like a feline temptress. “Where did you go bello?”

“Handsome, eh?”

“Very handsome mio Carlo,” she said sitting up.

Her hair fell in a dark silk sheet over her shoulders and Carlo grumbled. Sophie was the most beautiful woman, but he was angry she had more affection for his married brother than an honorable uomo. When he had told her earlier Luzo married Gina Bocelli, the catlike eyes could not hide the disappointment.

“Is
the handsome exterior the shallowness which drew you to my fratello?”

“That is not what drew me.”

“Then what did?”

“Many things when we were children.” She looked at Carlo. “
For one he was not mean to push me in a muddy pond. But, you are my dear friend now. I see your heart.”

“
You were brutal donna. We were children then, and I would not do such a thing to a donna.” He waved his hand for her to get up. “Vieni donna, we must go, ora. Leave nothing in the room,” he answered. He did not want friendship, or platitudes. He was not vain or hungry for empty compliments.

Sophie stood closely and he could smell the hotel soap on her skin.

She looked up at him then. “Why do you not smile bello?”

Carlo shrugged. “I am not a buffoon to smile without cause.”

Then Sophie placed a palm to his chest. “Are you angry at me?”

“Sí!” he said. The truth is what she wanted. Why give lies when asked?

“Perché?”

“
Sei arrivato a questa merda di paese
!”

“I
wanted to help a friend.”

“
And she is dead donna!”

Her hand slipped down his hard chest. Her head drooped and she walked away not wanting him to see the tears.

Carlo sighed. His remark was asinine. “Sophie, mi dispiace bella.”

The bathroom door s
lammed shut. He said nothing more and collected the evidence of their stay. He wanted nothing to connect to the crime he was soon to commit. He knocked on the door when he was ready to leave. “We must leave bella.”

The door opened and she strode past him with her head held high like a queen. Carlo smiled, but Sophie did not see.

Thirty minutes later they rolled through dry brush, deep in to a wooded area where a dilapidated shed leaned. Carlo cut the headlights. Sophie remained in the car as Carlo exited and opened the trunk. He returned with a dark sack.

He opened her door. “Come.”

She took his hand. With swift strides they were at the door and he pulled it open. Her eyes roamed around to locate the sounds of injured animals. Then Carlo retrieved a flashlight from the bag. When it was switched on and shone inside the shack her eyes widened. Tied together were the sheriff and the deputy who had released the dog. There was another man on the floor, the dried blood around his head and his mottled skin confirmed he was dead.

“These are the cazzos, sí?”

“Sí,” Sophie replied.

“Bene.” He stepped inside and closed the door. He hunched down, sat the flashlight on the floor to remove a hacksaw and an icepick from his bag. When he stood with the tools in his hand, the cowards wiggled around the floor. Their moans of fear were similar to those she heard from her friends as they were mauled by animals.

Carlo’s voice brought action to her limbs. “I will hold each one as you avenge your friend, capisce donna?”