Amore (64 page)

Giovanni shoved the shelf. It rocked back, almost pushing over. Several cans fell off. He gripped the shelves and dropped his head.

“You have to find her,” he pleaded. “No matter the cost. I’ll pay it. Whatever it takes. I’ll do it. Do I have to fucking make myself any clearer? You have to find her for me, Lo.”

“We’re trying, Gio. Are we even sure it’s the Triad? It could be Bonaduce?
N’drangheta.
We have to check everyone.”

“There’s no time! No fucking time!” Giovanni shouted at him. He put his hands to his hair. “Santo. He’s the one. He’s the fucking one! He set me up. That motherfucker! He set me up!”

“I’ll put a bullet in him myself, Gio, but we can’t jump to any conclusions. If we’re rash it could cost Mirabella her life.”

“I just handed her over to him. I’m a fucking idiot. You warned me. I didn’t listen. I fucking handed my sweet Bella over to that MOTHERFUCKER!” Giovanni shouted.

Lorenzo grabbed him by the face. Giovanni breathed hard with his teeth clenched. He shuddered with anger. “Keep it together, Gio. Now is the time to keep it together. We will bring him to you. ALIVE. Do you hear me? Just fucking keep it together.”

Giovanni shoved Lorenzo off and he was knocked into the shelf. This time it rattled and dropped cans and containers.

“Why did I let her go? I never fucking let her go! I was the one that suggested she come to the fucking fight. I did it on a whim. How did they know? How? It has to be Santo. No one kills him. You find him alive and you bring him to me,” Giovanni said.

Lorenzo nodded. “Agreed.”

“Don’t you worry,” he panted. His chest bulked with each deep intake of breath. “I’m not going mad. I’m far beyond that now.”

He pushed of the double doors and stormed out.

**

Mirabella stared at Kei. She let her vision drink him in. He had changed so dramatically, she barely saw any semblance of the man she once loved. It appeared he had lost an eye. He wore a black eye patch and had a scar that traced across his cheek to the corner of his mouth. His dark hair was longer now. And his hand was in some gruesome looking iron glove. He moved his fingers like with robotic gestures. It dripped blood. He was muscular, not the tennis athletic body he once had. He was as muscular as Giovanni. His open black silk shirt revealed an extravagant tattoo that covered it. At first glance she thought it looked like a serpent.

She glanced around the boat and then to him. “Why?”

“Is that all you have to ask me? After two years? Why?” Kei asked.

Mirabella swallowed her fear. There was pain in her head. It was a throbbing ache. She felt a trickle of something to the side of her face. It dripped to her lap. Blood. She was bleeding. The boat engine gunned and they began to move. “Why am I here?”

“You’re where you belong,” he said. A man came in and handed him a small black case. Kei spoke to the man in Chinese. He gave a single nod and the man left. Mirabella noticed the man had a shaven head with tattoos that covered his neck and hands. She imagined his entire body was covered. These were gangsters. And their detached behavior scared her.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

“So now she cares,” Kei said softly. He unzipped something with his back turned to her.

“You are a good man, Kei. I should know. I loved you for years. I wouldn’t be who I am if it weren’t for you. Why are you with these people? What are you trying to prove by doing this?” she asked. “Let me go and I won’t tell Gio. I swear it.”

He turned around with a syringe. Mirabella scooted on the sofa to get away from him. Due to her feet being bound she fell over on her side. He walked over to her.

“No! Don’t! Don’t do it!” she said. “Stay away from me!”

Kei turned her over on the sofa. Her hands were still bound behind her back but she bucked beneath him. He straddled her on the couch and pinned her down. She looked up into his face. The man who stared down at her had a hard and unforgiving, murderous glint to his eye.

“Please. Don’t do this to me, Kei! I’m begging you!”

“It’ll make you feel better,” he gave her a sly smile.

Mirabella screamed as he turned her face and pressed his hand down hard on her jaw to keep her still. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. The needle pierced her neck, and then eased in as he released the toxin. It was a hot burn. The blood in her neck sizzled. She opened her mouth in a silent cry of agony. Only seconds passed before the feeling of bliss followed. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she sighed with pleasure. All fear, anxiety, even thoughts of her babies slipped away. And then there was nothing.

Kei pulled the syringe out of her neck and sat back. She moaned for him. He missed the soft sounds of pleasure from her. He leaned over and laved her neck and then kissed it. Mirabella smiled. He eased off her.

“Bring him in,” he said to his shadow who had returned. Santo was dragged inside with his bloody jaw and mouth.

“Isabella said you are still worth something alive. So I will give you back to Giovanni. Cast him a line of bait, and Giovanni will take to the hook. I want Eve,” he said. “You will give him hope enough to bring her to me.”

Santo spat blood. He was released and dropped on his hands and knees. He lifted his head and found it hard to talk. “I can’t. They know it’s me. He’ll kill me on sight.”

“Then you convince them it’s not.” Kei knelt and grabbed Santo by the throat. He slammed his iron fist into his face twice more until he was certain his jaw was broken. He dropped him. “I am not leaving without Eve.”

Kei stood upright. “Take him as close to shore as you can then throw him over. Let him swim in.”

Santo groaned. The men didn’t wait for consent. They grabbed him as he struggled and dragged him out. Kei turned and looked at his love. She was moaning softly, lost in some deep sense of euphoria he wished he could join. He released the straps fastened to his right wrist and gently pulled at the fingers of the iron glove to take it off. He tossed it. There was some feeling in his hand. Enough for his crippled fingers to extend. Not enough to make it strong for use. However, he’d adjusted to his handicap and managed.

He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. In nothing but his trousers he walked over to the sofa seat.

“Gio?” Mirabella said softly. “Gio?”

He understood her confusion. There were many remedies for madness. Loving the wrong man was her madness. He’d cure her of it. When he was done healing her, his name would be the only one she’d whisper. He reached down and traced the side of her face with his finger. How many times had he taken her beauty for granted. Maybe if he told her he loved her more, showed her more, she would have never left him for Italy. If he had convinced her to marry then their lives would be different. He was her destiny. And she was his.

He turned her. He untied her hands. He untied her feet. She rolled over, lost in her dream. He scooped her up into his arms and she came willingly. She kissed his lips. He swept her tongue into his mouth and deepened the kiss.

“Gio,” she smiled when the kiss ended. He kissed her again. He carried her to their room.

**

The men were eating. Giovanni sat in the corner. Every time a person entered the room his gaze lifted and his heart skipped a beat with hope.

“Eat, Gio,” Mama Venditto said. He didn’t respond. She went about her task to serve the other crime bosses and replenish their drinks.

“If the Triad did this it makes no sense.” Benicia said as he forked food into his mouth. He was a sloppy eater with sauce dripping from his chin to his shirt. When he spoke his belly moved.

“Why not? They do kidnappings all the time.” Tacchi answered. He smoked on his cigar at the table. He put up his hand to stop Mama Venditto from replenishing his plate.

“Yes. But they don’t start wars unprovoked.” Benicia pointed his fork at Tacchi. “Never. And if they do go to war, it’s more territorial business, not random hits,” Benicia said.

“To come here and strike at one of us in public sends a message to everyone. It feels personal.” Tacchi looked over at Giovanni.

“Not personal. It’s a power play. What the fuck do they care about his wife?” Benicia said and forked more food into his mouth.

“What did you say?” Giovanni sat upright.

Benicia stopped chewing. The other bosses stared. Benicia picked up his napkin and dabbed at his chin. “No disrespect, Gio, I only meant—”

Giovanni grabbed the bottle of wine closest to him and smashed it over Benicia’s head. The glass exploded, and the man was thrown back in his chair. Giovanni went over the table. He grabbed a fork, and he attacked. He stabbed Benicia in the face and throat. The other bosses were either too shocked or impressed with his viciousness to respond. However, Benicia’s men were up to save their boss before the third strike of the fork gouged out Benicia’s eye. They grabbed Giovanni’s wrist and the fork dropped. It didn’t matter. He broke free of their hold and used his fist. Each time he slammed his fist into Benicia’s face he saw him. It was Kei. The Asian cockroach had stolen his Bella. He’d fucking kill him with his bare hands.

“Gio!” Dominic yelled. “Get him off!”

Men grabbed Giovanni but it may have been too late. His bloody hands were wrapped tighter than a vice around Benicia’s fat throat, and he could feel the life being squeezed out of the pig as he gagged and bled over the insult.

“Get him off!” he heard yelling. It was possibly men in Benicia’s clan too. He was dragged off, spewing curses like a mad dog. His taste for vengeance was not abated by the detainment. He’d draw his gun next. Dominic stepped in front of him.

“We’re leaving.”

**

Santo hacked and coughed up seawater. He dropped on the shore. The waves crashed over him but he was too weak to move. He swam in the dark with a dislocated shoulder, and what he prayed wasn’t a broken jaw. He swam toward the lights of the city. It would prove ironic if after all that effort he were to drown in an inch of seawater. He pushed up with his hands and nearly collapsed. He pushed up once more and heaved himself forward. Santo crawled over the sand and flopped down and over to his back.

The stars were fading in the sky. What was left of them twinkled. Or so he thought as his consciousness slipped away.

“Stop the car,” Lorenzo said.

Nico pulled the car over to the side of the road. An hour ago they joined together in the search. Lorenzo opened the car door. He stepped out into the morning breeze. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the darkness over the bay was slipping away. He could see the stretch of the beach.

“What is it?” Nico said.

“Looks like something washed ashore,” Lorenzo said. Nico walked around the car. He stopped at Lorenzo’s side.

“I don’t fucking believe it,” Nico said.

“C’mon,” he went down the grass-topped embankment sideways, standing on the beach sand. Nico struggled with his large frame. Both men drew their guns. Lorenzo hurried. He had no cover on the beach and this could be an ambush.

The clans had united. Everyone had a common enemy. But no one understood the priority of finding Mirabella over annihilating the Triad. She was their Donna. And he loved her just as much as he loved all the women in the family. They had to find her. Alive. Lorenzo saw no point in kicking in doors and dragging random immigrants from their beds in search of information. The bastards had to have used the sea to escape.

The hunch paid off. He stopped and aimed the gun down at Santo. Lorenzo looked up to big Nico, who was panting and breathing hard. “Is he dead?” Nico wheezed.

“You really need to lose some weight,” Lorenzo said. Nico dropped with his hands to his knees and wheezed in several deep breaths. Lorenzo knelt and turned Santo’s face. The scarring was brutal. It was as if his face had been shredded with a cheese grater. He could see pink gum and flesh. He put his hand to his chest. The heartbeat he felt was faint.

“Well I’ll be damn. He’s alive.” Lorenzo stood. He looked out to the ocean. “Fuck. If he came from the water they are long gone. Shit. They took her.”

Nico glanced to the ocean. “What do we do now, boss?”

“He needs to live. He’s the only one with answers. Take him. Let’s get him back to Venditto’s.”

Nico reached down and grabbed Santo by the arm and belt. He threw him over his shoulder and started walking back up the beach. Lorenzo stuck his gun in the back of his pants and followed.

**

“Is Benicia dead?” Giovanni paced. He held his bandaged hand. The doctor told him it was broken. Giovanni only accepted a pack of ice for the swelling. He had no time for them to set his knuckles. Dominic tried to convince him to leave. He refused.

“If he is we’re fucked,” Dominic said. He then pulled Giovanni to the side. “Why did you attack a clan boss in front of everyone? How does that help our cause, Gio? Mira needs us united. We need them!”

Giovanni didn’t bother to explain himself. The answer was irrelevant. Everyone knew Giovanni was close to exploding. Sitting him with those men, while forcing him to wait for news of whether Mirabella was dead or alive, was too much to ask of a husband and father. It was also a deadly mistake for a mouthy crime boss like Benicia. Of course he would unload his anger. Something had to be on the immediate receiving end of that rage. They were upstairs in the Vendittos’ home. Benicia was down the hall being cared for.