The Good Daughter (27 page)

Sandro felt little sympathy. “I lost my son. My wife.” Everything was getting worse, spiraling out of control.

“
We’ll get them back.”

“
No, I’ll get them back.”

“
You can’t go against them alone.”

“
I won’t be alone. You will help. And if you make one more mistake to risk my family, I will kill you.”

“
Calm down, Sandro,” Frankie ordered.

“
Let me go,” Sandro demanded.

The men holding him waited until Dave nodded before releasing Sandro’s arms.

He walked to Marisa, who turned her attention from Dave to face Sandro. Her wide-eyed gaze locked with his. With sure movements, Sandro lifted her Florentine cross necklace and jerked. The chain broke off in his hand.

She barely twitched.

Sanity returning, more mindful of the people who were watching the drama unfold, he spoke to her in Italian. “You are my prisoner now,
Principessa
.” He smoothed her hair, pleaded with his eyes to soften the blow. “I know you want away from your father, but your freedom may have to be sacrificed.”

“
I understand.” She didn’t blink.

“
No,” Dave said, after Frankie quietly translated what Sandro had said. “That’s not acceptable.”

Sandro approached Dave, not stopping until he was face-to-face with the taller man. “Then you better make sure everything works just right, Dave. Because I will sacrifice whoever is necessary to rescue my family.”

A disembodied female voice came over the loud speakers in the waiting room then. “It is now visiting time in ICU. Please limit your visits to no more than two people at a time. Visits will be limited to fifteen minutes. Thank you.”

Sandro stepped away from Dave. “Which room?” he asked Frankie.

“
Come on, I’ll take you.”

“
When I return, we will talk more,” Sandro told Dave and Marisa.

Frankie and Sandro walked out together, the other two people who had been in the waiting room following at a safe distance, off to see their own friends or family members after having witnessed the unfolding drama.

Marisa wondered about the tragedies in those people’s families. Wondered if humankind was destined to suffer together forever. She shuddered.

Dave took her hand. “You okay?”

“
Si
, I am fine. But you look like shit. Sit down and wait here.” She went to the small waiting room restroom and wet some paper towels.

She wiped at the dried blood on his face, trying not to grimace. “Looks like it hurts.”

“
Hurts like hell,” Dave agreed, talking like he had a bad cold. He gingerly touched his swollen nose. “Feels like it’s three times bigger than normal. I can imagine what it must look like.”

She tilted her head, then chose not to comment. “I can go to the cafeteria, get some ice,” she offered.

“
No, stay with me. I don’t want you out of my sight.”

Marisa nodded and dabbed at the blood that had dripped onto his shirt. “I don’t think there is much we can do for this shirt while you are still wearing it.”

“
I’ve got a change of clothes in my car. It’ll be fine until then.”

“
I am sorry.” She laid her fingers against his face, his cheek warm beneath her touch.

“
I can’t blame him,” Dave admitted. “Now, if he hurts you--”

“
I understand. He has no choice.”

“
Yes, there must be a choice. I won’t let you be sacrificed.”

“
I will pray that everything will work out right.” She reached for her necklace, then remembered Sandro had it. She let her hand drop as tears welled in her eyes. “I never take it off,” she whispered uselessly.

“
I know.” Dave pulled her into his arms. “I’ll get it back for you,” he promised. “I’ll get it back.”

* * *

Tubes and wires ran out of every part of Giuseppe’s body. Sandro’s uncle looked pale and frail and a little out-of-this-world against the stark white sheets and steel-and-tile room. The whole experience reminded Sandro eerily of death and he wanted his uncle out of this place. He wanted him back healthy and laughing and arguing with the head chef. Sandro vowed to make it happen.

He bent close, ignoring the antiseptic smell. “Beppe, it’s Sandro. Wake up,
Zio
.”

At Sandro’s command, Giuseppe slowly opened his eyes. His normally sparkling green eyes looked dull and lifeless. “Sandro--” He clenched his eyes shut as if a spasm of pain hit him.

Sandro was alarmed. “Do you need a
dottore
?”

“
Daniele. They took our little Daniele.”

Sandro gently squeezed his uncle’s hand. “I will get him back,
Zio
. I promise you. I will get him back.”

Chapter 23

“
Wake up,
Bella
.”

“
Hm?” Nia fought against the voice urging her from the sweet escape of sleep.

“
You see, I told you she is so tired.”

“
You are very generous, Angie, since she tried to take you out with a flower vase.”

The new voice snapped her eyes open. How could she have slept in that damned chair--hands and feet bound, even if her feet were propped up on the desk?

“
I would have done no less in her position.”

“
More likely, you’d have killed the person. Ah, now she’s awake.”

Nia eyed Carlo warily. He was dressed in an Italian designer suit, same as Angie. Instead of a tie, Carlo wore his pale blue shirt with the top button open to expose a gold cross necklace resting in his dark chest hairs. Trimmer than Angie, Carlo had a hard-edge, air-of-vanity around him.

“
Good evening,
Signora
Crocetti.” His voice was heavily accented.

Her voice held contempt. “So, you’ve decided to show your--”

“
Bella.
”

She shot Angie a look. Caught the pleading in his eyes. Carlo must truly be powerful to make a big man like Angie so nervous. She bit back her insults.

“
She looks worse than you, Angie.”

“
I told you Mikey roughed her up good.”

“
Dear cousin Mikey. I told him she was a guest. But no manners. That side of the family always was a rude bunch.”

“
Rude?” Nia burst out angrily, drawing Carlo’s attention back to her. She couldn’t hold her tongue as Angie cautioned. Too much had happened. “You call what Mikey did to me rude? Untie me for five minutes, and I’ll show you rude.”

“
Bella
!”

Carlo waved Angie off. “I’ve already seen some of your handiwork,” he said to her nodding toward Angelo. “And I was told you broke Mikey’s wrist. I believe I will pass on a sample for myself.”

“
I’m glad his wrist is broken,” she said. “If I see him again, I’ll break his head.”

“
She is very good at breaking heads,” Angie commented rubbing his, obviously trying to dispel the palpable tension.

Carlo smiled. “Too late for you to have the pleasure, I’m afraid.”

He could mean one of two things. One, that she wouldn’t have a chance to get at Mikey again because she was going to die, or two . . . it was too late because Mikey was already--

“
Yes, I see you understand,” Carlo said. “Mikey met with an unfortunate accident. A gun to his head.” He made a gun image with his forefinger and thumb.

That he seemed to read her mind gave her chills. “You had him killed because he beat me up?”

“
I had him killed because he didn’t follow my orders.”

The cold grew within her. Just like that, Mikey displeased Carlo, and he was dead. Just like that, a man was an unlucky witness, and he was dead. How many others had been murdered? Would be murdered?

“
Man, if you kill all your employees who screw up, your turnover rate must be sky high.” She was really too tired to think of minding her mouth.

Angie made a funny noise, and at a glance, Nia saw him frantically shaking his head at her. But her attention quickly refocused on Carlo who was approaching her. He pulled up a chair before her, diamond and gold rings glittering on his well-manicured fingers. She wondered how much blood was on those fingers.

“
Si, Signora
Crocetti,” he said softly, his flat eyes blinking like a shark. Cold, dead eyes. “Sometimes my turnover rate is sky high as you say. But it’s a peculiar thing, there is always someone waiting to take their place. Ready to follow my every command. And is it for the money? No. It is for the power, the prestige, they get from being a part of the Peruzzo family.”

Nia realized she was dealing with something way outside her realm of existence. Something sinister and evil. These people didn’t have any sense of right and wrong other than what they deemed fell within that realm. How did Sandro, someone so honorable and upstanding, ever get involved with these people?

Worse, would she and Sandro die because of these warped men?

No!

That was defeatist thinking, and she wouldn’t be defeated.

“
My mistake,” she said. “I didn’t realize there were so many sleazebuckets in the world.”

Carlo laughed as he stood back up. “Angie, I don’t think she likes us.”

“
You can’t blame me, can you? You haven’t exactly rolled out the red carpet for me here.” She tried to lift her tied hands and feet to make her point.

“
Ah, you don’t like the bindings? Or is it the surroundings?” He indicated the sparsely furnished office with its bare wood and glass walls and cold concrete floor. “You started out in a nice country house. Who wouldn’t have loved it? But you kept running off, determined not to accept our hospitality. So,
Signora
Crocetti, you can say you brought your circumstances upon yourself.”

“
Forgive me if I find your logic skewed.”

Still chuckling, Carlo told Angie, “She is very much like my Marisa,
si
?”

“
Who’s Marisa?” Nia played carefully dumb, though she was pretty sure she knew.

He pulled out his wallet, removed a picture. “My daughter.”

Nia kept her face blank, although the picture was clearly of the woman who was with Sandro--

“
You know her?” Carlo was as perceptive as ever.

Her instincts screamed that Marisa was somehow helping Sandro. “No, I don’t know her personally,” Nia answered truthfully. “But I’ve seen her at the restaurant.” That much was true as well.

Sandro was a faithful husband. The only reasonable explanation was that Marisa, for whatever reason, was helping him. Surely that gave Sandro an edge to have the Mafia don’s daughter helping him. Nia just had to make certain not to reveal what she knew. Or thought she knew.

Carlo was still probing her with a look that said he wasn’t certain he believed her. She had to change the subject.

“
Tell me, since I’m here for this enforced vacation, what do you want from my husband?”

“
To talk to him of course.”

“
Of course. Ever heard of a telephone?”

Carlo turned to Angie and smiled. “I like her.” He faced her again. “To answer your question, telephones are so impersonal, especially when there’s business to discuss.”

“
I can see how a gun wouldn’t reach through the phone lines.”

“
You think I want to kill your husband?”

Nia tossed him a phony coy look. “I don’t think you went to all this trouble so you could invite him to dinner.”

“
I love your husband like a son. Yet--”

“
You’re crazy! I’ve never heard him mention you.”

Carlo’s eyes narrowed. “Now, you are being rude.” He adjusted his suit jacket. “As I said, I loved him and yet he was set to betray me. Of course, if he apologizes, I may forgive him.”

“
Betray? Apologize? I’m not following you.”

“
We are in business together.”

“
Sandro’s not in business with you!”

“
Of course he is. With the
ristorante
.”

“
No. I was there at the lawyer’s office when all the legal work was done. You have no connections to our restaurant. I know you frequently eat there, but you certainly don’t own part--” She broke off. “Oh, God. You’re laundering money through our restaurant. How?” She shook her head. “That makes no sense. Sandro would never agree.”

“
You never know what makes a man say yes, do you?”

“
I know Sandro. You must have threatened him somehow . . . threatened us. That’s it, isn’t it? You threatened his family.”

“
Threats. Now, that is such an ugly concept,
signora
. I just presented a business proposal that was mutually agreeable to us. He couldn’t refuse.”