The Love Killers (19 page)

They bundled into the cars. Angelo slumped back on his seat. ‘Those guys,' he mumbled. ‘Those poor goddamn guys…'

‘Why don't you thank your skinny balls it wasn't you?' Nick said grimly. ‘It was probably meant to be.'

‘Me?' Angelo was incredulous. ‘Why me?'

‘You, me, Frank. What difference? We're all Bassalinos.'

Angelo nodded helplessly. Yes, they were all Bassalinos, and that meant anyone warring with Enzio automatically included his three sons.

‘Who do you think did—'

‘Listen kid, I don't want to talk,' Nick interrupted. ‘Sit back and relax, turn on or something, but leave me alone. I've got some thinkin' to do.' He closed his eyes. All day long he'd been trying to get his thoughts straight, and it wasn't easy. For someone who didn't drink he had one bitch of a hangover. The business with Lara had really turned him over. Jesus, she'd planned it,
wanted
him to find her in bed with that Italian piece of shit.

She was a prize bitch.

And yet…

He hoped he'd damaged the guy.

He wished he'd damaged her.

And as for April Crawford—she and Sammy Albert would soon be yesterday's news. If he
really
thought about it, they deserved each other.

Lara Crichton was something else. When the trouble was over and he could concentrate, he was going to have to do something about her. She was too special to let go.

‘I don't know why I couldn't have stayed in London,' Angelo complained, interrupting his brother's thoughts.

Before Nick could reply they both heard the explosion. It came from behind.

The car with Frank in it was behind.

Prince Alfredo Masserini had suffered a broken nose. ‘I will sue that man for every dollar he has,' he ranted from his private hospital bed, his perfect Roman nose encased in a plaster cast.

‘You don't know who he is,' Lara remarked calmly.

Prince Alfredo swore hotly in Italian, then said, ‘Lara, you are being a very stupid girl. I thought perhaps there was a future for us together, but now…' He shrugged, trailing off.

Lara got up from the chair beside the bed and nodded. ‘You're right, Alfredo. You really are.' She walked toward the door. She'd had enough of him and his whining. News of April Crawford's surprise marriage to Sammy Albert was all over the papers. What was Nick doing? Thinking? Was he destroyed?

‘Where are you going?' Alfredo demanded imperiously.

She shook her head. ‘Paris, maybe. The Bahamas. I don't know.'

‘You wait here a few days,' he said, condescendingly. ‘I will forgive you. We go somewhere together.'

‘Ah, but I don't want to be forgiven,' she replied, her green eyes bright. ‘I'm not a child, Alfredo. The truth is, I'm sorry about your nose. I'm sorry about everything. It's just best we don't see each other again.'

‘Lara!' He was shocked. ‘What do you mean? I have waited these last weeks, I have made certain plans for us. My mother, she looks forward to meeting you. We ski first, then on to Rome, where I will present you to my family.'

‘No,' she said firmly. ‘It's over.' She left the room, hardly listening as he burst into a stream of angry Italian.

As she walked down the corridor she felt completely blank. Nothing mattered, nothing at all. She was very tired, and the only thought that appealed to her was to climb into bed, bury herself beneath the covers, and sleep. Maybe for days.

She wished the impossible. She wished she had Margaret to talk things over with.

Outside she climbed into her chauffeured car and closed her eyes. ‘My apartment,' she instructed the driver.

‘The city's goin' mad,' he informed her. ‘There's hoodlums runnin' wild blowin' each other up. It ain't safe drivin' no more.'

Lara wasn't really listening. She was already drifting into sleep.

* * *

There was no body to identify. No body to bury. Frank Bassalino had been blown into a thousand little pieces. Two people innocently standing near the car were killed; many more were injured as the blast blew out all the windows in nearby office buildings and shards of glass came showering down. Nick didn't hang around. He took it all in at a glance and knew Frank had no chance. Thinking quickly, he hauled Angelo out of their own car and, holding him tightly by the arm, marched him away from the wreckage.

Angelo was too shaken to talk. Nick moved fast; they were three blocks away when several police cars zoomed past.

When Nick was sure they weren't being followed he hailed a cab and told the driver to get them to the airport as speedily as possible.

‘Somebody's going to get his balls sledge hammered for this,' he said at last. ‘And I am gonna do it.
I'm
gonna cut his fuckin' balls off and string them up for salami.'

Angelo was a nervous wreck. ‘Who did it?' he asked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

‘We'll find out,' Nick replied grimly. ‘We always find out. Nobody gets away with killing a Bassalino.'

‘You're beginning to sound like Enzio.'

‘I hope so, little brother. I really hope so.'

* * *

Rio Java flew into New York and saw the headlines.

She went straight to Cass's apartment. Dukey was already there. ‘Did you arrange it?' she asked.

He made a vague gesture. ‘Maybe I did, an' maybe I didn't. We're not the only ones who want to see the Bassalinos go down.'

‘Well, don't touch Angelo—he's mine. Understand, brother?'

‘Sure,' he agreed. ‘If you get to him first.'

‘I don't have to get to him. I just want to destroy him. Isn't that supposed to be the plan?'

Dukey nodded. ‘That was before. Things are different now.'

‘What do you mean, things are different now?'

‘Let's just call it a little racial problem and leave it at that.'

‘Racial problem my ass!' she exploded.

‘Listen,' he said angrily. ‘You had your chance, an' you blew it. Now it's my turn.'

‘Oh,' she said coldly, ‘you mean I'm supposed to drop everything on account of what
you
say.'

‘Clever girl.'

‘Don't call
me
girl, asshole.'

‘Beth and Lara are already out,' Cass interrupted quickly, looking to avoid a fight. ‘I think Dukey's right, Rio.'

Rio turned on her. ‘Oh, do you? Well, fuck you, too.'

Dukey's eyes were hard and cold. ‘Shame you're not black.'

‘I'm multicolored,' she said acidly. ‘It's more fun.'

‘You're just pissed you can't play any more of your mind games.'

‘I can do what I like, Dukey. And don't you forget it.'

He nodded in agreement. ‘Sure, babe. Only don't do it near the Bassalinos, 'cos your long, skinny, multicolored ass gonna get blown all the way to hell an' back. Okay, babe?'

Mary Ann August smiled at Claire, and Claire said, ‘Honey, you've really surprised me. Things are working out fine. Mr. Forbes was very pleased today, and for Mr. Forbes to be pleased—well, that's really a compliment.'

‘He promised he'll be back soon,' Mary Ann said, stretching her arms above her head so the short, white nightgown she wore pulled up, exposing a fine matting of pale-coffee-colored pubic hair.

Claire's eyes wandered down to take a peek. No trouble with this one. Some girls were born to be whores.

Mary Ann flopped back on the bed, parting her thighs. ‘Gee, Claire, I wish I could take a walk,' she said innocently. I'm really cheesed about being shut in all the time. I need fresh air.'

‘Next week,' Claire promised.

Mary Ann pouted. ‘You
can
trust me, I'm not going to run off. I
like
it here. I like you…' She threw her captor a long, lingering look.

Claire moved nearer the bed. ‘You're a smart girl. No trouble. A girl like you can make a lot of money if you want to. Now that we've fixed your hair you look so pretty.'

Mary Ann smiled. ‘Enzio wouldn't like it this way.'

Claire sat down on the bed and casually ran her fingers up Mary Ann's leg, heading toward the fuzz. ‘Enzio's not going to have to like it, is he?'

Mary Ann giggled, spreading her legs apart. ‘Are you a dyke, Claire?' she asked, licking her lips.

The pressure of Claire's fingers hardened. ‘I've seen too many potbellies and limp hard-ons to be anything else.' A pause. ‘Have you ever tried it?'

Mary Ann giggled again. ‘Mr. Forbes couldn't make me come. I told him a little head would do the trick, but Mr. Forbes said that was
my
job.'

Claire bent down slowly, her eyes bright. ‘Mr. Forbes must be screwy in the mind.'

Mary Ann sighed and lay back, ready to enjoy the ministrations of Claire.

Five minutes passed. Soon Claire was thoroughly engrossed in the task at hand.

Carefully Mary Ann reached under the bed and got a firm grip on the chair leg she'd hidden there earlier. She then raised her upper body until she could see the top of Claire's close-cropped head. She moaned, causing Claire to increase her efforts. Then slowly, so as not to disturb anything, she raised the chair leg and smashed it down heavily on Claire's head. Once, twice, three times.

There was blood as Claire slumped to the floor, and Mary Ann was sorry about that. But she certainly had no intention of being locked up and forced into the life of a prostitute. Oh, no. Oh, dear me, no. Not Mary Ann August. Not after she had worked hard and put up with Enzio Bassalino for all those months. She had jewelry, clothes, and two fur coats. She had possessions worth money—enough money that, if she sold them, she could go back to the small town in Texas she hailed from and buy herself a nice little business. A boutique, perhaps, or maybe a beauty parlor. She had known her time with Enzio was not a permanent thing and had planned accordingly.

Dressing hurriedly, she took money and keys from Claire's pocketbook.

Mary Ann August had possessions—and son of a bitch, she was going to get them.

By the next day the house in Miami was buzzing with activity. There was a meeting in progress.

Enzio sat behind his desk, his eyes red-rimmed, shoulders slumping heavily. Beside him stood Nick, doing most of the talking, words coming hard and fast.

Enzio appeared to have aged ten years as he listened to his middle son, occasionally nodding to let the room crowded with men know he was in agreement with everything Nick said.

Angelo hunched in a chair nearby. He was scared, and it showed. His face was white, and his hand was unsteady as he gulped mouthfuls of Scotch from a large tumbler. What he really needed was to get good and truly stoned. A few joints would calm him down and stop the shaking. Only he couldn't turn on in front of Enzio. His father didn't approve of drugs.

Nick was surprisingly cool as he issued instructions. He wanted information, and he wanted it fast. He offered a ten-thousand-dollar reward for the right information.

When the meeting was over the men dispersed.

‘Rose,' Enzio mumbled. ‘For Christ's sake, somebody's got to tell her.'

Angelo buried himself in his drink. His mother scared the shit out of him. She always had. Frank was her favorite, and Nick seemed to make out okay, but to Angelo she'd always been crazy Rose.

‘I'll tell her,' said Nick, saving Angelo any excuses. He could communicate with his mother if she was in a good mood. Sometimes he was even able to get her to summon up a faint smile from her otherwise dead face. ‘I'll go see her now.'

* * *

Rose sat in her usual chair by the window, gazing out.

Nick crept up behind her and squeezed her shoulders ‘Ciao, Mama.' He was shocked at how thin she seemed.

Rose looked up at him without a flicker of surprise, nodding slightly, even though it was over a year since she'd seen him.

“I'm sorry it's been so long, Mama,' he said. ‘You know how it is. I've been busy out on the Coast. You look great, you really do.'

Nick could remember his mother before she had locked herself away. He recalled her startling beauty, vivacious personality, and the way she used to make friends so easily.

He also remembered the night it all happened. He was sixteen and out on a date. When he'd returned home Alio met him at the door and told him his mother was sick. ‘You're to stay at my place tonight,' Alio had said. ‘Angelo and the nanny are already there.' Alio hadn't even let him into the house to get his toothbrush.

For two weeks he wasn't allowed home, and when he finally was, he found his mother had locked herself away, refusing to speak to any of them. She kept up her silence for several years, until Enzio moved them all to the Miami mansion. There she staked out her room overlooking the pool and never emerged, although she did deign to speak to her sons occasionally.

‘Frank's dead,' Nick blurted out. ‘It was an… accident.'

Rose spun around and stared at him. She still had the most magnificent eyes he'd ever seen. They could burn a hole in you, they were so deep and bright. Her eyes spoke for her; they begged him to tell her more.

‘Uh… I don't know much. He was in a limo. There was an explosion…' He put his arms around his mother. What more could he say?

‘Enzio,' she muttered accusingly.
‘Basta!
'

And then there was silence.

‘Strike before they strike back.' Those were the orders Leroy Jesus Bauls received from Dukey K. Williams. Which was why he was now on the road to Miami. It was a long drive, but it would have been too dangerous to fly with the equipment he needed. All the security at airports today, luggage being searched and people being frisked. He wouldn't have gotten anywhere near a plane.