Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge (27 page)

“I’ve met an American woman I like,” he muttered.

Now why had he told her that? She didn’t deserve any information about his life.

“Who is she?” Dominique asked, quick to pounce.

“Nobody you know,” he responded vaguely.

“I’m fond of Tin Lee. She’s young and pretty. She’ll make a good mother for your children. I’m ready for grandchildren, Alex. You’re depriving me.”

It was always about her. “Hey, Ma,” he said roughly. “I got news for you. Tin Lee ain’t in the running.”

Dominique gave him a crushing look. “It’s time you grew up, Alex.”

“No,” he exploded. “It’s time you minded your own fucking business and left me alone.”

And with that he got up and walked out.

Lucky was on her way inside from the pool, when Inca, the housekeeper, ran from the house, flapping her hands in the air.

“Miss Lucky! Miss Lucky!” she yelled hysterically. “Important telephone!”

“Calm down, Inca. What is it?”

“Miss Lucky—come quick! Come quick! The man on the phone—he say Mr. Gino—he’s been shot.”

EVER SINCE THE NIGHT AT MICHEL’S APARTMENT
,
Brigette had managed to avoid seeing him or Robertson. It hadn’t been easy, but somehow or other she’d done it.

The photo session for the cover of
MONDO
had gone well. Antonio had behaved himself—in fact, he was quite charming in a “gay Italian star photographer” way. Score one for Brigette.

Parker had been most impressed. “He sees stardom in your future,” she’d informed her. “Otherwise he’d shred you with his Cuisinart tongue—adorable little queen that he is.”

After the Antonio session she’d spent several days doing a series of promotional photos for the Rock ’n’ Roll Jeans campaign with Luke. He was a delight to work with; the more she got to know him, the more comfortable she felt in his presence.

Nona kept on mentioning that Michel wanted to get together. She’d nodded and said, “Yeah, sure, we’ll do it.” But she never allowed Nona to pin her down to a date.

She refused to attend Nona’s parents’ party. Instead, she stayed with her grandmother, Charlotte, for a few days in her Park Avenue apartment.

It was not an enjoyable experience. Charlotte was a social shark. All she did was attend numerous parties, luncheons, and spend the rest of her time shopping for an even more extensive wardrobe. It wasn’t Brigette’s scene.

Without telling anyone, she found a realtor and rented her own apartment. “I’m moving out,” she informed Nona over breakfast the next day.

Nona put down the
New York Times
. “You’re doing
what
?”

“It doesn’t work—you, me, and Zan living together.”

“Why not?”

“I need to be by myself.”

“If that’s what you want…” Nona said unsurely, thinking that since Brigette had signed the big jeans contract, she’d changed.

Brigette was disappointed that Isaac hadn’t come through with a gun. She called him. “Well?” she demanded aggressively. “What’s happening?”

“Hey—girl, cool it—I’m tryin’….”

“Either you can get it or you can’t,” she said flatly.

“I might have somethin’ by tonight. Wanna meet?”

“Okay,” she agreed, surprising herself.

There was no reason for her to sit alone in her apartment when she could go out and have a good time.

She was ruined goods anyway. Whatever she did—it didn’t matter anymore.

School made Santo physically sick. He hated everything about it—the students, the teachers, the work; as far as he was concerned, everybody was shit. Whenever possible, he cut class and roamed around Westwood, visiting the movie theaters, catching all the latest films. What did grades matter anyway? He had plenty of money—one of these days when his mother dropped, he’d inherit everything.

Sometimes he fantasized about what life would be like after Donna was gone. He’d have the big house, the cars, the money. He’d be able to do whatever he liked.

Of course, if George was still around, he’d be a problem. The ideal situation would be for the two of them to go together. In fact, he wouldn’t mind blowing them away himself—taking a shotgun and zooming the two of them into oblivion.

He had a gun—a Luger pistol he’d bought from a boy at school who was desperate for money. He kept it hidden under his mattress along with a box of bullets. Anything was available at school, at lunch break the school yard was a virtual bazaar of drugs, weapons, porno magazines, and videos.

Mohammed, the nephew of an Arab potentate, was a one-man pharmacy. He could supply anything—Quaaludes, Valium, Librium, Halcion, coke, speedballs, grass. Another boy, son of an action-movie star, was into weapons—Uzis, pistols, semiautomatics. He was capable of filling any order.

“I wanna buy a shotgun,” Santo told him.

“You got it,” the boy said. “Gimme a coupla days.”

A shotgun would be useful to have, then maybe one night, when George came home late from one of his business trips, he’d go downstairs and blow the miserable old bastard away.

Jeez, Ma—sorry. Mistook him for an intruder
.

That would settle George—get him out of the way permanently.

Mohammed was busy doling out drugs in a corner of the yard. Santo sidled over, scoring his weekly supply of grass. “Gimme some coke, too,” he requested.

“Didn’t know you were into coke,” Mohammed said, his Middle Eastern face impassive. He didn’t do drugs himself, only sold them.

“Figured I’d try something stronger.”

“Something stronger?” Mohammed said, stroking his chin. “Smoke heroin, s’better than crack.”

“Never tried either.”

“Then it’s time. Girls get off on it.”

“I’m buying a Ferrari,” Santo boasted, hoping to impress.

Mohammed nodded. “Nice wheels. Got one myself.”

Santo said, “Yeah. Beats the shit outta my Corvette.”

Mohammed said, “We gotta go drag racing one day.”

“Yeah,” Santo agreed.

His first friend. It felt good.

Once a week, at a prearranged time, Donna’s brother, Bruno, phoned to assure her everything was all right. This week he hadn’t called, and Donna was nervous.

The thought of Lennie escaping always lurked in the back of her mind. Even though she knew it was unlikely, because the caves were like a maze—impossible to get out of if you didn’t know the way. And even if he
did
escape, he was too far from anywhere to summon help.

Still…Bruno not calling was worrisome.

Just as she was beginning to panic, Furio phoned to inform her that Bruno had been in a car accident, but she was not to worry, that he, Furio, was taking care of everything while Bruno was in the hospital with a broken arm and leg.

Talking to her lost love was strange. She remembered him so vividly, and yet he had no connection to the woman she was today.

She had an empire. Furio had nothing. The love they’d once shared no longer existed.

She was still flush from her triumph over Lucky Santangelo. Sitting in Lucky’s office and firing her had been one of the best moments she’d ever experienced.

Lucky, who considered herself such a winner, was a winner no more. Donna had reduced her to a loser in every way.

She’d taken her husband.

She’d taken her studio.

And today she was taking her father.

Yes, revenge—Sicilian style—was extremely sweet.

IT WAS UNBELIEVABLE. GINO HAD BEEN SHOT
.

As soon as Lucky established what had happened, and found out that Maria was unhurt and safely in police custody, she raced to the hospital, desperately trying to contact Paige on the car phone—reaching her at last and telling her to get to the hospital as fast as possible.

When she arrived, Gino was being wheeled into surgery. “Ohmigod!” she exclaimed, leaning over the gurney taking him into the emergency operating room. “Daddy…Daddy…”

Gino had the strength of a horse; he was still alive and talking. “The bastards…finally…got…me,” he gasped in a strange, gurgly voice.

She clutched his hand, running alongside the gurney. “
Who
finally got you?” she asked urgently. “Tell me who?”

“Dunno,” he mumbled. “I’m an old man. Thought the wars were long over…” He trailed off, unable to continue. Blood bubbled from a corner of his mouth, trickling down his chin.

She tried to remain calm. “Where was he hit?” she asked the doctor.

“Missed his heart by a fraction of an inch,” the doctor replied. “The other bullet’s in his thigh.”

Her throat was dry with the fear of losing him, but she said it anyway. “Will he make it?”

“We’ll do our best.”

What if their best wasn’t good enough?

What if her father died?

It was unthinkable.

She left the hospital and broke all records driving to the police station to fetch Maria. Her little daughter was sitting forlornly in a corner of the precinct room, thumb stuck firmly in her mouth, eyes wide with fright, clutching the leash of a frisky Labrador puppy. “Mommy, Mommy!” she cried, jumping up when she spotted Lucky. “Bad man shot Grandpa! Baaad!”

“I know, sweetie, I know,” she said, picking Maria up and hugging her tight. “How did it happen?” she said, turning to the policeman on duty.

“Our report says Mr. Santangelo was walking to his car in the open parking lot of the shopping mall. According to eyewitnesses, a man came from out of nowhere and fired two shots at him. Then the perpetrator took off in an unmarked car and a shopkeeper called the police.”

“Was it a robbery?”

“This kind of random crime happens all the time.”

“Was it a robbery?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

She turned to leave.

“Uh, ma’am,” the cop called after her. “Detective Rollins would like to speak to you.”

“Not now,” she said. “I’m on my way back to the hospital. Have him contact me tomorrow.”

Her mind was considering all possibilities. First Lennie’s death, then the loss of her studio, now Gino getting shot. This was starting to look like more than just a run of bad luck. Something was going on, and she was determined to find out what.

She drove Maria back to the house, made sure she was all right, then left her and the new puppy with Cee Cee and immediately rushed back to the hospital, where Gino was still in surgery.

Paige was huddled on a seat in the corridor, her face streaked with tears. She stood up as soon as she saw Lucky and clung to her. “Why would anyone shoot my Gino?” she sobbed.

“Nobody seems to know, Paige.” She hesitated before continuing. “Uh…was he involved in any new business dealings?”

Paige shook her head.

“Do you know if he has any enemies?”

“The police were here asking the same thing.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That he’s an old man who loves his garden.”

“Right,” Lucky said thoughtfully. She knew what Gino would say if he were around.
You heard of criminal justice, kiddo? You know what that means? Justice for the freakin’ criminals. You gotta keep the cops out of it. We’ll deal with it ourselves
.

Ah, yes, he’d taught her well. The police would never catch the man who’d shot him; therefore, it was up to her to track him down.

If he lived, she’d have the strength.

If he didn’t…

After what seemed like an eternity, the doctor emerged from surgery. He had gray hair and hangdog bushy eyebrows. At least he looked capable, not like some slick-haired TV actor.

Lucky tried to read his face as he approached. Was it good news? Bad? She couldn’t tell. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself and stood up to greet him, for Paige was immobile.

“We were able to remove both bullets,” the doctor said in a deep, sonorous voice. “However, there was
considerable loss of blood, and due to your father’s age…”

Her stomach dropped. She was icy cold with the fear of losing him.

Gino…Daddy…I love you so much….

Paige suddenly sprang into action. “Is he alive?” she cried, jumping to her feet.

“Yes,” the doctor said. “Depending on his constitution, there’s a possibility he’ll pull through. I advise you not to get your hopes up. We’ll do our best.”

Their best might not be good enough, then what? Lucky knew Gino couldn’t live forever, but she’d never imagined the end would come with an assassin’s bullet.

“He’ll make it,” she said, a determined thrust to her jaw. “Gino’s strong.”

“I hope so,” the doctor said, his eyes revealing that he didn’t think so.

“When can we see him?” Lucky asked.

“He’s in recovery now. We’ll keep him there for a few hours. If all goes well, we’ll transfer him to intensive care later. You can visit him then.”

Lucky took her stepmother’s arm. “C’mon,” she said, noticing how pale Paige looked. “I’m taking you home for an hour.”

Paige shook her head. “I’m not leaving,” she said stubbornly. “I have to stay close to Gino in case he needs me.”

Lucky understood. “Okay, I’ll be back soon. Is there anything I can get you?”

“No, nothing.”

Lucky hurried from the hospital, her mind in overdrive. As soon as she got in her car, she picked up the phone and called Cee Cee. “I’m on my way home,” she said. “Try to reach Boogie on his pager. When he calls back, keep him on hold until I get there.”

Gino’s words repeated in her head. Thought the wars were long over…

What did he mean?
What
wars? He’d made a certain amount of enemies over the years, but that was long ago. Gino had been a legitimate businessman for at least thirty years. They’d had a lifelong battle with the Bonnatti family, but when Carlos Bonnatti had fallen from the nineteenth floor of his Century City penthouse, the battle was finally over, for Carlos was the last of the Bonnattis.

She couldn’t get a handle on it. Who would want to shoot an old man?

Hmm…she thought, maybe the police were right and it
was
a random crime, a robbery gone wrong.

Only what were they robbing Gino of? He was an old man driving a station wagon, accompanied by a child and a puppy. He was hardly a potential victim dressed the way he was, in casual shorts and a shirt. He wasn’t even wearing a watch.

As she drove toward the house, it occurred to her that Gino might not be safe in the hospital. Should she put a guard on him? If it
wasn’t
a random crime, and somebody
had
been out to get him, they’d be monitoring his progress. Yes, it would be prudent to have somebody at the hospital and another armed guard at the house, especially as her children were alone with only Cee Cee and Inca to protect them.

She shuddered when she thought of what could have happened. If Maria had gotten in the line of fire…If the bullet had smashed into her little girl…

It didn’t bear thinking about.

Cee Cee greeted her at the door. “I gave Maria a mild sedative and put her to bed.”

“How’s she been?” Lucky asked anxiously.

“The puppy kept her distracted.”

Lucky sighed. “I guess she’s too young to understand what really happened.” Cee Cee agreed. “Did Boogie call back yet?”

“He’s waiting on the line.”

Lucky hurried into the library, sat behind Gino’s desk, and picked up the phone.

“I had to be sure of my facts before I contacted you,” Boogie said.

“Forget it, Boog, Gino’s been shot.”

“
What?
”

“He’s in recovery. They removed two bullets. I want guards at the hospital and at the house. Arrange it immediately.”

“It’s done, Lucky. I’m on my way there. I have a lot to tell you.”

“Everything else can wait,” she said. What did her studio matter when her father was lying in the hospital battling for his life?

She put down the phone and methodically began opening the drawers of Gino’s desk, searching for a clue—some indication that he was involved in any kind of business venture.

There was nothing to be found except a pile of betting sheets. She picked one up and studied it. Gino enjoyed betting on basketball, two hundred here, three hundred there—he’d never been a big gambler; after all, he’d owned hotels in Vegas and seen how recklessly people could lose their money.

So…it wasn’t like they were after him for an unpaid gambling debt, this was minor stuff.

Inca knocked on the door. “Miss Lucky,” she said hesitantly, “there’s a Detective Rollins here.”

“Show him in.”

Detective Rollins was a balding middle-aged man with an unfortunate smirk. He spoke in a gruff voice. “Sorry about your father,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “You
are
Lucky Santangelo?”

“That’s right,” she replied, wondering how he knew her name.

“I’ve been looking up the family history,” he said with a smug little sneer. “Thought there might be something you wanna share with me.”

“Like what?” she said blankly, drumming her fingers on the desk.

Detective Rollins shrugged. “You know…”

“
What?
” she repeated, fast losing patience with this jerk.

He managed to wipe the smirk off his face long enough to say, “If this is a mob hit, we don’t appreciate it around here. This is a quiet community.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” she said sharply, black eyes flashing.

He moved closer, leaning across the desk, his big, fat fingers splayed across the dark wood.

“I’m talking about your family’s reputation. I got a file on the Santangelos from the FBI.”

She was outraged. “My father’s lying in the hospital, and all you can do is get files from the FBI. Why aren’t you out finding the man who shot him?”

The sneer was back. “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me who that might be.”

She jumped up. “I don’t believe this!” she exclaimed angrily. “My father isn’t
connected
in any way, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“C’mon, Lucky,” he said, like she was the biggest liar he’d ever come across.

“Miz Santangelo to you,” she said icily.

The detective shifted his weight and glared at her. “Okay,
Miz
Santangelo, your father has a rap sheet. He fled the country on tax avoidance. He’s done jail time for murder. You wanna tell me this wasn’t mob related?”

She hated this man, he was a moron. “If you were doing your job, you’d be telling
me
what happened. Not making dumb assumptions.”

He backed off. “Okay, okay, I know you people went legit years ago, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have enemies.”

Yeah, right, like she’d tell
him
. “Detective Rollins, if that’s all you have to say, I suggest you leave.”

He walked to the door and stopped. “If Gino comes out of this, we’ll be watching him,” he said, wagging a warning finger at her.

“Fuck you,” she said.

“Yeah, you’re a Santangelo, all right,” he sneered.

She slammed the door behind him. She didn’t need some moronic detective poking his long nose into their affairs. Everything was legitimate, and had been for years. It wasn’t fair that Gino got shot and the cops regarded
him
as the criminal.
We’ll be watching him
. What kind of shit was
that
?

“I’m going back to the hospital,” she informed Cee Cee. “When Boogie gets here, send him over.”

She stopped in Gino and Paige’s bedroom and grabbed a sweater for Paige. On the way out, she went by the bar and took a swig of Scotch from the bottle. She needed something to keep her going.

At the hospital, there was no change in Gino’s condition. “He’s fighting,” Paige said, her eyes puffy and red-ringed.

“He’ll win,” Lucky assured her, putting a comforting arm around her stepmother’s shoulders. “Here, I brought you a sweater. Put it on, you’re shivering.”

“Will he be all right?” Paige asked hopefully. “Will he, Lucky?”

“Of course,” she said, more confident than she felt. “You know Gino, he’s not going out this way. Gino will go in his own bed, most likely making love to you.”

“That’s a cheerful thought,” Paige said, summoning a weak smile.

“And he’ll probably be around ninety-eight at the
time,” Lucky added. “Yeah, ninety-eight and as feisty as hell.”

She used her influence and commandeered a small office with a phone. Then she sent out for food and forced Paige to eat. Around seven o’clock Boogie arrived, accompanied by two men, both in their early thirties.

“This is Dean, and Enrico,” Boogie said. “Dean will stay here, Enrico’s gonna cover the house. They’re both aware of the situation.”

Lucky nodded her approval.

“We must talk,” Boogie said.

“Drive Enrico over to the house,” Lucky instructed. “When you get back, we’ll sit down.”

“Who were those men with Boogie?” Paige asked as soon as they’d left.

“I’m putting a little protection in our lives,” Lucky explained, trying not to alarm her. “Y’know, Paige, we’re both aware of my father’s uh…colorful past. This is called taking precautions.”

Paige plucked a Kleenex from her purse and blew her nose. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“I’m being extra careful,” Lucky continued. “Gino would do the same if it were me lying in that bed.”

When Boogie returned, he and Lucky took the elevator down to the hospital cafeteria. Lucky sat at a Formica-topped table while Boogie went up to the counter and got two cups of coffee. He came back and handed one to her.

She sipped the hot liquid. “I’m anxious to know about Donna Landsman,” she said. “Only I’m not sure if this is the time for you to fill me in. It’s more important that you find out who shot Gino, and why.”