Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge (46 page)

LENNIE KEPT MOVING ALL NIGHT, STICKING
close to the mountains above the sea, eventually finding himself on a coastal road that led down to isolated beaches.

After a while the land began to get very flat, surrounded by uneven clusters of rocks and a few trees. Forgetting about his aching ankle and cut foot, he concentrated on reaching a safe haven.

Several hours later, dawn began to break. He’ collapsed at the base of a tall tree, ravenously stuffing chunks of the bread he’d saved into his mouth. It tasted better than a gourmet meal.

He groped in his pockets. He had Claudia’s flashlight and map, which he’d consulted from time to time; about six hundred dollars in crumpled American money and several thousand dollars in traveler’s checks; a credit card that was probably canceled by now; and his passport. It was fortunate he’d always carried his passport and money on him when out of America—even more fortunate his captors hadn’t discovered the money, which he’d kept hidden in the cave.

He’d abandoned the idea of getting to an American embassy. If he did that, he’d have to tell his story, and
there’d be questions and major publicity. Plus, he didn’t want Claudia getting into trouble.

His new plan was to get home as fast as possible.

Home to America and Lucky and his children, that’s all he wanted.

As the light came up, he found himself heading into a picturesque valley. Goddamn it, he
had
to be safe now—he’d been walking all night.

You’re free
, he told himself as he trudged along.
Free, free, free
. It was a heady feeling.

A short while later he reached the outskirts of a town, and started seeing people. He didn’t stop to ask for help, just kept on going.

A schoolchild pointed at him; a mangy dog ran up and growled; an ancient crone, dressed all in black, watched him pass and crossed herself. Human contact—it was strangely comforting.

Eventually he came upon a small train station. The old man behind the ticket counter looked at him oddly, and told him there’d be a train in an hour. He purchased a ticket to Palermo, then went into a small market next door and bought bread, cheese, and some kind of cooked sausage. Outside, the sun was shining. He sat on a bench and tried to eat slowly, relishing every mouthful.

By the time the train arrived, he was completely exhausted. Settling in a window seat, he slept fitfully until he arrived in the big city.

In Palermo he found a tourist shop and purchased a shirt, trousers, and shoes—which he put on in a back room the girl in the shop let him use. Staring in the mirror, he was shocked. It was the first time he’d seen his reflection since his capture. He was thin and gaunt, with a rough beard and long, wild hair. One good thing—nobody would ever recognize him. At least he could remain anonymous until he was safely home.

The shop girl spoke a little English. He asked if there
was a barbershop around, and she directed him to a place five minutes away.

He went there immediately and got rid of the matted beard and long hair. It was a big improvement, although he still looked like shit.

He felt completely alone in the world, but it was a satisfying feeling. Once more he was in control of his own destiny.

Within an hour he caught a ferry service to Naples, and from there he took another train into Rome—where he went straight to the airport, using his traveler’s checks to buy a bargain ticket to Los Angeles. There was a flight leaving in one hour. He bought some magazines and a cheap pair of sunglasses just in case he
was
recognized.

It wasn’t until he was sitting on the plane, heading home, that he felt completely safe.

SANTO’S MIND WAS A MOVIE. AND HE WAS THE
macho action hero.

He’d killed them. Donna and George. He’d killed the bad guys, and it was a good thing. How many people got to realize their dreams?

Now that the deed was completed, he couldn’t decide what to do next. There was blood everywhere, some of it had splashed on his clothes. Should he clear up the mess? Donatella wouldn’t like blood all over her house—she’d be really pissed.

Someone murdered my mother. An intruder. Yes. That’s what had happened. An intruder broke in and killed poor George and Donna
.

Too bad
.

The question was, why had they been so brutally murdered?

Simple. Venus Maria was the reason. Now she had to be punished, too.

He walked into his mother’s bedroom and stood over her for a moment, staring unblinkingly at her ungainly body sprawled on the floor in a pool of dark-red blood. Her nightgown was crumpled and bloody. She didn’t look neat.

He went to her dresser, took a pair of scissors, and returned to her side. Then he carefully cut the offending nightdress off her body, arranging her limbs in a more symmetrical fashion.

Satisfied, he went downstairs and inspected George’s body, crumpled at the bottom of the stairs.

Santo walked around him several times, trying not to get blood on his sneakers.

George’s mouth was open, so were his eyes.

Too bad they couldn’t be together. Mommy and Stepdaddy, side by side.

Life wasn’t perfect.

After a while, Santo took his shotgun and went outside to his car.

Carefully placing the gun on the floor, he set off toward Venus Maria’s house. This time, nothing would stand in his way.

As Lucky drove toward the Landsmans’ mansion, a car raced toward her, speeding in the opposite direction. She swerved to the side of the road, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision. She caught a quick glimpse of the driver and recognized the Landsmans’ son.

She parked on the street outside the gates, and sat in her car for a minute.

It was one thing to rationalize, think sensibly, and imagine people would get punished properly. It never happened that way, and she knew what she had to do. Finally, she had no choice. If she didn’t take care of it, Donna would never leave the Santangelos in peace.

Donna Landsman née Bonnatti had killed Lennie.

Never fuck with a Santangelo
.

Lucky got out of her car and walked around the property until she found an unlocked side gate. It was a sign.

She slipped through the gate, noting that the big house was in darkness.

Moving swiftly and silently, she circled the house and was surprised to find the front door ajar. Another sign?

She entered tentatively.

Sprawled at the bottom of the stairs lay George Landsman—his head practically blown off.

Lucky’s heart began pounding in her chest. He was dead. The man was dead. Oh, God, somebody had gotten here before her.

She backed away, nervously touching her gun, tucked in her jeans. Then she edged past George’s body, and headed upstairs. There was an eerie silence in the house. She flashed on the memory of Santo driving past at high speed, his face a white blur. Was he running from the killer? Or was
he
responsible?

She shivered. The master bedroom door was open. She edged into the room, holding her breath.

There was Donna, lying in the middle of the floor, naked and spread-eagled, laid out for all to see.

Poetic justice.

Slowly Lucky backed out of the room, ran downstairs, and left the house.

By the time she reached her car, she was shaking.

Donna Landsman would never bother anyone again.

Santo was on a mission. Nobody could stop him now. He knew Venus Maria was responsible for everything, there was no doubt about it.

She’d killed his mother.

She’d murdered Donna.

George was dead because of her.

She was a tramp bitch who deserved everything she was about to get.

Her guards were useless, and her stupid brother must have left by now.

This time he’d get her good, no more love letters. She’d betrayed him. Let’s see if she liked the shotgun better than the letters.

His gun gave him power.

His gun enabled him to shoot his way out of any situation.

He was Sylvester Stallone, Clint Eastwood, Chuck Norris. He was the quintessential American hero.

He drew up to the guard’s station in his car.

“Yeah?” The man half opened the security window and peered at him suspiciously. “What can I do for you?”

Without a word, Santo lifted the gun and blasted him in the face.

Pow! The guard dropped without a sound, blood splashing on the window.

Just like in the movies
, Santo thought gleefully.

Laughing to himself, he drove toward the house.

Venus sighed luxuriously—a long, drawn-out sigh of pure pleasure. Cooper made love to her like nobody else. From the tips of his fingers to his versatile tongue, he was a master lover—transporting her to the land of. ecstasy, giving her orgasms the likes of which she’d never experienced before.

He’d made her come twice—each time she’d screamed aloud with utter abandon as the climax sent her into shuddering paroxysms of rapture.

“Turn over,” he said.

“No more,” she said.

“Turn over.”

“I can’t take it.”

“Do it!”

She rolled onto her stomach. He parted her legs and began licking the soft flesh of her inner thighs. Her head was buried in the sheets. She couldn’t see him, only feel his burning touch. It was impossible that he could make her come again so soon.

Absolutely impossible.

And yet…the feeling began to sweep over her. The incredible mind-blowing buildup of a storm waiting to break….

Santo parked his car outside the mansion.

This mission felt good.

This mission was going to give him the clout and recognition he’d yearned for all his life.

No longer was he a sixteen-year-old fat kid. He was Santo Bonnatti. He was a big man, just like his dad. AND NOBODY COULD STOP HIM!

He got out of the car, stood in front of the tramp’s house, raised his gun, and shot the fucking lock right out of the fucking door.

Venus thought she heard a gunshot, but she was too close to bliss to care.

“Honey…” she murmured. Then the thought was lost as she climaxed with an earth-shattering shudder of pure sensual lust.

She screamed her pleasure—loud, abandoned, piercing screams.

As Santo started to enter the house, he didn’t notice the three dogs racing in his direction.

It was only when their vicious teeth sank into his flesh, tearing it away from the bone, that he began to scream—loud, abandoned, piercing screams.

He screamed until everything went a deadly black.

And then it was over.

ALEX SLEPT WELL FOR THE FIRST TIME IN
months. No sleeping pills, no Halcion—he put his head on the pillow, falling into a deep, relaxed sleep.

In the morning he awoke refreshed, rolled over in bed, and, as was his habit, reached for the TV clicker.

The TV was tuned in to HBO, where he’d left it the night before. There was a bad movie on about a drug deal gone wrong. Corny shit.

He had a positive feeling he was getting his life together at last. He’d told his mother something he should have gotten into years ago. Now, if she’d only get off his case and leave him alone.

He clicked to the next station. Another movie. Another piece of mindless violence.

The clicker was power. He moved on to a fitness show, watching for a few mindless minutes, trying to decide if he should order the piece of equipment guaranteed to give you unbelievable abs. Maybe not. Who had the time? Or the inclination.

The next channel was all news. A serious black newscaster was in the middle of a breaking story:

Alex sat bolt upright.
Oh, God, Lucky, what did you do?

He grabbed the phone. She answered immediately. “Lucky,” he said, his voice low and distressed. “I just saw the news.”

“Good morning, Alex,” she said cheerfully, as if there was nothing wrong.

“
Why
, Lucky?
Why
did you do it?” he said urgently.

“I didn’t,” she replied calmly. “It wasn’t me.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I promise you, Alex, I had nothing to do with it.”

“So you’re saying it was a convenient coincidence? That somebody else wanted her dead?”

“Get off my case, Alex,” she said sharply. “If you don’t believe me, that’s your problem—not mine.”

“I’m coming over.”

Her voice was firm. “No, please don’t.”

“Yes,” he said insistently.

She didn’t want to see him, he was trying to get too close too fast. It was time to step back again. “Look,” she said patiently. “I’ll call you later.”

“Make sure you do,” he said sternly, irritating her even more. “We have to talk.”

“I will.”

Alex jumped out of bed and went into the bathroom. Jesus! What had she done? His mind began buzzing. She’d need help, the best lawyers….

Whatever happened, he’d be there for her.

Lucky went downstairs to the kitchen and switched on the coffee machine. Life made strange turns, sometimes too strange to follow. Were the Santangelos finally free of the Bonnattis?

Oh, God, she hoped so. The feud had taken enough lives.

Last night when she’d gotten home, she’d called Gino in Palm Springs, asking if he was in any way responsible. He’d assured her he wasn’t. Gino wouldn’t lie. Besides, she’d
seen
the assassin, Santo, Donna’s son, fleeing from the scene of the crime in his car, almost colliding head-on with her. She wondered how long it would take the cops to figure it out.

Alex didn’t believe she’d had nothing to do with the murders. She couldn’t blame him; after all, she’d told him she was going to do something, and now it had happened, why would he think she was innocent?

At last she could bring her children home. It was a sweet feeling of relief knowing they were finally safe and they’d all be together again soon.

The coffee was bubbling. She took a mug from the shelf, pouring herself a cup.

“Hey—”

Her imagination was playing tricks, she thought she heard Lennie’s voice.

“Hey—
you
.”

She turned around, startled. Lennie was standing behind her, smiling. “Missed me?” he said. “’Cause I sure as hell missed you.”

She stared at him, speechless, utterly stunned. “Oh…my…God! Lennie…” she gasped at last.

“That’s me,” he said flippantly.

She was floating, dizzy, confused. This couldn’t be happening. Yet it was. And Lennie was here…her Lennie…her love….

“You’re alive!” she cried out. “Where did you come from? Oh…my…God! LENNIE!”

He grabbed her, hugging her fiercely to him as if he would never let her go. “Lucky…Lucky…I dreamt of this moment—it’s the only thing that kept me sane.”

She leaned back in his arms, softly touching his face, marveling that he was actually there. “Lennie….” she murmured, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh, God, Lennie…what
happened
to you?”

“It’s a long story, sweetheart…a very long story. All you have to know for now is that I love you, I’m here, and I promise you this—we will
never
be separated again.”