Amore (79 page)

How many men had Kei brought with him to the island? The darkness was his ally and his enemy. His only choice was to find a way inside.

Kei picked up an assault rifle and sprayed bullets into the forest from the second floor veranda. He could see and hear the death cries of many. He didn’t care if he shot his men or theirs. No one would make it inside. He sacrificed his men at every entrance. Told them that if they retreated back inside he’d kill them himself. Once his magazine clip was emptied, he tossed the weapon and picked up two more of his guns. It was then he saw someone run for the building. And in spite of the shadowy darkness it wasn’t just a figure. There was something about the man’s fearlessness that gave him pause. Kei smiled. It couldn’t be Giovanni. Could it?

He stormed off the veranda through the study, and out into the hall. He’d instructed the men to barricade all the doors they guarded. He had no doubt Giovanni would overcome every obstacle to find his way in.

Giovanni shot the door handle off. He tried to kick it in but something blocked it. Giovanni threw his weight against the door just as someone shot at him and missed. He turned and fired, killing the man. He again charged the door with his shoulder. After three consecutive body slams against the wood, the hinge broke and gave. It was forced to open a few inches. Giovanni pushed with his shoulder and forced it to open further. There was something barricading it from the inside. Instinct told him to go in low. He was saved because he obeyed his gut and ignored the panic in his heart. Someone must have heard him trying to get inside. The bullets zipped above his head. He returned fire but not with accuracy. He couldn’t see. It was darker inside the monastery than out. He heard his men behind him. They were coming to join him. Giovanni had only one purpose, find Kei Hyogo. Kill Kei Hyogo.

The side entrance led to what looked like a kitchen. He kept low to avoid the shooter. When he tried to run past the counter, gunfire exploded to his left. Giovanni stood and blasted off several shots in the general direction of his assassin. Light flashed each time the trigger was pulled, and he saw his assassin drop. And then another who came running in took several bullets to his chest. The sulfuric stench of gun smoke made his eyes and throat burn. He ignored it and kept going. It was then he was met face to face with Kei Hyogo. Both men were startled at first to see each other. Giovanni was slow to react. Kei’s gun clicked empty. Giovanni shot at him but his aim was off. The miss gave Kei a chance to attack. He charged Giovanni and several shots were released into the ceiling. The gun dropped. Kei delivered fast acting punches that hit Giovanni in his face, throat, and chest. If it weren’t for pure adrenaline boiling in Giovanni’s veins, he would have been dropped to his knees. Instead he wrestled Kei down by tackling him with a shoulder rush to Kei’s gut. The man was tall but not as tall as Giovanni. He soon had the advantage, but it was short lived. In the struggle his broken hand was yanked, and another blow was delivered to Giovanni’s head with Kei’s iron fist. Giovanni was shoved off. He saw his gun. He needed Kei down and he had only minutes to react. He scrambled to his feet. Kei was up as well and coming for him. He swung his leg with a lighting strike of a karate kick to Giovanni’s back. Giovanni went down again, but this time within reach of his gun. He grabbed it and rolled out of Kei’s next kick. He fired.

The bullet hit Kei in the knee. He howled in agony. Giovanni stood. Taking down deep breaths he aimed at Kei.

“You’re too late. Killing me won’t change a thing. She’ll never be with you and not think of me again!” Kei laughed.

Giovanni shot Kei in his other knee. He screamed in agony. Several men ran inside. Giovanni nearly shot them next. They froze. He recognized them as Mancini’s men. Armando walked in. He was bleeding from the arm. He looked at Kei dragging himself across the floor.

“Keep him here for me,” Giovanni spat blood from his bruised mouth. “I’m going to get my wife.” He panted.

Armando nodded. He stepped on Kei’s leg and the man screamed again in agony. Giovanni realized he was bleeding in the chest, face, and the neck. Kei had used some iron glove to fight with that had shredded him. He didn’t feel any of it. The blood didn’t matter. Kei’s words gutted him worse than his superficial wounds. He went for the stairs. It was pure instinct he was working on now.

“Bella!” he yelled.

There was no answer. He went left instead of right down the hall. He kicked open every door because his fucking hands were now useless. “Bella! Bella!” he yelled. He wanted to do the search on his own. He didn’t know what he’d find. Kei’s nasty words burned in his head. Each room was empty. Giovanni felt a surge of panic.
Was she dead? Is that what he meant? Was she hurt? No! No! She couldn’t be dead. She was hidden somewhere. But why wasn’t she answering him?
Giovanni arrived at another stairwell, a much narrower one that led to the unknown.

“Bella!” he cried out again.

There was only one door left to him. He pushed it open. The room was dark. The only light came from the open doors to the balcony. He walked toward the bed. Mirabella lay on her side under the covers. She was still.

“Bella?” Giovanni walked around the bed. Her hair was in her face. He could tell she was nude under the sheets. He went to his knees. He moved her hair from her face and found that she was damp, feverish with sweat. She wasn’t fully unconscious, but she wasn’t aware of him or where she was either. “It’s me. It’s Gio,” he said softly. “I’m here,
mia amore
.”

Again she moaned and her lips moved wordlessly. Giovanni turned her. There was bruising to the side of her face and her throat. Some of it looked fresh. His rage surfaced again and paralyzed him. Giovanni swallowed the sob in his throat and blinked away his tears. He wrapped her up in the sheet and ignored the pain in his hand when he lifted her from the bed. Her head fell back and her arm swung in a listless motion. She felt light. It had only been seventy-two hours, and she felt as if she weighed nothing. He lifted her and pressed his ear to her breast. He heard her heart beat, and it was strong, but it had a very accelerated rhythm. He nearly wept with relief.

Kei had drugged her. Just as he suspected when he watched the video of them both. He refused to think of anything else he might have made his wife endure. He carried her out of the room and down two flights of stairs. Below, Armando and his men waited. Seven men out of the twelve Giovanni brought with him were waiting as well. To the middle of the floor were eight badly beaten Asian men on their knees with their hands behind their heads. Kei was before them seated, bleeding. He looked up first. His face covered in sweat, his eyes blazing with hatred. Giovanni did not take his eyes off him. Mancini’s men held guns on them.

“Is she alive?” Armando approached.

Giovanni remembered who he was and answered with a stoic nod instead of the emotional breakdown he was on the verge of. Inside his head he screamed. “She’s hurt. I need to bring her home.”

“We can take her to the village doctor. There’s a clinic not far from here,” Armando said.

He looked at her for a moment, torn. He could never hand her over to anyone. He didn’t trust them. He had to bring her home. “No. I’m taking her home.”

“And them?” Armando said.

“Kill them all. But bring their leader on the boat, for me. I’ll need a machete,” Giovanni walked toward the door.

“Giovanni! Giovanni! We aren’t done! We will never be done!” Kei shouted to his back as he walked out of the front door. The gunfire blasted behind him. The slaughter happened. He didn’t bother to turn and witness it. He kissed Mirabella’s feverish brow under the moonlight and carried his wife toward the beach.

Sorrento, Italy –

Lorenzo came in through their bedroom door. Mirabella stood. She had sat on the edge of the bed waiting. He glanced around the room and then to her. “You disappeared?” he asked.

“I was waiting for you,” she answered. “How are you?”

“I’m better now.” Lorenzo closed the door. He put his hands in his pockets. “I see they covered the holes in the walls. And the window is fixed.”

Marietta nodded. “Looks like the way things used to be in here.”

“Doesn’t feel that way. Does it, Marie?” Lorenzo asked.

She bit back her tears. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Things I’m afraid to tell you. Because I don’t want to lose you, Lo.”

He sighed. “Me too.”

The confession hurt. Neither asked for the other to explain the specifics. The truth was implied. He took a step toward her. “In jail I sobered up. Focused. I wish I had done so sooner.”

She waited with baited breath. She feared what might come next. Maybe she didn’t physically cheat on him, but she did emotionally. And she knew what end her lies would bring. All she wanted was a clean slate, a real chance for their marriage to work again.

“Can I touch you?” he asked.

Marietta nodded her head yes and tears of relief sprung to her eyes. Lorenzo towered over her as he often did. His rough hands felt gentle on her skin. One cupped the side of her face. “So beautiful. Marie, I’d give my life for you. I swear on it,
cara
, I did not take another woman into my bed. I tried. I failed. No matter how badly I hurt for you, I love you with all my heart. From the deepest most purest part of my heart. Say you believe me.”

“I want to,” she let tears fall. “When I think of what I did, how easy I lied to you, it’s hard to believe you’re not capable of the same.”

“May I kiss my wife?” he asked.

Confused that he’d want to with her crying, she nodded her head yes. He lowered his face and brought his lips to hers. There was a soft gentle relief she felt when their lips met. She blinked up at him, surprised when their lips parted.

“We of all people should know how precious and rare it is to find our kind of love,” Lorenzo said with a chuckle. “We can’t let our fears defeat us, Marie. I won’t lose you. Ever.”

“You forgive me? Really?” she asked.

“I forgave you when you pulled the gun on me, my little gangster.”

She threw her arms around his waist and laughed. He hugged her. Kept her close to his heart. He lifted her. Not that he had to, but he often did when he wanted to be the one to bring her to bed.

The feel of her lips on his face and neck soothed him. He ached for his wife the most when he was put away. He saw Carlo, saw Giovanni’s pain, and wondered how he could jeopardize their happiness. How he of all people could forget the precious gift of love his wife gave him when she agreed to be his. Marie would be his. She’d give him sons, and he’d give her a family she could believe in.

Her thighs parted for him. He dragged his lips from her mouth to her neck. She let go a soft breath and closed her eyes. He tasted her left nipple. He coaxed what felt like a swollen berry on his tongue into his mouth, and then opened his mouth wider to swallow her areola. His hand rubbed down her stomach to the soft delta between her thighs. He stroked her pussy. He glanced up to see the pleasure twist and release the smile on her face. The long dark lashes that shadowed her amber brown, doe-like eyes, fluttered. Her breathing escaped her tiny nostrils. Lorenzo released her nipple to bury his face between her breasts. He didn’t take his hands from the heated softness of her plump pussy. The softness of her pussy and breasts were such a comfort.

“I missed you, Marie,” he groaned deep in his throat. He lifted his head and looked at her. She was now looking at him. “I love you.”

Lorenzo took his time. But eventually lust and regret overwhelmed him. Her silent acceptance made his hunger for her insatiable. He eased up on her, with her beautifully stretched beneath him. He pressed into her, freed his dick. He moved the seat of her panty aside and glided straight inside her tightness, until his groin met with her sweet cunt. He pinned down her hips with both of his hands, and stared at her face as he moved in and out of her. Marie was beautiful to him. The most beautiful woman he’s ever loved or seen. And when he fucked her, each time he fucked her, it felt like a privilege. The world outside was falling apart for them both. But this stolen moment between them was all they needed. He wouldn’t let go.

Damn his dick hurt. It often did when he went past a week without this pleasure. It was swollen, and impossibly harder when she responded to him with a nice roll of her hips. Her tight pussy clamped down on his dick the deeper he tunneled, and then her inner muscles constricted even tighter. The lush sounds of his dick thrusting in and out of her slick channel, mixed with her shaky moans and the banging of the headboard. He fought hard against his nature to release.

“Lorenzo?” she gasped. The first words she spoke since he’d taken her. She gripped his shoulders and her nails dug into his biceps.

“Yes, baby,” Lorenzo said working his hips to sink deeper after each thrust.

“Can’t! Can’t! Can’t take it,” she exhaled, warning of an impending release.

“Take me with you, Marie,” he groaned. He sat back on his hunches and brought her with him. She was wrapped around him, seated on his dick. He grabbed the perfectly round globes of her ass cheeks, and parted them so he could open her even wider as she went up and down on his dick. “Mmm yes, Marie, yes!”

Marietta rocked, and pushed, and bounced on his cock. Together they found a rhythm that pleased them both. He crashed with her back on the bed. Her face was reddened, and her features were tight as she joined him in the ultimate climax. It felt pure between them.