Revenge (45 page)

“You don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I do. You went digging. And you found
something.”

Something dark and nasty slid across Trucco’s
face. “Did you think you could hide it from me forever? I’m your
accountant, Don Lucchesi. I see where
all
the money goes. It
was a mistake making separate payments to Tyrell for Clarkston’s
education.”

“Did Carlo tell you what he was going to do
with this information?”

Triumph shined in Trucco’s eyes. “He said you
and yours would feel his wrath.”

Enrico almost felt sorry for him. “I already
knew all this. My son is safe.” Ruggero’s eyes snapped toward him,
then darted away, the only sign he’d heard anything.

“That’s not possible,” Trucco said.

“I’m not the only one who’s been betrayed.”
He looked to Ruggero and nodded. Ruggero pulled the bag with the
tracking device out of his pocket and handed it to Enrico. Enrico
held it up for Trucco to see. “What do you know about this?”

Trucco leaned forward, peering at the bag.
“What is it?”

“A GPS tracking device.”

“So?” Trucco shrugged.

“It was placed on my car and used to ambush
me.”

Trucco’s face registered only surprise. “I
know nothing about that.”

Enrico stared at him. “You’re lying.”

“A son for a daughter. That was
my
revenge. It wouldn’t work if you weren’t alive to suffer through
it.”

True. Still, he needed to be sure. He nodded
to Ruggero and took a breath. He wouldn’t look away and he wouldn’t
flinch.

When Ruggero stepped forward, Trucco shrank
back against the chair. “I swear, I had nothing to do with this.
Just the boy.”

A foot away from Trucco, Ruggero pulled a
knife from his pocket. The switchblade opened with a click. Light
gleamed on the sharp steel, drawing Enrico’s and Trucco’s eyes.
Ruggero grabbed Trucco’s head in an elbow lock and pressed the
blade into the flesh below the accountant’s right eye. “Shall I
pluck out your eye with this, or with my fingers?” Ruggero asked,
his voice low and menacing.

Trucco shivered. “I swear. I don’t know
anything.”

Ruggero pushed the knife into the skin below
the eye, drawing blood. Trucco whimpered. When Ruggero looked up at
Enrico, Enrico nodded. Pressing the blade in deep, Ruggero drew it
in a horizontal line below the eye. Blood welled up from the cut
and dripped down Trucco’s face. This time Trucco screamed. “Shall I
take the eye now, or later, hmm?” Ruggero asked Trucco.

“I’ve told you what I’ve done. Why wouldn’t I
admit to this?” Trucco looked at Enrico, his eyes pleading. “I’m
dead either way.”

Enrico stared at him, then he looked at
Ruggero, who gave the barest shake of his head. Trucco had told
them all he knew. It was disappointing, but perhaps they could
still make some use of his death.

He looked at Trucco, the man who had long
been a friend to him and his family. “I’m sorry about Fiammetta. I
tried to make amends to you.” He stood up. “Dom was right; I
shouldn’t have shown such mercy when I knew the depths of your
anger.” He straightened his cuffs. “You’ve left me no choice.”

Trucco’s face reddened. “Someone lost the
blood-alcohol test for you. Admit it.”

“Going to prison for a mistake wouldn’t have
punished me more than my own guilt.” He met Trucco’s eyes. “I am
sorry.”

“I wish I could see your face when you hear
your son is dead. Carlo will get to him someday.”

Heat boiled up in him, but he forced himself
into Trucco’s hell. He forced himself to see the pain beneath the
vengefulness. “I wish you to see your daughter again in heaven.”
Then he walked across the room to the door and nodded sharply to
Ruggero. “Finish it.” He turned away as the knife slashed across
Trucco’s throat. It was done. It should have been done many months
ago.

He just hoped Nico wouldn’t pay the price for
his guilty conscience.

After they returned home from dealing with
Trucco, Ruggero needed to change. And Enrico needed another drink.
Though he felt bad about Trucco, that wasn’t the reason. He
couldn’t stop reliving those last moments with Kate. And he still
had the meeting with La Provincia to get through.

Ruggero came for him a few hours later.
Enrico had restrained himself to one drink. He needed his wits
about him for this meeting. But it had been a fight to stay away
from the bottle.

“We must leave now,” Ruggero said.
“Ready?”

“Yes,” Enrico said, tightening up the tie
he’d loosened earlier.
What a liar I am
. He was in no shape
to appear before La Provincia. Seeing Kate today, of all days, had
been a mistake. But he hadn’t been able to stay away.

Enrico failed miserably in his attempts not
to think about her during the drive to a house on the outskirts of
Milan. Ordinarily, the meeting would have been in Calabria, in San
Luca, home of Benedetto Andretti, and the seat of La Provincia.
However, because Enrico wasn’t able to fly yet, the meeting had
been moved to a home owned by the d’Imperios. That was one thing
Enrico had insisted upon. He would not meet in any location
controlled by the Andrettis.

In addition to Ruggero, he had a driver and a
second guard with him and two more cars of guards, one ahead and
one behind. Ruggero sat in back with him instead of his usual seat
up front. Enrico hated having to take such precautions, but he
would not make himself an easy target.

As they drove, Ruggero was his usual
tight-lipped self, probably figuring it was best to say nothing. As
irritated as he was with Antonio, Enrico could have used his easy
chatter now. Anything to keep his mind off Kate turning him away
for good.

In a way, he was almost relieved the waiting
was over. He’d been dreading hearing those words from Kate, and
he’d been dreading this meeting. If La Provincia was going to
punish him or kill him, he wanted it over. And the way he felt
right now, he’d welcome whatever they wished to do. He was tired of
fighting, he was tired of all of it.

Ruggero must have sensed his mood. As they
neared their destination, he leaned toward Enrico. “May I say
something?”

Enrico was curious. He nodded.

Ruggero pushed the button that raised a sheet
of glass between them and the men up front. Despite the barrier, he
kept his voice pitched low.

“
Signore
, you have two children to
fight for. Regardless of the
signora
. You have them.”

It was the right thing to say, and the wrong
thing too. “I don’t really
have
them. Nico hates me, and God
knows if I’ll ever even see the other.”

“Much can happen in a lifetime.”

“Too much has happened already.” He leaned
back against the seat.

“Your children need you. Carlo will come at
you through them. Will you allow that?”

No.
No
. He was not going to bloody
well allow that. He took a deep breath and sat up. Even if Kate
didn’t want him, he needed to look out for his children. And her.
No matter how she felt about him, he still loved her. And he’d
sworn to protect her.

And damn it, he needed to do something about
Carlo. He’d just been sitting back, waiting for Carlo to make the
next move, still unconsciously following his vow to Toni. That
ended now. “Do you think we can make a move on Carlo here?”

Ruggero’s brows flashed up. Then he smiled.
“It’d be dangerous. We haven’t planned it.”

“But he won’t be expecting it. Carlo will
feel safe.”

“True.” Ruggero thought for a moment. “If I
see an opportunity, I’ll take it. But I won’t throw away our lives
on a whim. Do we agree?”

Enrico laughed, but it sounded forced, even
to his own ears. “I’m not suicidal.”

“I didn’t think you were.” But the look on
Ruggero’s face said the opposite.

Enrico and Carlo were shown into a large
dimly lit ballroom. Spotlights illuminated the center, where
Benedetto and Don Battista sat side by side. Enrico and Carlo, and
their respective guards, Ruggero and Massimo, had been thoroughly
searched for weapons at the door.

Once his eyes had adjusted to the lighting,
Enrico could see men seated in a circle two deep around them. He
knew a few of the men well, but many were bosses who had flown in
from Calabria. The strange, humorless faces staring back at him
seemed ominous.

Benedetto broke the silence. “Enrico
Lucchesi, you have been called here to answer charges brought by
Carlo Andretti. How do you plead?”

Enrico felt a calm come over him. He thought
of his father, of what would impress these men. A true Mafioso
would keep his cool, would swagger his way through this meeting.
Carlo would not get to him, no matter what was said. Enrico looked
at Benedetto, letting a smirk take over his face. “I cannot say. I
am not aware of the charges.”

Benedetto’s lips pursed, and a few of the men
around them stifled their laughter. Benedetto coughed to get their
attention. “The charges are violating the terms of the truce
between your family and Carlo Andretti’s.”

“I plead not guilty.”

Carlo shifted beside him. “You have balls,
Lucchesi, I will give you that.”

Enrico shrugged. “I have heard no proof
against me.”

“May I?” Carlo asked, nodding to his
brother.

“You may.”

Carlo turned to Enrico with relish. “You
sired an illegitimate son while engaged to my daughter. You broke
the betrothal. The marriage would never have taken place had I
known.”

Enrico struggled not to wince. He hadn’t
wanted his son to become public knowledge. But it was done. “What
actual
proof do you have of this, Don Andretti?”

Carlo produced a crisp piece of paper. “The
boy’s birth certificate.” He handed it to Enrico.

Enrico took the paper, holding it rigidly to
keep his hands from shaking.
Where had Carlo gotten it
? He
scanned the paper, feeling faint. There it was, under “Name and
surname of father.” His name. Except that he’d used his alias,
grazie a Dio
. “This says the father is Enrico Franchetti.
Might I suggest you start wearing glasses, Don Andretti?”

Carlo reddened. “Enrico Franchetti
is
you.”

“Prove it.”

Carlo seemed taken aback for a second, then
he said, “Franco Trucco, your
contabile
, can swear to
it.”

“Can he? Is he here?” Enrico made a show of
looking around.

“No. But we can summon him.”

“Please do.” Enrico crossed his arms. “I can
wait.”

Carlo’s eyes narrowed with sudden knowledge.
“You’ve eliminated him.”

“Why would you think that?” Enrico smiled,
pleased by the look on Carlo’s face.

“It’s just like with Grantini.” Carlo’s hands
clenched into fists. “You got rid of him too.”

Enrico stifled a yawn. “Grantini, again?
You’re boring me.”

“You can’t deny you slept with Trucco’s
daughter before the year of mourning had ended.”

“Can’t I? Are there any pictures? Video,
perhaps?” A slow ripple of laughter traveled around the room, and
Enrico smiled again. He was actually enjoying this.

“Everyone knows you fucked that
puttana
. Everyone.”

“Even if I did, the year of mourning is an
outdated custom. Much like the one against having a mistress. Which
everyone knows you do, Carlo. You take her everywhere.”

There was a chorus of agreement surrounding
them. Carlo’s eyes drilled into him, and he took a step toward
Enrico, breathing hard. “You will regret these lies. You will
regret what you did to my daughter. You will regret you were ever
born.”

“Carlo, the secret to a life well-lived is to
have no regrets.”

“Have you no shame?”

“Have you no desire for peace? Must we fight
this same fight forever? Will you never forgive my father for
making you look like a fool?”