The Good Daughter (19 page)

“
The kid? You really wanna do that?”

“
Hell, yeah.” Carlo wagged his finger in front of Luigi’s face. “Don’t you go fucking questioning me. Sandro betrayed me and he’s fucking gonna pay. Get that bitch back and the kid will keep her in place. She gets away, the kid will bring them both running.”

Like other made guys, Luigi had tortured people. Killed them. But nothing gave him the willies worse than messing with kids. Babies were sacred. He wanted a bundle of them with Marisa.

While Carlo had little regard for any human life. Old, young, in between. His reputation was built on his ruthlessness. Back in Italy, before Luigi was part of the family, Carlo supposedly wiped out a whole family, dad, mom, kids; one child as young as two. Without blinking. Just because he suspected the dad of being a rat. No one was ever brought to justice for the crime, but rumors among the
Mafioso
pointed to Carlo. If anyone knew for sure, no one talked.

In an effort to stave off the inevitable, Luigi presented the best argument he could. “Agent Armstrong’s gonna have him squirreled away somewhere. And now we’ve lost our inside man--”

“
Find the kid.” Carlo’s words were final.

No argument against that.

Chapter 18

Snowflakes floated onto Nia’s face, melted, leaving wet spots for the cold night air to freeze. She pushed to her feet out of the damp ditch. With each breath, the biting cold stabbed her lungs, pierced her throat, and brought reality into sharp, bitter focus.

A car and a truck had passed. She took off running again, though the wind cut through her flimsy slacks and her feet felt like blocks of ice. She’d been jogging steadily for the past hour, pacing herself, until the occasional car sent her flying to her belly, heart pounding, waiting in the ditch.

The cars that drove by might hold possible rescue. But just as likely one of them held the mobsters. She had no doubt they were looking for her, and she wasn’t going to risk making contact with anyone. So far, other than the rare passing car, she hadn’t seen a sign of life--no houses, no businesses, just acres and acres of farmland, but she was bound to come upon something soon.

Far off, but fast approaching headlights sent her heart rate spiking and her scurrying to the ditch again. Lying flat on her stomach, she pretended it was Sandro driving the car, scouring the state of New York for her. No matter what he’d tried to make her believe earlier, she knew without a doubt now he was in serious trouble.

Regardless of his own troubles, she knew once he learned of her kidnapping, he would be out searching for her, no matter the risk to himself. She knew him well. Fear for him, fear for herself and her son made her muscles tighten and she wanted to curl into a ball and pretend none of this was happening.

To dispel the freezing fear, she pictured how happy he would be when he found her. How he would cover her face, her lips, with warm grateful kisses. The strong image was so real, she almost jumped up from her hiding place to wave down the passing car.

Last minute sanity prevailed. She knew she couldn’t take the chance no matter how tempting. The cold and fatigue must be making her lose it.

She forced herself to stay still, returning to her daydream of Sandro’s soft, soothing kisses, and that he would soon be awakening her from this horrible nightmare. He would hold her, whisper sweet Italian words in her ear, and when she was calmed, he would lay her back and make slow, passionate love to her.

The car finally passed. Nia realized her cheeks were wet with more than snowflakes. She wiped the tears away, dragged herself to her feet, and made herself start running once more.

* * *

Sandro had made a wrong turn, and ten miles down the road, he still couldn’t find the smaller street that should have been there. He pulled into the parking lot of a closed convenience store and put the stolen Honda Accord in park. The bright security lights surrounding the store made it easy for him to look at the map he’d bought before he left the city. Now, he wished he’d taken time to buy a GPS.

He turned too early. The road was still at least five miles ahead. If he’d been concentrating more on driving and worrying less about his missing wife, he wouldn’t have gotten lost.

To some, to chastise himself for worrying about his wife, who was in the hands of the mob, might seem heartless. It partially came from his belief to live in the moment. Worry was a waste of energy. But mostly, he knew his wife, and had confidence in her abilities. She would find a way to stay alive until he found her. He had no doubt if a chance to escape presented itself, she would take it. By now, she would have realized his leaving was a set up, and she would know he would come after her.

Making her think he left her for another woman had been a last minute plan, the best he could do under the circumstances. If it had gotten her out of town and back home to Dallas, that would have sufficed. He hadn’t counted on Carlo moving so fast.

It made no sense to lament fate though. Once again he would do what he had to do. He always had. It was a code he lived by.

Sandro had been manipulated like a puppet for too many years. More than once, doing what he thought he had to do meant violating his honor. Missing the all-important free kick in the World Cup game that would have brought honor to his whole country, being forced into laundering money in the restaurant business he’d built for his family.

Now, doing what he had to do meant drawing the imaginary line to regain his lost honor as well as his wife. He would settle for no less. Once and for all, he wanted the Mafia out of his life, and his family together and safe again. He wanted a normal life. One not haunted with distress and deceit and danger.

Sandro remembered when once everything looked so hopeful. A time of sweetness and innocence. A time when the future promised a life brimming with happiness. A time before Carlo had brought the Mafia into his life . . . .

* * *

Ten years earlier

“
I feel like words aren’t adequate, but I had a wonderful time. Like a dream come true.” Nia wrapped him in a hug as he prepared to board the long flight home to Italy after their passion-filled night. Where she had, as he promised, retained her virginity, even if she had lost some of her innocence. Never would he have imagined that a trip to the States for a friendly soccer match would result in his
thunderbolt
, finding his true love.

“
Email me.” He refused to let her go though the attendant had called for his flight to board. He prayed all he had done, all they had shared, was enough to last in her memory until they could meet at the upcoming World Cup in the summer. If she promised to write, then at least he’d be on her mind part of the time.
Dio
, he hoped most of the time. All the time. He knew she’d be on his mind.

“
You want me to email?” She seemed so amazed. Why was she amazed? He was the one most blessed to have met her.

“
Every day.”

“
Every day? Sheesh, what would I put in an email every day?”

“
Anything. Everything. What you do during the day. . .”

“
So, you mean like a journal?”

And that’s what she’d done. Her first email arrived in his inbox eight days later, a typed account of what she had done every day for a week. Not exactly what he had in mind, even if that’s what he’d told her.

He called her. Her roommate answered the phone. Anxious to hear Nia’s voice, he decided at that moment, he’d get her a cell phone. They were smaller than they used to be, maybe small enough that she’d carry it with her.

“
Hey, Nia, your Italian stallion’s on the phone.” Although the roommate had obviously moved the mouthpiece away, he heard her. He walked to his bookshelf and as he checked the translation of what she’d called him, he heard Nia express disbelief. “What? No way.”

And then she picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“
Why does your friend call me a horse?”

“
Sandro! My, God, it’s really you. Remind me to kill you, Kelsie,” she called off into the room. “Sandro!” she said again, happiness bubbling in her voice. “I can’t believe you called.”

“
Did I call too early?”

“
No, I have a class soon.”

“
I won’t keep you then--”

“
That’s all right. I mean . . . is something wrong?”

He made his voice deliberately firm. “
Si
, something is wrong.”

“
Oh, God. What? You’re injured! You can’t play! What happened?”

“
I am not injured. I play on Sunday. Will you be watching?”

“
Of course. I always watch. If you’re not injured,” she continued, “why--”

“
It’s this email.”

“
Email?”

“
The one you wrote me.”

“
Oh.” She sounded puzzled. “What’s wrong with it? I did as you asked.”

“
Si
, you told me what you did day-by-day. But where is the recounting of the passion we shared? Or a mention that you miss me? That you dream of me at night and awaken with my name on your lips?”

“
Sandro,” she breathed, her voice low and intense. “I can’t put that kind of stuff in an email--”

“
Why not? Was the passion we shared only imagined? Are we not lovers?”

“
Well . . . I mean . . . you know . . . anyone could read it . . . and, um, like Giuseppe said, you’re known as a lady’s man.”

“
And you think I would share our private emails, that I just play with your affections?”

“
Well . . . you know . . .”

“
Did you not promise me your virginity?”

“
Of course, but--”

“
Were you playing with my affections?”

“
No, I was serious, but--”

“
So you think I’d take your gift lightly? Use you then leave you?”

“
I don’t know. For all I know you have a hundred lovers over there, and I would be one of many. You could even sit around the computer with someone else and laugh at what I wrote.”

He managed to control his temper by reminding himself Giuseppe was right. She was stubborn. “Remember what I told you?”

“
Every word.”

That was better. “Remember when I told you I loved you, and I would marry you?”

“
Of course I remember. But you couldn’t have been serious.”

He didn’t comment.

“
You weren’t serious, were you? We barely know each other.”

“
Perhaps we’ve just met in this lifetime, but our souls have known each other forever.”

“
You’re really serious?”

“
I am an honorable man. You may trust what I say . . .”

* * *

An honorable man
. Once Sandro had been honorable and trustworthy. Until he was left with no choice.

But the time had come for new choices. New promises to keep. He would be honorable again.

A dark-colored, long-bed Ford truck slowed and turned into the parking lot as Sandro checked the map one last time. Three dog kennels sat in the back of the truck. Probably early morning hunters waiting for the store to open to get hot coffee or gas for their truck. He barely had time to make note of that when a big black car drove by and passed the store. Unusual for two vehicles to be so close together this early and in this weather. The further north he’d driven, the more deserted the road became. At times the isolation and darkness was so complete, he felt totally alone in the world.

He put the Accord in gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

One man searching for his missing wife.

* * *

The black car that Sandro saw pass by the store after the truck pulled in, slowed, made a u-turn and headed back to the convenience store.

Giovanni parked next to the truck where Joey and Eddie sat. Giovanni hit the switch to roll down the window. “What’d you think? That guy who just left. He gonna be a problem?”

“
Nah, some out-of-towner,” Eddie said.“Looking at a map, probably lost. Most likely he thinks we’re hunters.”

“
So, you think she’s headed here?”

Eddie glanced around thoughtfully. “Since she definitely took the road and there aren’t any houses or turn-offs before this store, this is the most likely place. And there’s a phone inside, something she’s no doubt looking for. If she’s walking fast or jogging, she should be here before daylight.”

“
Hell, she’s in great shape, she’s probably running, probably already here and just hiding out--”

“
Maybe not.” Giovanni interrupted Joey. “She’s pregnant.”

“
You serious?”

“
That’s what she told Angie. And she was throwing up earlier.” Giovanni grimaced at the memory.

“
Shit. I don’t like this,” Joey muttered. “At any rate, she’ll push herself as hard as she can. She could still be here.”