Ti Amo (2 page)

“Mirabella,” he breathed through their kiss. His beautiful Mirabella had only been his for a brief time but she forever changed his heart, his desires, and his peace of mind.

Her lush thighs, and the sweet moist center under the petals of her sex, buffeted him in warmth with her straddling his waist and moving in a lovely slow slide along his erection. The longing and desire he suffered day in and day out burned away his hope for them two years ago. How could she be dead when she was in his arms once more? To answer his question Mira released him from her teasing kisses and her head lifted. She smiled down at him. The smooth brown skin of her oval face held pale golden undertones. Eyes the deepest shade of hazel brown shone with brilliance, reflecting her forgiveness under a dark ring of lashes. Her slender nose and full lips rounded out the face of an angel.

“I’m yours. You’re safe with me,” Mira said.

“I lost you.”

“Shhh…” Mira pressed her finger to his lips and kissed his brow. “Have faith. Please Giovanni, for us.”

Giovanni blinked awake. The darkness of his room was complete. There wasn’t a sliver of light to focus on. He lay perfectly still staring into the empty void swallowing him. He waited for an eternity until his heart stabilized. It was the same dream, with her again reminding him to have faith.

He had none.

In the dark he dropped his hand to the side of the bed and wiggled his fingers in search of the wine bottle he’d turned to for comfort. He didn’t feel it. His head was weighed down with a throbbing headache reaching his temples and hammering the inner walls of his skull. Thanks to the late night binge he couldn’t summon the strength to lift it. Instead he turned over to his side and closed his eyes once more. This time he prayed he didn’t dream.

****

Fish saw them. Two tall, mean-looking motherfuckers in long dark coats headed his way. Then he caught the sneer of Lorenzo Battaglia and knew instantly who they were. He leapt to his feet shoving a waitress so hard she fell backward on to the table behind her. Running toward the side exit he pushed other patrons out of his way and didn’t bother to look back, but he heard Lorenzo and Carlo knock over chairs and tables in pursuit of him.
How the fuck did they find him?

The titty club was located in the seedy countryside of Bologna. He’d only been back in Italy for two days. A trip he made because of his ailing mother. He kept his head low and his business short during his stay. Tonight would have been more of the same if he hadn’t had a raging hard-on for a dancer named Kamilla. He lost his woman to Angelo after his life went to hell. Kamilla was the closest beauty he’d seen next to hers.

The taverns were all lined up in an intricate maze of block shaped buildings with narrow cobblestone roads and alleys. Sloshing through rank puddles of rainwater, barely able to see in front of him as pockets of moonlight guided his way, he paced himself trying to gain his bearings. Fear had a hold of him now, and Fish never responded well on the rare occasions that he was scared. He drew both knives he kept on him. Their long blades shielded in leather, he stumbled twice to unsheathe them. He’d cut and gut both those motherfuckers if he must to survive.

An unmistakable sound of running feet echoed behind him. They were close. He looked up and the darkness prevented him from seeing the end of the alley. He didn’t know how many Battaglia goons were in pursuit of him or if any waited with guns raised.

“Fuck! Fuck!” he panted.

Fish would have to take a stand. The darkness could be his friend. It was so thick thanks to the cloudy sky it would be possible to surprise ambush one if not both of them. He may be trapped, but he would take those bastards out with him. And it had been some time since he ran his blade into soft flesh.

When he stopped running, the men chasing did as well. Fish stood there with both knives in his hand, breathing hard, face drenched in sweat. The temperature was much colder in northern Italy than the southern region this time of the year yet his fear had sent a fever through him and boiled his gut.

Lorenzo stepped out of the shadows.

Fish licked his chapped lips. The pair curled into snarl. “
Mi difenderò!
I will defend myself,” Fish shouted.

“
Lecchino!
” A younger voice snapped. Carmine stepped out from the shadows and came up behind Fish. He pointed the gun to the back of Fish’s skull, and Lorenzo’s brow arched in amusement. Apparently Carlo had thought to put some assistance in the alley. It was time for Fish to squirm, and tell him where the fuck Angelo hid. Fish’s shifty gaze lowered, and the blades dropped from his hands.

“Lorenzo?” he spoke in a breathless voice. “You have to know it was never personal.”

“It has always been personal.” Lorenzo challenged.

“Where is Dominic? I worked in favor of the Battaglia’s against the Calderone’s for years. I can be of use to you again.”

“
A di merda!
You worked in your best interest only!” Lorenzo scoffed.

Fish slowly raised his hands in surrender but his sneer and steely glare held a deadly warning. Men like him didn’t respond well when cornered. Not even when they were outnumbered. Lorenzo trained his gun on him ready to act if needed.

As of late, Lorenzo could never get close enough to Giovanni to mend the rifts between them that were slow to heal. Yes, they were bound together by blood and cause, but Giovanni held grudges. Most men in their world often did. Lorenzo knew his cousin never truly forgave him for what his betrayal had cost them both. He held strongly to his last secret. The real reason Giuseppe had needed to die was thanks to the assassin’s bullet he’d put into Papa Tomosino because of Lorenzo. He would kill everything living with the name Calderone to ensure that secret never surfaced.

“This is where you beg for your life.” Lorenzo smirked.

“
Vaffanculo
!” Fish spat. “Fuck you!”

Lorenzo put his hand to his chest and feigned shock. “I thought it wasn’t personal?”

Carmine smacked Fish in the back of his head with his gun and the blow drove the man to his knees. Fish was dangerously close to his knives. Lorenzo had once heard tale that he could throw them as well as wield them. He stuck his gun in the front of his pants and stepped forward, kicking the closest knife away. Lorenzo grabbed Fish by the damp thick hair at the top of his head and forced his face to turn upward. “I want to know where your boss sleeps, shits, fucks, all of it. I want Angelo Calderone.”

“And what? You will spare me?” There was a hint of maniacal humor in his voice and eyes.

Lorenzo held the man’s glare but wavered on the question. If he were in Fish’s shoes he’d die like a man not a
porco Dio,
pig God. And Fish knew the night would end with his life. What could he bargain with?

“You’re still trying to gain your cousin’s favor aren’t you?” Fish spoke in a calm almost empathetic voice. The mockery fileted Lorenzo and he slammed his fist into Fish’s face for the insult. The man buckled, but he held him up by his hair. Fish spat blood and grinned; crimson spittle coated his lips and teeth. “I know your secret,” he whispered. “I know the real reason why you killed Giuseppe. He told me about Don Tomosino’s death.”

“
Silenzio!
” Lorenzo drew back to hit him again but Fish laughed. Cold bitter laughter void of repentance echoed through the alley. Enu the Nigerian said Giuseppe had taped his enemies. That there was a recording of the one conversation he prayed no one ever heard. If it had existed Angelo Calderone would have certainly used it by now. Lies!

“Tell your boy who really murdered Don Tomosino.” Fish challenged.

Lorenzo could sense the questioning look from Carmine. The young man’s gaze volleyed between both men unsure of what he heard. He drew his gun out of the front of his pants and shoved it under Fish’s chin.

“I can take you to Giovanni as a corpse, it doesn’t matter.” He released the safety on the gun. Carlo arrived. Why he fell behind him Lorenzo wasn’t sure, but he was grateful his best friend hadn’t heard the nasty challenge from Fish about Tomosino.

“Wait! Wait! I have something you want.
Informazioni!
It will make you a hero. It’s what you need, right? To be the hero for Don Giovanni?”

“Fuck you.” Lorenzo seethed.

“She lives!”

Lorenzo froze. He lowered the gun and stared at the worm. “Who lives?”

Fish spat more blood before speaking. “His American. The black American woman. She lives.”

It was Carlo’s turn to laugh. “Kill the motherfucker. We have no time for this shit,” Carlo said in disgust.

Lorenzo threw up his hand to stay the execution. “Mira’s dead. We all saw her die. You set the bomb.”

“No. I set a bomb, but the bitch didn’t die. I saw the people who did. The day they came to her home I was there, leaving. I passed the woman, the one that the news people showed to be the designer. It wasn’t the fashion designer. I saw her face. Heard her with the other man. They were talking about leaving quickly and getting things for their boss. It wasn’t Mira Ellison.”

“Bullshit!” Carmine laughed. “Can you believe this boss? He drags up a ghost to keep from becoming one!”

“Kill him!” Carlo said, eager to conclude their business. “Bonaduce will know we’re here. That’s what delayed me. I had a run-in with two of his men. Their bodies rot in this alley. We need to go. Now.”

“I can prove it!” Fish shouted over Carlo’s voice.

“He’s lying Lo! She’s dead!” Carlo insisted.

“Let me do him boss. Let me do it.” Carmine grinned.

Lorenzo shook his head no. “Everybody shut the fuck up!” he shouted. “How can you prove it?”

Fish released a deep sigh of relief. “Angelo. He was pissed that I didn’t kill her. He wouldn’t give up. He sent me after her. She’s with an Asian man. Don’t know his name but I took photos. Angelo was going to use them against Giovanni. Then you killed Don Calderone’s daughters. He went mad with rage. We lost track of her. The Americans said she was dead. Angelo thought it best to let Giovanni believe it. Especially after we all saw how he lost control with grief. Don’t you understand? The photos are my proof, I can get to them. They’re dated. I can give them to you in exchange for my life. I’m not stupid. If I tell you where Angelo is, I’m a dead man, even if you don’t kill me, he will. This is what I know you can use.”

Lorenzo’s gaze switched to Carlo and his brow creased in confusion. “Why the fuck would she pretend to be dead?”

Carlo shrugged. Carmine interjected. “Maybe the bomb scared her boss. None of you saw how bad she was when Flavio sent her away. She could have become fearful of Gio and ran.”

“We can’t tell Gio until we find out more.” Lorenzo said.

Carlo nodded. “Agreed.”

Both men lifted their guns and aimed.

“Wait? You can’t do this. You need me! I have the photos. You can’t kill me!”

“For Fabiana.” Lorenzo said. He pulled the trigger repeatedly until the gun clicked noisily, now empty of bullets. Lorenzo and Carmine did the same. What was left of Fish was barely recognizable from the pigeon shit and mucky rainwater splattered along the cobblestone alley.

****

“Hello?” Giovanni groaned, barely awake.

“He’s dead.” A voice said through the line.

Giovanni opened his eyes. The words were of no comfort. “Angelo?”

“We are still looking for him, Gio, but we got Fish and—.”

Giovanni slammed the phone down on the rest of Lorenzo’s excuses. He heaved a deep sigh, and then rolled over, back to his misery.

Chapter One

One week later

Muri, Switzerland

“Eve Fabiana Battaglia you come to Mommy now.” Mira placed her hands on her hips. The door to the pantry was flung wide behind her. At her feet were two spilled containers of grains and rice. She couldn’t believe a toddler could cause so much destruction. However, Eve was a smart girl. Stubborn and crafty, she slipped in and out of rooms until her mother heard a crash and saw her little feet pedal her away. This morning was no different. Never in her life had Mira seen a baby so fixated on a single treat. Eve usually spat out sweets, but oatmeal or chocolate cookies from the local bakery were her absolute favorite. She wasn’t quite two yet. Her birthday would arrive this January.

The other day they were in the kitchen, Mira intended to fix lunch, and Eve wanted cookies off the middle shelf in the pantry. She’d grabbed her mother’s hand and dragged her to the food closet, pointing. Mira refused and kept at the business of prepping a sandwich of jam spread and peanut butter. Within minutes she looked over and found her daughter climbing the shelves like a little monkey trying to reach the bag of cookies. Scared her to death.

“Eve?” Mira said in a slightly raised voice.

Kei entered the kitchen from the opposite side. He sat down at the table with a paper in his hand for reading. Mira hoped he didn’t intervene. It irked her how he constantly came behind her and spoiled Eve or gave her whatever had prompted her temper tantrum. Since his arrival she’d been unable to convince Eve to sit on the potty. Her daughter just went to her diaper bag, collected one and walked it over to Kei for changing.