Arsenal

by S. W. Frank

  Alfonzo’s eyelids lifted. He exercised his eyeballs, shit he couldn’t exactly do calisthenics with a broken thumb, sprains and a dislocated shoulder. He wiggled his toes, flexed his legs and slowly attempted to flex his fingers.

  “Oh, no bueno…shit…shit…shit!” He grumbled under his breath when the sensitive nerve endings singed. It hurt so bad, he caught a headache.

  The hospital privacy drape separated him from Nico. 

  Nico might’ve laughed had he seen Alfonzo’s exaggerated expression. Nico can be cruel. He had a lot in common with Giuseppe.

  He hoped Giuseppe, utilized tact when dealing with the Five, but, then again, Giuseppe’s effective at intimidation.

  Giuseppe was going to be fine he believed.

  He wanted to go home.

  Frankly, he missed sleeping next to his wife. A man grows accustomed to the warmth of a lover’s skin and the morning ritual of raucous children.  He had many years of happy memories and the thought of more elicited an indescribable elation. 

  Clad in his boxers, an IV stuck in his vein, trapped in a hand splint and bandaged, what he longed for was pussy medicine.

  Tomorrow’s discharge couldn’t arrive fast enough.

  Alfonzo’s eyes opened and settled on the IV pole. Shit, he missed making love to his babe. 

  He hummed to music playing in his head to distract from the sexual urge taking hold. Then he whispered the words to the song. 

  “I am at ease in the arms of the woman,

  Although now most of my days are spent alone,

  A thousand miles from the place I was born,

  When she wakes me she takes me back home.”

   He grumbled, feeling the sting of a hard-on without a woman’s moist cushion. “Damn.” He muttered and gingerly rolled on his back, to begin sit-ups in bed. Carefully, he kept the IV arm straight to avoid crimping the tubing or having that annoying pinch when flexing the hand.

  He twisted his arm, smiling like a kid because he’d chosen a black splint that looked super cool. Back in the day when he fractured his leg, the selection had been minimal. His mom didn’t have the best medical insurance and bare bones everything is how people in poverty live.

  In his peripheral vision, he noticed something move.

  “Whoa!” he exclaimed when he spotted Selange asleep in a fetal position in the recliner. Her painted toenails peeked from the hem of her long dress.  She clutched a knitted sweater to her chin and he grinned –real wide because somebody answered his prayer.  

  He checked his watch on the nightstand; heck it was three in the morning. He noticed the garment bag hanging on the closet door above polished shoes and a suitcase to surmise she returned to help him dress in the morning.

  His chest puffed out proudly at having snagged a caring woman.

  He slid closer to the rail, palmed the triangle to raise his upper extremity and reached over to stroke her hair. Selange was usually a heavy sleeper. Maybe she sensed his need and awakened.

  “Hey honey, is something wrong?” she asked, with watery eyes that she dabbed with manicured fingers.

  “Yeah mami,” he answered and glanced between his thighs at the rising bulge eager for her attention. “I need some TLC, babe, feel me?”

  She grimaced at his predicament that the sheet failed to conceal.

  Selange slid forward to whisper. “Nico’s in here and the guards are outside the door. What if somebody walks in?”

  “You’re going to leave me hanging? In this case… dangling chica…. nah…don’t do me like that.” In his most seductive tone he said, “That’ll be cold mami…I nearly died but this shit’s worse.”

  Selange stood, dropping the sweater in the seat. “One second,” she said before quickly exiting. She returned after a brief absence, peered to where Nico lie and fully closed the curtain. “Okay, horny ass, let’s rectify this situation.”

  Alfonzo smirked when she hiked up her dress, removed her lace panty and then dropped the side rail. He’d thrust the sheet off and then gave a petulant frown when he encountered difficulty removing his boxers.  With a thumb fica cast from the forearm to his hand, a splint on the other side for a dislocation, his range of motion was limited.

  “I’ll take care of that. Lie back.” Selange ordered.

  He admired the take-charge attitude.

  Then she worked his shorts over his thighs, but stopped when she reached his calves to climb over him. The moment her moist flesh clutched the tip of his corona, he sucked in air, but didn’t exhale until she slid her soft wet pussy all the way down. 

  “Ooh babe!”

  Alfonzo flexed forward, to cup her lips with his mouth, loving the way her juices flowed from the top floor to the basement.

  He grumbled some craziness. “Nurse me mami,” and tongued her deep when she obliged with firm strokes.  The gush on his uplift caused her to pant into his mouth. He’d gone too long; days without sex required a quick fuck and release before act two. The holding pattern as his dick quivered during an explosion had her gripping his bad shoulder. The clamping action of her vaginal muscles made him forget the pain, sick motherfucker that he was he wanted more hurt from his babe.

  In the penile resting phase, his wife decided she’d clean him orally. A guttural sound emitted when she detached and went down on him, sucking hard while using the palm of her hand to caress his sack. The stimulation curled his toes.

  Alfonzo confessed his love in Spanish as her lips clamped his staff and she oiled him with oral fluids. He inhaled and the sound was a whistle and muttering of profanities.

  Selange raised her head, cautioning him to be quiet with a stern glare, although she had a naughty twinkle in her iris.

  He wiggled his toes, flexed them bad boys hard as he applauded with verbal grunts. He inhaled, pushing his head back to the bed, simultaneously lifting his ass as she polished him from tip to base.

  The deep breathing was a man trying not to shout. When he couldn’t lie idle, he put his arms around her shoulders, demanded she climb on board, and then leaned forward when she obeyed. Damn, she felt so good.  “Bésame chica.”

  Selange’s mouth stretched to meet his ravenous hunger.

  She moaned under the strength of an injured man’s passion. His mouth sucked and lathered her lips, and throat. His teeth dived served as hands and released her breasts from the restrictive cloth.

  “Dammit, honey, oooh, ahhh!”

  Her head went forward to give licking kisses to his tattooed shoulder blade while riding.  His thrusts were as solid as their love. 

  She held his thighs in an attempt to slow the rapid strokes, but each flexion of his femur loosened her fingers. She’d given in completely to the glorious feeling of being strongly loved.

  “Ummm, honey…honey,” she whimpered, breaking her silence. “I missed you too…so much…Ummm.”

  He lathered a nipple, smiling. He planned to fuck his wife until his dick fell asleep.

  Then she tightened around him, squeezing hard, panting and as she gasped and he stretched his neck like an ostrich to kiss her and he grunt as the pleasurable stickiness clung to the veins of his dick.

  “Can you two keep it down, I’m trying to sleep!”

  It’s hard to stay silent during a salutation to life.

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  15

   

   

   

   

   

   

  Chocolate waited inside the door, tapping her nails on the ridged frame,
uncertain what to say.

  Lorenzo stood there, long legs encased in denim, scruffy boots and a T-shirt hugging the physique of a man with damn good genes, staring at her, prepared to part ways.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

  Lorenzo bent over to adjust the hem of his trousers when the sharp pain brought a grimace that he hid with two words. “Me too.”

  “You’re skipping out on your new family, huh?”

  “There is an urgent matter I must address,” he replied. Yet, the only thing urgent was his desire to stand on the shores of Greece with family again.

  “You don’t want to get to know them? I mean, what’s the hurry?”

  “Why are you concerned with my business?”

  She didn’t appear fazed by his remark. “You’re right. I barely know you.”

  “But you do know me –bare.” He grinned to put her at ease.

  “So, I suppose this is it. What’s next –bye nice meeting you?”

  Lorenzo sighed hard, unbent his spine and swiveled to face the pretty woman perched by the door in a short dress that had him considering fucking her before leaving.

  He strode to where she fidgeted, took her in his arms and gazed at her with guilt and sadness. Although he paid for her company, he surmised by her question she developed feelings beyond their arrangement. The truth is, he felt something, except he was cognizant that his heart might never heal.  He didn’t want to take advantage of Chocolate. She deserved a man that possessed the capacity to love wholeheartedly, not someone suppressing emotion with booze.

  The time arrived when he had to put distance between them.

  “You have my number.”

  Chocolate avoided eye contact. Her pulse pounded in response to the strong arms holding her safe. She didn’t want him to leave. She needed help but didn’t know how to ask.

  Meeting Lorenzo helped her discover that fighting spirit she had lost due to fear. She gripped hold of his waist, saying good-bye with tears.

  “What is wrong? Tell me.” He said, lifting her chin and stroking the bone with his thumb. He saw her watery eyes. Her face was sullen, no, frightened and he asked, “What scares you?”

  “Nothing…I’m cool. You were growing on me, that’s all and I guess I’ll miss you.”

  “I will give you money to go anywhere and make a life that you have wanted.” He kissed her soft mouth, snapping the bottom lip like a rubber band when he released. “You are not a whore Chocolate. To me you are a sensual woman that soothes lonely souls. But, I grieve for a lost family and a fiancé.” His eyes descended sadly and he stared at her lips. “You are a beautiful goddess that deserves more than a grief-stricken man.”

  She thought to tell him her dilemma. Her Uncle Lee was murdered and she had a ticket for America leaving in two hours.  She chose not to reveal her troubles, afraid, she’d get him caught up in another mess that might end in his death.

  No, he’d been through enough. She refused to sabotage any chance of his emotional recovery.

  Her eyes began to tear. “Oh goodness look I'm crying.” She blinked rapidly to clear the watery film. “Whew.” She blew, disengaging from his embrace. “I have to go. Andio Lorenzo, take care of yourself!”

  She flew out the door, leaving Lorenzo with an unsettling feeling that perhaps he had been too hasty with severing the attachment.

  Lorenzo didn’t have time to contemplate the decision; Alfonzo appeared in the doorway flanked by his massive bodyguards.

  Lorenzo smirked. The man made wearing a splint stylish. Even injured, Alfonzo Diaz exuded omnipotence.

  “Fuck ‘em, then leave ‘em crying, huh Don Juan?” Alfonzo said, stepping in the room without his guards. One turned to face the corridor, the Capo didn’t. He watched Lorenzo like a hawk. “Based on that trait alone I might think you were Vincent’s son and the crappy way you dress. But, I don’t rely on externals. DNA confirms you’re my blood relation.” Alfonzo stated as he walked around Lorenzo to the line of bouquets. He discreetly examined the pot for listening devices, satisfied the bug detector in his pocket hadn’t buzzed and lifted an embossed card to read the get-well wish aloud. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart for bringing my honey home. I am eternally grateful –Mrs. Diaz and family.” Alfonzo grumbled. “Oh, how thoughtful of my wife. Look at that shit, my daughter baked you cookies.” He stifled a laughed. Allie’s cookies were awful. She got it from her mama.  “They’re pretty as my angel. She puts a lot of love into her baking.” He missed mornings at home. Today he had to get to a funeral, though. “Anyway, I guess it’s safe to say since Nico and Vin are twins, you’re Vincenzo’s son.”

  Alfonzo stood with his back to Lorenzo in the large hospital room impeccably attired, an haute couture male model flanked by flowers. The nonthreatening environment did not fool Lorenzo; neither did the seemingly cordial visit.

   “It does not change I am a Cuvato,” Lorenzo replied, shoving his hands into the pocket of his worn jeans, disliking the chafe of denim to his thigh. He hadn’t applied lotion in his hurry to leave.

  “I hear you’re splitting.”

  “Yes.”

  Alfonzo faced Lorenzo with a raised brow. The smile had dissolved. Azure and grey eyes locked. “I appreciate what you did. But, why’d you do it? You don’t owe me shit?”

  “When I make a promise to someone, I keep it.”

  An eyebrow ascended higher.  “Who’d you promise?”

  “Your wife.”

  Alfonzo’s ear twitched; his jaw clenched.

  “You have a reputation for hell-raising Lorenzo Cuvato. Going back to Greece is smart. Somebody that drinks and drugs his troubles in public is toxic for those in the vicinity. Trampling on a woman’s heart might backfire. You never want a woman mad at you…nah…that aint smart.”

  Lorenzo smirked. “I appreciate your concern for my life...I am touched that you care.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you kept your promise, but let’s be clear on something.” Alfonzo walked within inches of Lorenzo’s face. They were equally sized, except Alfonzo had sober eyes, Lorenzo’s were shiny like a person that puts liquor in his coffee. Alfonzo empathized with what Lorenzo endured, however, when it came to Selange, he’d slit his throat without a second thought. He’d gone through trials, too, and that included his marriage.  “Never call on my wife for repayment. You need something, contact me.” He motioned to the Capo who seized Lorenzo’s cell from the bed, examined it and then input Alfonzo’s number. “And oh yeah –stop the drinking. The shit’s not good for you, comprende?”

  Lorenzo snickered as he crossed his arms. ”Maybe, I should have allowed you to drink seawater longer.”

  “Maybe, you should have, but you didn’t. It’s a bitch when you have regrets. That’s the downside of making promises to someone you don’t know. You might find your good deed breathed life to Diablo.”  Alfonzo strolled casually to the door and said, “Welcome to the family maricón. Paz.”

  Lorenzo scoffed, his eyes bore into Alfonzo’s back. “Efharisto.”

  “Andio.”

  The powerful stride of an influential bastard resembled graceful panther movements as he disappeared from view.

  The Capo dropped the cell on the bed, watchful until his Boss exited, and then he followed the Patriarch of bad manners.

   

   

   

   

   

   

  16

   

   

   

   

   

   

  “So, I don’t know how long I’ll be gone pops,” Sergio said to Nico as he observed the imposing man put away his electronics in a weird looking briefcase with ridges.

  “Yeah?”

  “We haven’t had a private moment since everything happened, but I just want you to know I didn’t mean what I said that day.”


  “Yes, you did.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Nico rolled a wire into a ball, placed it in the corner of the case and held it down with Velcro. “It’s all right son, I’ve got thick skin.”

  “Maybe, when I get back, we can do something.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know –something. Whatever, hitmen does with their kids.”

  “But you’re not a kid, you’re an adult.”

  “But you always calling Alfonzo kid, so you have more affection for him and me I’m a nobody –adult?”

  “I call Al a kid because I seen him when he was in baggy pants and sometimes my mind hasn’t adjusted that he’s now a mature man.”

  “Nah, you say kid with affection. You don’t have that same feeling of me.”

  “Are you going to start crying? Should I get the pamper and bottle ready?”

  “You know what –fuck it –never mind. You are a cold sonovabitch!”

  Nico turned. He studied Sergio and scoffed. “I know what you need.”

  “What do I need?”

  “For me to say some mushy crap about how much I love you.”

  Sergio shifted in place. Maybe, he did want to hear the cold man say the words. “Nah.”

  “Sí, you do.”

  “What if I do?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with wanting to know you’re loved.” Nico scoffed, before he leaned his butt on the edge of the bed and shook his head. “Sergio, I hope you know that being my son hasn’t changed how I’ve felt about you for years. Come here.”

  Sergio looked around and then tentatively stepped closer. “You’re not planning to kill me are you?”

  “No.” Nico replied. He shocked Sergio with a suffocating embrace, kissed his head, patted his shoulder and then stepped back. “That’s what you need. I love you son, now get out of here and spend time with Lucia and my grand. I’ll be around when you return. Spending time with me doesn’t require an appointment.”

  Sergio exited feeling good.  Nico smirked at the big child and then returned to his task.

  Yesterday, he had to send someone down to remove Tomasso’s body to the crematorium. Then he had to hack into OCU to determine if anyone had traced Nicole’s call. Thankfully, they hadn’t. Nevertheless, he was obligated to inform Alfonzo. Apparently, Giuseppe didn’t want anyone to know his wife had dived off the deep end. He never pegged Nicole for a turncoat. Yet, he wasn’t surprised, either. Nothing shocked him when it came to people.