by Sienna Mynx
“An anonymous tip got us there in time to see the fireworks. And I was able to seize the largest heroine import in the history of our nation."
"Congratulations.” Dominic clapped.
“Benicias. All of them dead,” the Generale said wagging a finger. “And Mateo Benicia is supposedly responsible for this? We have a suicide note.”
Dominic shrugged.
“Do you think I’m stupid?”
Dominic smiled.
“This reminds me of another slaughter. One five years ago in the triangle. The Calderones.”
“We had nothing to do with it.” Dominic said.
“Ah? That’s what the courts ruled and dismissed my charges. But see, when Giovanni marks a family for death he does so in this way. Just within my reach is the truth, and yet far away. He’s like a wizard, huh?” The Generale chuckled. He paced before Dominic. “Normally I’d offer to load the gun and put it in your hand to do away with this Benicia scum. But I have six innocent civilians who have been killed. Now, I need to know what you know about this.” He approached and pulled loose a photo of a beheaded corpse of a woman. He eased it before Dominic. It was missing the hands and feet. “Her name is Isabella Mancini.”
“You know her? All I see is a bloody mess,” Dominic said.
“I know it’s her. The toxicology report says her body was pumped with an unidentifiable substance that ruptured her heart. Very toxic. We think its heroine, but our coroner ruled it inconclusive. This woman and I have had several conversations about your family, Dominic. She had interesting things to say about Giovanni. In fact, she left me a present.”
The Generale removed a tape cassette from his pocket. Dominic’s heart jumped into his throat. The Generale put the cassette down on the table. “Care to hear it?”
“No.”
“Oh, I think you want to hear this. Unless you already have?”
“I said no.”
“Fine. I’m a good translator. See once upon a time in a land far away, lived Giuseppe Calderone. A very nasty little runt who wanted to be king. The only problem was the Calderones already had a king. And Giuseppe didn’t like that very much. So, he ventured out and found another fallen prince. His name is Lorenzo Battaglia. And one day he made a proposal. A very good one. If Lorenzo were to kill his father, he would kill King Battaglia. And they would rule the two kingdoms together. Sound familiar?”
Dominic didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The Generale had him by the balls.
“Now, I’ve told no one this story. In fact, that tape is my gift to you, the only copy I have. Do you know what I want in return?”
Dominic looked him in the eye.
“All of it. Giovanni, Lorenzo, the Battaglias, all of it. You aren’t Battaglia are you? Just a little orphan boy Tomosino kept as a pet for his red-haired whore. Right?”
Dominic’s left eye twitched and his lips pressed together into a thin, pale line.
The Generale dropped both fists on the table and leaned forward so he could look Dominic in the eye. “This is it. Your way out. Name the price and it’s yours. And you won’t have to be caught in the war that I know is brewing between the men you pretend are your brothers. Giovanni and Lorenzo will kill each other. Where does that leave you?”
Dominic sat forward. The Generale stood upright. He slid the tape cassette over the surface of the table back to the Generale. “I reject off your.”
“That would be a mistake.”
“I don’t think so. The tape does not incriminate Lorenzo or Giovanni. It incriminates Giuseppe in Tomosino’s death.”
“Which is why Giuseppe was killed.” The Generale said.
“Can you prove that? This tape was recorded several years before Giuseppe was murdered. There is nothing to connect my family.”
The Generale glared.
“Now, I’d like to ask if the Carabinieri has a suspect in who tried to kill my brother?”
“We aren’t looking.” The Generale smiled. “It will only be a matter of time before everything falls apart, Dominic. And when it does someone will come forth with the proof of what Giovanni did to the Calderones. They always do. That tape is the final nail in the Battaglia coffin.”
“If that is true, then you have the hammer and you don’t need me,” Dominic said.
“Fine. Let’s play it this way. I want a meeting with Mirabella Battaglia within forty-eight hours. Or I will drag every one of you in here on conspiracy of murder charges. I will go as far as Sicilia to throw men, women, and children with the name Battaglia behind bars until my inquiry ends. That tape gives me enough power to do so. I promise to leave Giovanni vulnerable in Salerno. For his enemies to pick his bones. And I promise to make you watch.”
“You don’t need to speak to her. She's a grieving wife. She would know nothing about your headless woman, and wasn’t even in Italy during the Calderone slaughter.”
The Generale laughed. “She’s not like you. Or any of the Battaglias. The wall of silence is an inherited trait. It’s ingrained in you leeches from infancy. I could bring you in, keep you, and it would be a waste of my time. She’s American. Black-American. I think she and I will have a good conversation. Tell her I can meet her at Melanzana. I’ve been dying for an invite to go behind the iron gates. Forty-eight hours, or I come calling.”
Dominic kept his temper in check. The moment the Generale left he kicked the chair in front of him. The lieutenant that had delivered him returned. Dominic stood. He was escorted to the front of the station and only un-handcuffed then. When he left out of the doors he found Nico and Renaldo waiting. They must have been notified by the men in Salerno that their boss was in trouble.
“What did he want?” Nico asked. He opened the car door for Dominic to get inside.
Dominic glanced back to the building. Up in one of the windows he was certain the Generale watched him. “Divide and conquer. That's what he wants.”
Nico scoffed. “He’s wasting his time.”
“Lorenzo? Any word?” Dominic asked.
Renaldo and Nico exchanged looks. They shook their heads no. Dominic sighed. “Take me to Salerno. I need to get to the hospital and be there for Giovanni. I need to think.”
The men got back inside the car and sped away. He wanted to ask them about Catalina but decided not to. If there was news they would have shared it. Wherever she was, she wasn’t looking for him to rescue her.
Chapter Four
A Simple Fantasy / A Harsher Reality
Mondello, Sicily
“Non sto più nella pelle—I can’t stay in my skin. I want you so bad.” Giovanni bit down on his bottom lip. The head of his cock breeched her core. They'd not gone far enough for her liking. Though the temptation was raw and surging between them with every stroke. She lay flat to her back on a beach blanket. The bottle of wine and basket of fruit and cheese forgotten. The moon was not as bright as the stars. The wind from the ocean cooled the temperature a degree, but not much. Or maybe it was him. He overpowered her with his weight and persistence. She felt feverish, especially between the moist folds of her sex. All he needed to do was slip in further, just another inch and their union would be complete. The men guarding him and the beach were at a distance, and the night gave them cover. He must have read her mind. The very next blow sent a shockwave up her spine.
“Keep your hands where I put them,” he pleaded in a winded voice, as if the mere act of making love to her overwhelmed him, too. Mirabella stayed in position. He rolled his hips and screwed in deeper. She gasped with her chest compressed to his, and her breasts spilled out of the sides of her bikini.
A sly smile tilted the left corner of his mouth.
“Sei la ragazza più bella che abbia mai visto—You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known,” he said.
How many times would he tell her this? He said it often, and not just during sex. She could be bending over to pick up toys from the kids’ room. She could be elbow deep in pasta and gravy. She could be pacing her offi
ce on the phone with one of her designers, and he'd patiently wait at the door to say those words. She was so grateful that she learned Italian. Thank God in heaven for such a language. No woman should be denied the pleasure of hearing her husband profess his love to her with such beautiful fluidity.
Mirabella lifted her hips so she could brush her clit against the spy hairs at the base of his erection, as he delivered his down strokes. And all the while she kept her arms stretched up above her head. He chuckled, and his hand eased between them. He pinched her clit. It gave her a zing of passion.
“I like it when you do that,” she exhaled on an exalted breath.
He withdrew his cock to the midpoint. He was raised above her with one hand, in the way of an athlete. He made his hand into a fist, and squeezed her clit between the knuckles of his pointer and middle finger. With gentle pressure applied, he wiggled the tiny knob of flesh back and forth. Quick flicks caused so much teasingly sweet arousal, that firecracker hot bolts of piercing pleasure sparked. An explosion was followed by an implosion, and then he began to love her again. He dared her to climax with the fierce set of his jaw and piercing stare. He watched her. She parted her mouth and gasped, only to breathe through her torment. And then her lashes fluttered until her lids sealed shut and squeezed tight. Giovanni pulled and then released her clit. The new position had him raised above her. Braced for support with each hand pressed flat to the blanket on either side of her face. His torso was above hers, but his pelvic pumps kept going. She could imagine how his buttocks clenched and released after each thrust. She could feel the hard-veined ridges of his dick, even in the midst of the most sublime orgasm she’s ever experienced. She whimpered. She disobeyed him. Her arms went down. Her nails dug into the blanket, gripping the fine grains of sand beneath it into her clenched fist.
“Behave,” he groaned.
She nodded her compliance.
“I like it, Bella, owning you. I like it. My pussy.” Giovanni dropped his head and his forehead bumped her own. He watched with amusement as his slick cock drove down, and slid out of the valley between her dark thighs. The man had the endurance, grace, and strength of a champion. He would go the distance until she broke. And she did. She climaxed so hard from his masterful skills, her teeth chattered. And then she panted like a marathon runner when he finally stopped drilling her tender walls, and let her own her emotions again.
“Use your mouth, Gio,” she begged, and arched her back up and off the blanket. Of course she changed her mind. What woman wouldn't? She wanted to see his head go down. She wanted to see his face disappear between her thighs.
Giovanni sucked her quivering bottom lip. “Godere, bambina.”
“Please, Gio, I need you so badly. Please, I’m begging, give me, do me, baby, please.”
Her eyes remained closed. Her body was still sparking like an overcharged electric socket. She couldn't stop the quakes and pleasure stings in her pelvis. So she succumbed. She rode the wave of his take down like the wife of a boss. Her lashes fluttering, and her eyes rolling back under her lids. Just a touch from him made her weak. That's why the loving was one-of-a-kind.
“Fight for me,” he said.
“I—,” she panted.
Giovanni’s hands covered hers and their fingers locked. Mirabella moaned, moving with him, at this point lost in the motion. Giovanni drove his love for her in and out, over and over. He lowered his face and bit at her neck. Mirabella’s body temperature was so high now she felt as if her blood boiled in her veins, and he, her husband, lover, best-friend, showed her no mercy—full throttle pumping her dry, he rode her hard.
“You're a fighter, Bella. It's why I chose you to be my wife, to be the mother of my children. Don't be afraid. We need you. I need you,” he panted.
He asked her to fight for him? At first she wasn’t sure the meaning, but now she knew. He wanted her to go the distance. No matter how much pain, no matter the sacrifice, she had to fight for him. She had to save him. And then they collapsed. A tidal wave of release went through them. The rotation of his hips slowed. She had climaxed twice within his hold. She felt his entire body stiffen and lock up above her, readying his release into her. He pumped at her unrelentingly, pounding her into the hard sand. And she held on, taking it all in. Opening her eyes, she looked directly into his.
He gave her a satisfied smile. Her eyes closed and she held on through the very last sexual quake of his body. Feeling him bite down on her shoulder once more, she moaned. Finally spent, he collapsed on top of her. She struggled to breathe under the weight of him. Before she could object he lifted and eased out of her. Her vagina mourned his passage, and throbbed with a regretful sigh. Closing her eyes, she let the sea breeze wash over her aching center, and soothe the soreness in her body and heart. He lay next to her with his hand resting on her thigh.
“I will fight for you” she breathed into the universe.
“It’ll be hard. Maybe the hardest thing you’ve ever done,” he said.
“Not really. I’ve been fighting for this kind of love all my life,” she said.
He looked over at her. She smiled. He smiled.
“Me too.”
***
Mirabella turned over. She and Giovanni had made love under the stars on Mondello Beach. It was perfect. She reached for her husband. He wasn’t on the blanket with her any longer. Her hand went over and felt his absence. Her brows lowered with confusion. She lifted out of her dreamy state and looked around the beach. And then she saw him. Giovanni stood at the edge of the shore. He was naked. The moon was his spot light. The ocean waves were different this time. They were tall as ships and crashed over each other in a race to reach the shore. Lightning flashed. Mirabella looked up at the storm clouds.
“Gio! Caro. We need to go back to the beach cabin,” she said. The wind was strong. She stood and put her hand to her brow, and squinted against the fine grains of sand tossed into her eyes.
“Gio!” she yelled.
He didn’t look back. He started walking toward the sea. Confused, Mirabella ran after him. The blanket they slept on blew away. The beach pillow rolled out across the sand like a desert tumbleweed. The dark storm clouds had lowered funnels to the sea. Two of them danced across the water. They drew closer, and closer. And Giovanni kept walking out toward the ocean. He was waist deep.
“Gio! No! Stop! Nooo! Don’t! It’s too dangerous to swim now!”
A huge wave crashed over him. Mirabella was in a full sprint but the shoreline stretched further and further away. He came up from the deep waters and started to swim toward the storm.
“Nooo! Don’t go out there! Don’t go!” she screamed. The waves drew up like the hand of Neptune and punched down on him with the might of a herculean fist. He went under. Mirabella broke free from her fear and ran toward the water. She wasn’t afraid of the tall waves and sweeping currents. He’d taught her to swim. He’d taught her how to overcome fear. But these waters were different, dark as oil and deeper than her imagination. She was too late. The funnel clouds swept up the beach. She was hit with a blast of wind. Her body was airborne. She spun like a ballerina. Her head knocked left and right her arms flailing. She managed to look up to a clear night sky above with beautiful stars. But she could never reach it. She was trapped in the turning nightmare. She heard her children. Desperate, she fought against the wind as it tossed her in a spiraling frenzy. When she opened her eyes once more she saw Eve, and then Gino and Gianni. Her babies were caught up in the same storm. Their tiny bodies slamming into each other and being ripped apart like rag dolls. Mirabella screamed. And with a sudden blast she was thrown out of the wind funnel. She crashed several feet to the sandy floor. Was she dead? She wasn't. She screamed for her babies. She screamed for her husband. And when she sat up she saw another horror. Giovanni was on his knees before her. He was wet from the sea. And he openly wept.
"Perdonami, Bella, I couldn't save them. I couldn't," he wailed. Before him were her children. All of them with twisted mang
led bodies. None of it made sense.
“This is not happening!” she screamed.
A man walked out from the sea. He was dry to the bone. He had no face, wore nothing but shadows for clothes. The man stopped behind Giovanni, cocked the gun that was pointed to the back of his skull. Giovanni lifted his tear stained face. “Everything is my fault. I want you to know I tried. I tried hard to be different. To be a better man than my father. To be the man you wanted. I am so sorry, Bella.”
“No! Please! Please don't kill him. No please!” she pleaded and scrambled toward him and her children on her hands and knees. It was too late. The trigger was pulled. Giovanni's head exploded in front of her. Mirabella screamed. She screamed and her sanity shattered into a million pieces.
“Noooooo!” she screamed.
Mirabella thrashed in bed screaming. She kicked until she flopped over to the floor. The hard smack of her head to the side of the nightstand woke her. It was then she heard more screams. It was the sound of her kids that finally broke the nightmarish hell in her mind. Lightening flashed from her bedroom window. Confused she looked around to find her room empty. And then she heard thunder boom like a cannon blast. She scrambled to escape her bed and raced into the kids’ room. They were alive. Both of her sons were standing in their cribs crying. Eve sat up in bed holding her doll. She looked toward the window and the storm outside of it with fear. Lightening flashed so bright Mirabella thought it had landed in the room with them.
A weeping Mirabella went to her sons. She picked them up as another boom of thunder blasted and shook the panes of the window glass. “Eve, come into my room! Run! Now! Now!” she yelled, which certainly terrified her little girl. “Andiamo!”
“Yes, Mommy!” Eve said and hurried to follow her. When Mirabella returned to the room the men had charged in. Mirabella held her crying sons and kissed their faces. They were alive. They were alive. “I’m here. I'll protect you. I'll protect you! I'll protect you!" she chanted and soothed her babies.
