by S. W. Frank
He scoffed, luck, that’s a roll of the dice, and an outcome, which nobody can cheat.
The vehicle reached Nico’s place without a hitch.
Alfonzo surveyed the grounds as cars went close to the house. Usually, Nico comes to the door. He readied his weapon, and nodded. The men exited their cars, checking the area with their senses, looking for anything out of the ordinary and found nothing.
Alfonzo stepped on the ground.
With a guard ahead and another in the rear, they approached the door.
Alfonzo’s gut flipped and kicked. He thought of Nico’s distress call. The Nico he knew never spoke in such despair or helplessness. He had a sluggish quality to his voice. He thought about Giuseppe a while back when he’d suffered a concussion and started talking out of his head.
Alfonzo hissed, gesturing for the guys to spread out. Their weapons were drawn.
That call from Nico was a set-up to get him here from a man drugged or under duress.
Alfonzo went against the wall, out of view of the windows. The cracking noises were audible. Gunshots suppressed. He heard the men fall, felt stinging to his arms and hit the dirt. The gun clanged, so did his head. He experienced a weird sensation.
Whatever had penetrated his skin rendered him immobile, causing an instant paralysis.
Fucking slick for a hit, he scoffed during rumination. Disable the target and then allow the victim to observe the impending execution.
What crazy wicked and macabrelyimpressive shit is that?
Alfonzo recognized where he went wrong when figures emerged from Nico’s shed, their rapid movements loud in the welcoming dawn.
He reacted in haste to a threat regarding someone he loved and respected. Nico, warned him years ago, don’t take the bait. Yet, Nico didn’t understand they weren’t reared the same way. Yes, he killed, did all kinds of bad shit but he wasn’t frozen to loving people or shaped to murder for a living. Everything he’d done was in the act of self-defense to keep safe his heart and Nico was part of that.
Scuffed leather shoes, perfect for the terrain halt near his face. Alfonzo’s lips didn’t say shit, although he demanded them to tell the pendejo to go to hell.
The wheels of a van, rolling to the shoes and an ant running were the view. He changed the channel, just as he had done the night of his Uncle’s murder. He didn’t want to watch the mechanics of his demise.
His eyes ascended, a mere fraction east to absorb the sky. The beautiful colors that bloomed in glowing vibrancy, he predicted would bring sunny weather.
In his mind he roared with laughter he lived as long as he had and was blessed to marry his sweetheart, have wonderful children and find brothers.
The 27th was only a number.
“I’ve been lucky, and no bullet erases my imprint. My children and buildings I’ve constructed will stand long after I’m gone, comprende?” He reflected during an inner monologue. He’d had many of those over the years.
Chapter 23
Selange rolled over. Alfonzo’s side of the bed was empty. Sluggish from alcohol and sexually hung-over, she lifted up on her elbows, swiveled in a bobble-head simulation to gaze at the bathroom.
“Geez, that’s far,” she said to the empty suite.
The pressure against her bladder beat her tush out of bed and she scurried across the floor with labor like breaths.
The relief after is heaven, and bathing is euphoric without the children interrupting early in the morning. She had that private, a mother’s pep talk and reflection window to dress, do something for herself before devoting the day to work and children.
She stretched, took a cleansing breath and trudged downstairs for coffee, passing Anita on the stairs.
“I was just coming to wake you. Would you like café or tea?”
“Thanks Anita.”
Anita continued upstairs. “I’ve given breakfast to la Capitan.” The woman laughed. “Apparently, Alfonzo had to leave in a hurry this morning.”
Selange nodded. Alfonzo’s meeting was later; she supposed there was another emergency he needed to resolve. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d leave at odd hours. “Thanks.”
The Capo stood when she entered the dining room. “Buenos Dias Mrs. Diaz.”
“Good morning,” she replied and passed to the kitchen for a cup of caffeine for that boost to help remove the sludge from her brain.
She soon joined the Capo, sat sipping, looking over the cup, and noticing unease on the Capo’s face. Not a single word exchanged between them. Not everyone can maintain a poker face.
The cup went to her lips. The long sip became a slurp. Upstairs there wasn’t sound. It was six thirty on a Sunday morning and the children would sleep for another hour or so before the raucous day began.
The Capo checked his watch nervously.
“Okay, what’s going on, where is he?” she asked in annoyance.
“I’m not sure. He had an urgent call from Nico this morning and said he’d contact me in an hour, he hasn’t yet.”
“How long has it been?”
“About two.”
Selange stood and went upstairs for her cell and called her husband.
When Alfonzo didn’t answer she called Nico.
When Nico didn’t answer she called Ari.
When Ari didn’t answer she called Sophie.
Sophie answered. “Buongiorno Selange, aye, it is early is everything well?”
“No, I can’t raise Al or Nico. Have you any idea where they are?”
“Ne,” then she paused. “Ne I do not.”
Sophie’s hesitation elevated the sound of her internal alarm. “Okay, okay Sophie, I have to go.”
When she returned downstairs, she had on a hat and loafers clutching her purse with the phone inside. She learned if she needed answers, the source is where they’d originate. The locator pinpointed Alfonzo’s location.
Nico’s home is where she went, accompanied by escorts packing heat. The Capo remained at her request to do as Alfonzo instructed, supervise the less seasoned guards.
The ride was a silent one.
The SUV speeding onto Nico’s property did so for a reason. On the ground were Alfonzo’s guards. She waited as the bodies were checked. They’d all been shot.
The Boss’ wife was not allowed out of the car.
“We need to check the perimeter,” the guy wearing Ray Ban’s said.
Selange sat forward, anxious for them to finish.
They looked around, and then they went inside and after what seemed an eternity emerged with solemn expressions.
The devil couldn’t hold Selange imprisoned. She threw open the car door and ran toward the house. Her foot stepped on something hard before she reached the entry and she halted.
Her eyes descended.
She had stepped on Alfonzo’s cell.
In slow genuflection she reached for the titanium device. Her fingers curled over the smooth case and she rose ever so slowly at the sight of a bloodstain giving color to the ground.
Her heart dropped to her feet.
There were numerous questions and fatal scenarios racing around her mind.
“He’s not in there. There’s a body but it’s not the Boss,” a guard said before she turned the doorknob.
She had to see. Nico was caring for his daughter and Anna.
Seeing their bodies was necessary.
What she found was an ordinarily rustic villa with Ari inspired furnishings. In the living room, a chair was turned over with blood nearby. She walked closer, peered over the top of the sofa and cupped her mouth as she cried.
“Oh…oh…. oh…no…Anna!”
The cry within and the tears outward brought a heartbroken mother to race upstairs, pushing open doors to find Semira’s bedroom. The pink walls splattered with primary colors, miniature furniture and girly things was absent a child.
“Mira…Semira…its Auntie. Are you hiding?” she asked in a forced cheer to draw the girl out in case she was frightened.
Then she heard a rustling sound from across the hall, and from where she stood could see something move beneath a comforter.
The joyful sadness that escaped was a cry as the blanket slid down from the child’s head. “Semira –‘Mira hi honey –hi!”
Selange ran to the master bedroom and embraced Semira. She rocked and hugged the child, crying out her relief that she was well.
Distraught poor Anna was not.
Selange began a mental checklist of things to do. A part of her had gone missing and she needed it returned. She squeezed Semira tightly, her life could not continue with a chamber missing. She needed her heart found to be whole again.
Find my heart.
Find my heart.
Find my heart.
***
“Clean this place thoroughly!” Sophie ordered the men in specialty gear that arrived by truck.
She’d come at Selange’s request and on the way she made several phone calls and stopped at a hotel for Lorenzo Cuvato, who she believed might be of assistance.
She informed Yosef out of necessity that Lorenzo Cuvato is not to be harmed. If by chance what she believed was correct, he may well be Vincenzo Serano’s biological son. Nico is the only person that could tell them if Vincenzo had spoken of a child.
Nico, her beloved nipote may also be dead.
When Selange passed with Semira and a small suitcase, Sophie touched her arm. “Do not worry, we will find them.”
The vote of confidence was good, but Selange suspected Sophie was equally uncertain if they would. She considered telling Sophie of her plans in the event Alfonzo did not appear by nightfall, and then disregarded the notion. Sophie would only attempt to discourage her actions.
The bodies were in the truck. The stains removed and a rug replaced. The burials were to be cremation and next of kin sent authentic death certificates and cash, a whole bunch.
Anna’s family was the Serano’s and the saddest reality was a baby would not have her mother when released from the hospital.
Sergio had arrived as the refrigerated truck rolled out the gates. He spotted the activity, and saw Alfonzo’s wife and others walking toward cars.
Selange was about to enter an SUV after Semira when he jogged over.
“Hey Selange. Where’s Nico? What’s going on?”
The girl was told to play with her doll and Selange closed the door to talk out of earshot from the child.
“Anna’s dead. Nico and Alfonzo are missing.”
‘What?” The shock registered in his eyes. “I was just here last night. Lucia’s been missing since yesterday and this morning on the news, a body was found at the mall where she’d gone. I can’t believe this…my dad…I mean Unk told me to come back…”
“Your dad?” Selange asked. The Freudian slip hadn’t passed her ears. She was a nervous wreck, yet she heard just fine.
“It’s a long story. I found out Nico’s my pops not Vincenzo.”
Sophie approached, she’d brought along a guy she’d introduced earlier as Lorenzo. The man’s family was killed a few weeks ago and from she was told the same people might have taken her husband, Nico and possibly Lucia.
Lorenzo interjected himself into the discussion. “I would like to ride with your people. I do not know that area, but I have seen one killer.”
Selange’s lips pursed. She considered his request. “Bring back my husband and this girl’s father. Do that Lorenzo Cuvato, restore our hearts.”
Lorenzo nodded. The anguish in the eyes of the Don’s wife bespoke a woman deeply in love. He thought of Chocolate’s description of the family. They weren’t much different from others who found comfort in each other. Their attraction to the outsider wasn’t solely beauty or status. Lorenzo stood in the presence of loving people. He had that once upon a time.
“Bring back our hearts,” a woman in need had beseeched and Lorenzo swore a silent oath that he would. Perhaps, that might aid the healing from his many losses –perhaps he’d die sober in the effort with a broken heart.
They all turned as a sleek car with tinted windows pulled up.
Ari and the boys emerged.
Sophie had sent a driver to the airstrip. When they were en route home she broke the news via cellular. They were an enforcer’s children and wife. Yet, their reactions were that of heartbroken people without a patriarch.
Darren ran into the house and then returned demanding to know the whereabouts of Anna’s body.
“She was taken away for immediate burial.” Sophie said softly.
The teen groaned. “No! Zia…por favore…bring her back Zia! What happened? Somebody help me understand, dad is supposed to protect us…he never fails…what happened?”
Aaron took hold of his brother as he wept, shouting for vengeance and Sergio frowned. These were his half-brothers and he loved them more than ever.
He stood, squared his shoulders and decided, Lorenzo Cuvato wasn’t family but he was.
“I’m riding along.” Sergio exclaimed. “This bastard might have my wife!”
Ari walked to the car where Semira struggled to get down. She smiled when she saw her child unharmed, as her sons pledged their allegiance. “We’re going!”
Of course they were going. They were sons of a wonderful man.
Ari’s eyes watered. She didn’t have a clue what to do. Anna was dead, Nico missing and the prospect of losing him an overwhelming emotion akin to panic. Ari had finally given every fiber to sew a good marriage. The threads of her husband had intertwined and now were tearing apart from the inside, hurting like never before.
She cried then, leaning her head against the car, holding her daughter protectively to her legs, so sick inside she nearly fainted. The arms that surrounded her were strong.
“Mom we’ll find dad, don’t cry. We’ll find him!” Her sons chorused.
The person she leaned to for comfort wasn’t a male but Selange.
They were sisters in solidarity, grieving for the lost.
Chapter 24
Alfonzo awoke with a splitting headache. The smell of the sea was pungent. His legs were rubber, but he could feel again, which he considered a good omen.
The bad news; he was shackled.
He peered surveyed his surroundings, only to ascertain he was held in some form of compartment to a moving truck, but when he focused, he determined it was a shipping container.
A moan coming from somewhere is how he noticed the basketball size hole in the center of the wall. He slid to it, peered inside and spotted Lucia.
He moved his mouth circularly, checking his oral muscles and they worked.
He shouted. “Lucia! Lucia! It’s Alfonzo!”
She heard. The loud groan and the attempt to raise her head, told him she had. He yanked at the handcuffs on his wrists attached to the thick bar running the length of the compartment.
Alfonzo rattled the heavy chains when he attempted to widen his legs and tried to pull out his feet. The ac
tion failed.
He tugged with every ounce of strength on the rod and it didn’t budge.
Shit!
He stuck his face in the hole to assess Lucia’s condition.
He saw the blotches on her skin, and the clumps of hair on the floor. Clearly Lucia had been mistreated, however her moans were evidence she survived. He didn’t know how long that might remain if they were imprisoned.
He spotted the hanging lamp, hooked to a metal clasp at the ceiling and noticed her feet were practically free, unlike his. She’d been so battered, perhaps she didn’t realize.
“Lucia, chica, come on listen, you have to get home to Junior. Sergio’s worried sick about you. He went looking for you when you didn’t answer his calls. Mami, he loves you and I know you love him, right?”
The moans lessened.
Then Alfonzo heard a male voice.
Shit, he could recognize Nico’s grumble without trying. The man was alive, likely in a similar unit. The knowledge boosted his spirits. Alfonzo considered their options, and their best bet was Lucia.
Then he heard the clang of the door and the heavy handle pull downward. He hopped back to his original position, feigning unconsciousness. Cool air and the unmistakable smell of the ocean entered the confined space along a person. The echo of heavy feet and the rumbling of machinery filtered in and he guessed he might be held captive somewhere near a construction site on the coast.
Docks.
His facial muscles remained relaxed.
Construction… and docks…shipping…shipping is Bruno’s expertise.
Selange’s warning reverberated. “I don’t trust Bruno. Honey listen.”
But, he hadn’t did he? He figured Bruno’s son had been the only plotter, when in fact it appeared his father orchestrated everything.
That bastard is with my mother, was Alfonzo’s cacophonous realization of the threat to his madre.
He played the game of duplicity as a Master plays chess.
He worried now for his mama, swearing he’d butcher the pendejo if he harmed her.
Bruno had recently purchased a run-down section near the port of Giardini-Naxos. The shipping company hadn’t utilized the properties in years. The owner was in a nursing home and when he died his widow liquidated everything he owned. Bruno bought the commercial land dirt cheap, and the location was ideal for smuggling, and not to mention dismantling bodies.
