by Laura Acton
“You can read,” she snapped in her high-pitched voice.
Narciso lifted the sheets and unfolded them. His eyes widened. Dumbfounded his gaze returned to her. “You can’t do this!”
“Watch me,” Alicia bit back.
“You’ll end up with nothing given the stipulations in the prenup.” Narciso tossed the papers on the desk and smirked at his wife. His prenup was ironclad and written to ensure Alicia would never receive a dime if she ever dared to divorce him. Just like the one he had drawn up and sweet-talked Donata into signing. The one which gave him total control of Amedeo Systems.
He bided his time while married to Donata, serving out a sentence until Dante turned twenty-six. She had been more housekeeper and nanny than a wife to him. Though he carried a flame for her in high school, it extinguished after he married her and she continued to mourn Leonardo and sing his praises at every opportunity. And the fact she doted on Dante and Gina.
God, how I hate Dante. Every year the boy grew more like Leonardo. My former self-righteous best friend, a Dudley Do-Right if there ever was one, had the audacity to place me in the crosshairs of the Cignotti family when he turned down the deal I negotiated with Giulio. We both could’ve been rich men, but Leonardo’s morals got in the way. Alicia’s annoying whine intruded and pulled Narciso from his musings.
“I followed the terms of our prenup to the letter. Even more so. It has been more than three years. I’m divorcing you, and you will pay me the monthly spousal support of twenty thousand until I remarry. Which I never plan to do. Being married to the likes of you was enough to turn me off men altogether. I will enjoy living off your money and never have to put up with you again.”
Narciso smugly grinned. “I think not. Did you bother to review the entire document or were you so focused on the money?”
A calculating expression came to Alicia’s face. She was not as dumb as Narciso believed her to be, and never had been. “Believe me. I read the whole thing. Did you?”
Her words gave Narciso pause. In actuality, he had not. He directed his lawyer to draw up the papers after detailing his provisions. As a long-time retainer for the Cignotti family, Levi Saltzmann, a timid man by nature, was paid exceedingly well to take care of all legal matters. Levi didn’t possess the courage to alter the contract.
Alicia’s smile grew as she tapped her foot. “Levi is such an amenable man given the right incentive. I learned from watching you. I suggest you have your newest blonde bimbo retrieve your copy.”
The piper is paid, Narciso will learn he is not God’s gift to women. Pivoting, Alicia flounced out of the room with her hired security men following her. She finagled a brilliant prenup which set her up comfortably. Alicia would never need to work a day in her life and could live in luxury. Some might call her a gold-digger, she preferred smart businesswoman.
Narciso stared at Alicia, her shapely ass swaying as she exited. Levi wouldn’t dare cross me. He rose and moved to the safe behind the reproduction painting of Giotto’s The Kiss of Judas. He punched in the code and opened his lockbox where he kept important documents … like both of Leonardo’s wills.
He pulled out his original prenup and returned to his seat. As he read, all appeared to be in order until he reached one straightforward paragraph which caused his blood to boil.
If no children are born after three years of marriage, the union will be deemed barren, and all previous provisions of this document will be null. Furthermore, should divorce occur, initiated by either party, Alicia Jacobowitz Ricigliano shall receive the sum of twenty thousand dollars monthly until she remarries.
Entering the office carrying the daily mail, Anastasia wondered what upset her mark today. His ordinarily olive skin flushed red giving him a sickly appearance, and she noted the vein in his neck pulsated as he gripped papers in his hand. “Sir, I brought you the mail,” she said demurely speaking Italian with a perfect feigned accent.
Controlling his anger, barely, Narciso peered up at his latest conquest. The new maid, Lavinia Salvatori, fresh off the boat, had been easy to seduce. A few compliments and she was his. “Put it down, and leave for now,” he replied in Italian because she didn’t speak much English … much like Donata. Keeping his former wife from learning English kept her isolated and under his control. He might do the same thing with Lavinia.
Anastasia complied, giving Narciso a coy smile before sauntering out. Tonight, she would replace Leonardo’s updated will with a copy and supply the original to Dom so they could prove Ricigliano’s deception. She was happy to help Dom in this mission since she was currently on a month leave after completing her last covert assignment.
Narciso flicked through his mail and halted when he found something from Saltzmann. He ripped open the elegant envelope and stared at the engraved invitation. A roar erupted from Narciso as the paper fluttered to the marble tile and he pounded his fist on his teakwood desk.
Zina Cignotti, daughter of Mr. Giulio and Natalina Cignotti,
and
Levi Saltzmann, son of Mr. Hiram and Rivka Saltzmann,
request the honor of your presence at their wedding
Toronto South Detention Centre – Sector B3 D – 1:00 p.m.
Uranus Smellie sat on the stool attached of the octagon-shaped brushed steel table in the common area of his sector. He picked at his unappetizing cheese sandwich, wishing for ramen of all things. The lime green painted doors, supposedly chosen to brighten up the facility, only served to depress him further.
He wouldn’t be in this fix if he had not crossed the wrong person during the poker game he hosted in his dorm room. Luis Garcia had appeared an easy mark when Dakota brought him to the game. They both led Luis on, losing a significant amount in the first few nights of poker. A ruse which often worked on their other marks. The fifth time they played, Luis bet more substantial amounts, expecting to win again, and that is when he and Dakota reeled in their lucrative fish. It would be steak instead of ramen for the next semester.
Unfortunately, Luis didn’t take losing well. The bowie knife Luis used to gut Dakota before his very eyes, scared the crap out of Uranus. From that point on, his life was no longer his. Whatever Luis and his buddies wanted from him he did … like posing as the University bomber.
He hadn’t expected the cop to race after him and thought he got away when the officer ran into the unicyclists. But he didn’t, and they found him. Now he must remain silent, or his entire family would be dead. He wished he could spill the beans for a lesser sentence because he was not the one to plant the bomb, he only stood outside so the cameras could capture him and make it appear the serial bomber was responsible.
An argument broke out between two detainees at the adjacent table. Uranus left his unwanted sandwich, wanting no part in the melee, intending to return to his cell. The punch caught him off guard. More a lover than a fighter, he turned and tried to run. He was set upon by others and dragged into the middle of the escalating brawl.
Uranus screamed as blow after blow landed on him but stopped, his blood running cold as a scarred face appeared before him and whispered, “You’ve served your purpose. Time to die.”
Correctional officers rushed in with riot gear, rapidly getting the upper hand on the detainees, pulling them apart and moving them to their cells. As the room cleared, one detainee lay on the floor with eyes open, unresponsive to the command to get up.
The closest guard knelt next to the man, a sense of dread filling him as he reached out to touch the man’s face. His stomach turned as the detainee’s head lolled to the side. “Jesus Christ, he’s dead!” He stood and radioed his floor sergeant as the others locked down the section. An investigation would need to take place to determine who killed him.
Toronto South Detention Centre – Interview Room – 1:45 p.m.
Pope paced waiting for Smellie to be brought to him. Still steamed at the way Constable Broderick spoke to him, Commander Gambrill’s conciliatory words on the way out had not done enough to assuage his
pride. Though he might be required to hand over all the evidence, that did not prevent him from speaking to Smellie. He grabbed lunch and then drove to the maximum-security detention facility where Mr. Smellie awaited trial.
The door opened and instead of Uranus Smellie, in walked the Correctional Manager, Hector Carballal. “Inspector, would you please come with me, we could use your assistance. There has been a murder in section B3 D.”
Pope stood. “Who was killed?”
Hector reported, “The man you came to interview, Uranus Smellie.”
Lighter Moments of Life
28
January 24
CFB Trenton – Main Gate – 1630 Hours
Master Corporal Byron McKay noted the two Humvees approaching the base gate. As they slowed to a stop, he exited the guard shack, recognizing the returning vehicles but not the occupants. The men in front wore tan berets denoting Special Forces. As the driver turned to him, McKay requested, “Identification.”
Winds showed his and Blaze’s credentials. “Master Warrant Officer Simons and Captain Blain. We are catching a flight and need to hurry.”
Checking the list, McKay said, “Says here two civilians are traveling with you. I must check their identification.”
Dan gave his and Jim’s IDs to Winds to pass to the MP. “Hi, McKay.”
The familiar voice made Byron pause. “Well, I’ll be. Didn’t think I’d ever set eyes on you again, Broderick.” His eyes caught sight of the captain’s glare from the passenger seat and reverted to his professional demeanor.
“Just passing through,” Dan responded.
After inspecting the licenses and making note, Byron passed the cards back to the amber-eyed soldier. “I assume you know where you are going?”
“Yes.” Winds kept his answer short. They were running a bit behind schedule. After picking up Jim they had to make an unplanned stop at Blondie’s to grab his service dress uniform since the kid had not packed it last night.
McKay motioned to another MP to lift the bar allowing them access to the base as he checked IDs of those in the second vehicle before both sped towards the airfield. He wondered what Broderick was doing with a JTF2 unit and why he was a civilian. Brodericks live and breathe military. Byron smirked recalling he dubbed Hunter and Broderick, Saint and Sinner in Halifax. His reveries terminated when another vehicle pulled up, and he refocused on his duties.
Airplane En Route to CFB Edmonton – 1830 Hours
Blaze and Winds spent the first part of the flight going through the evidence Blondie brought with him. Though everything pointed to Plouffe, and Tapia’s rantings contained authentic details only the man would know, something in Blaze’s gut questioned why a man would write this all down. A military man, no less a former MP would understand things like this might be used against him. That is if he were still alive.
He added to the facts that Garcia went to pieces before swimming with the fishes and now Smellie was dead. Something smelled fishy … no pun intended. The call Blondie received from Commander Gambrill while traveling to Trenton, informing him of Smellie’s untimely demise meant they could neither confirm nor deny the validity of this so-called evidence. No one implicated remained alive, and Plouffe had not been explicitly cited in Tapia’s written rantings.
Dan rested, laying across a section of metal seats in the loud, bare-bones, aircraft. He realized Winds and Blaze dug through the material provided by Pope, but he didn’t want to participate. Keeping his eyes closed, he began the process of readying himself for the coming days. With the trial moved, he would be stuck in Edmonton for more days than required to give his testimony.
Listening to Beauty, which Loki handed to him before he left HQ and told him it was fully charged, Dan’s mind reviewed his interactions with Plouffe. Even today he couldn’t find a single item which should’ve tipped him off to Plouffe’s machinations. The crafty bastard had effectively used his misplaced hatred for his father against him.
A tap on his shoulder prompted Dan to crack open one eye. “What?”
“How do you know the entry guard?” Jim shouted to be heard over the aircraft engines and Dan’s music as he held out a bottle of water, making sure Dan stayed hydrated given his recent kidney injury.
Dan sighed, pulled out his earbuds, sat up, and took the offered water. “Did training for the Quick Response Force with him at LFAATC near Halifax.” He uncapped the bottle and chugged down half the contents.
Winds flashed a bright smile. “Sinner days.”
“Yeah. But I’m not telling you any more stories.”
“Aw come on. At least tell me about the twins, Tina and Nita.” Winds waggled his brows. He wanted a lighthearted subject. The kid would be dealing with enough shit soon enough.
Blaze closed the box and grinned. “Winds, give it a rest. Blondie never talks about his ladies.” Appreciating Winds purpose, but grasping he picked the wrong subject, he rectified the error. “I realize a growing boy like you requires tons of calories but does TRF pay so little you must stock up on dog food?”
The left field comment made Dan, Jim, and Winds laugh while the rest of his unit screwed up their faces in confusion. Blaze sat back and waited for the inevitable questions to start pouring out.
“You eat dog chow?” Russ gaped at Blondie with an incredulous expression.
“Well, it is better than some things I’ve eaten.” Dan gave Blaze wink and a lopsided grin.
Blaze nodded, though the truth of Blondie’s words were not lost on him as he recalled what the kid survived on while being held captive.
Catching the wink, Angus chuckled at Russ’ gullibility. “Enough with the crap, Blondie. Did you buy a dog or something?”
A grin which lit Dan’s eyes came to his face. “Nah. My neighbor, Mrs. Stark, got a new puppy. She is frail, and with as often as the elevator in my complex is down, she finds it difficult to carry the food up. So, I stocked her up for the next few weeks since I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone.”
“What kind of dog?” Duncan, who loved all animals, inquired.
“A border collie. He is tri-colored and full of energy.” Dan recalled the night he stopped by Eleanor’s place and met the pup. The little guy’s body was a perpetual motion machine, and his tail wagged constantly. When she asked Dan what to name him, the first thing which came to his mind popped out, and she loved his unintended suggestion.
“What’s his name?” Hal warmed to the subject. He considered buying a pet for his children but hadn’t decided on a cat or dog. He preferred dogs because they could be trained to guard the house while he was deployed. But his wife wanted cats … yes, plural, as in at least four, one for each of them to call their own. Negotiations were still ongoing, though he may end up returning home to a house full of cats, which might spur him to adopt a puppy from the local shelter.
Not willing to admit he named the dog, Dan said, “She calls him Mr. Waggles.” When the guys burst out laughing at the silly moniker, Dan was damned glad he didn’t stake claim and shrugged. “What can I say, she is a sweet lady in her seventies, and as imaginative as this group is with code names.”
The remainder of the trip was spent in light conversation on a variety of subjects, all understanding that come tomorrow, heavy topics and painful memories would surface for four of the seven men on board the aircraft.
Falcon Hardware and Home Improvement – 8:00 p.m.
Not happy about frequenting this particular store, but they offered the best priced and largest selection of home alarms, Lexa hoped she wouldn’t run into Stan. My team is right. My dating history with men whose names start with S is terrible. The four most notable are Settimo, Sven, Skeeter, and Stan the Man.
As she perused the options, making comparisons between two, a niggling sense of someone starring at her triggered Lexa to turn to the right. She almost groaned out loud as Stan hurried towards her.
“Queen of the Hammer!” Stan moved in, happy Lexa’s teammates were not lurking anywhere near her t
oday like when she was in here after the man went nutzo with a nail gun.
“I’m in a hurry, Stan. Don’t’ have time to talk.” Lexa turned away, realizing she behaved rudely, but not caring at this point.
Not taking the hint, Stan moved closer to her personal space. “So, you’re thinking of putting in home protection? An excellent choice for someone as dainty as you. Keep the stalkers at bay.
An arm going around her shoulders, and a smooth tone, made Lexa nearly jump out of her skin, but she relaxed swiftly upon recognizing the voice belonged to Sergeant Valentine Walker, Hammer to his buddies. These Special Forces guys sure are stealthy.
“Honey, did you select the one you want to install?”
Lexa smiled. “Not quite, give me a minute.” She took a furtive glance at Stan to view his reaction and covered her snickering with a cough.
Upon receiving a death stare from the imposing, bodybuilder type man with shaggy hair and a full beard, Stan took two steps back. “Um, if you need assistance in making your selection, I’m here to help.”
“Be gone. My Queen does not require your assistance.” Hammer glared at the smarmy, skirt chaser until the man backed out of the aisle. Blondie specifically requested he be the one to watch over Lexa for two reasons. First, he was the only married man of his unit, happily married. Second, though he would’ve liked it to be the first, he was the most skilled at stealth of his men. Blondie wanted someone capable of blending into the shadows but who would be there in a moment’s notice if Lexa became a target.
Although this did not fit the threat category, and Blondie made sure to tell him Lexa could take out a man double her size with no trouble, Hammer still felt compelled to step forward and block this jerk’s advances. He would chalk it up to watching Blondie’s back since this woman meant the world to him.
Though in truth Blondie never said the exact words, his requests gave his intentions away. So did Blaze’s private chat, telling him that if any harm came to Lexa, Blaze would hold him personally accountable and would take it out in his hide upon his return from Edmonton.
