A large oak table that could seat two dozen was between the house and the pool. Benches with thick cushions flanked it. The tabletop contained sparkling water, wine, and small bowls of nuts and olives and cheeses. On a small side table, a woman in a black dress was working, leaning over a selection of tantalizingly smelling food.
“Shall we?” AnnaMarie said gesturing toward the table.
Eva lingered to see where the couple sat. Don Pedro, of course, sat in a cushiony chair at the head of the table with AnnaMarie on his right. Eva took a spot to his left, facing the blonde.
Don Pedro nibbled on the nuts and olives as he spoke, grasping each morsel with a well-manicured finger.
“Just so you know, I never signed on to your death warrant,” he said, sighing dramatically. “Your father was good to me when I was a kid. But you have to understand that ten years ago, when the powers that be ordered your death, I was not in the same circumstances as I find myself in today.”
He paused. Eva remained silent, keeping her facial expression neutral, even nonchalant.
“If I would’ve protested or argued with them in your defense I would’ve been considered the enemy. In fact, I am certain I would not be in the position of power I’m in now. I would not be in this beautiful home with my, as you called her, exquisite wife. I might not even be alive.”
“So it all worked out well for you,” Eva said dryly and took a sip of her water.
Don Pedro exhaled and then nodded, pressing his lips together tightly. “Yes. Yes, it did.”
He reached into the bowl of nuts and plucked two cashews, popping them into his mouth. Eva was slightly disgusted watching his wet lips move as he chewed. She tried to hide it. She glanced over at AnnaMarie and found the woman staring at her.
It was unsettling. Eva stared back. It was rare someone could hold her fiery, black-eyed gaze for long, but AnnaMarie studied her like she was a bug under a microscope, even tilting her head slightly. Eva finally looked away. She didn’t have time for games or to engage in petty power struggles with a woman who played no role in her mission today.
Turning toward Don Pedro, Eva smiled. “That is all the past.”
He smiled back.
As he extended his arm and grasped an olive between his fingers, Eva reached out suddenly and seized his wrist.
“But now you are the boss. Capo dei capi,” the Boss of all Bosses. “Now, everyone must do what you say, no?”
Their eyes locked as she spoke. She loosened her grip on his wrist before drawing her hand back. As if released from a spell, he drew back his own hand, leaving the olive resting on the table. “It is more complicated than that.”
“Is it?”
The sharp click of a safety being released from a gun sent a thrill of alarm through Eva. Her head snapped toward the noise. AnnaMarie held the gun just above the surface of the flowered tablecloth. Her smile was deadly. “Don Pedro gave his word that you would be safe during your visit to Sicily. I made no such assurances.”
Eva leaned back in her seat, assessing the new situation.
“So that’s how it is?” She smiled and turned to Don Pedro. He blushed and stared at the tablecloth.
At that moment, Eva dismissed him completely and turned to AnnaMarie.
“Let’s talk business.”
13
As the women talked, the servant in the black dress dished up a meal that Eva knew she’d remember forever and not just because AnnaMarie kept the gun pointed at Eva as they ate. It started with a mint and orange cuttlefish salad followed by a small portion of caramelized goat cheese and pistachio ravioli with thyme honey and then ended with a seared mackerel fillet accented with a saffron sauce.
Eva knew the particular details of her meal because as each dish came out, the woman in black explained the offering with reverence.
Until the mackerel, the il secondo—the main dish—was served and eaten, AnnaMarie had spent the meal talking about her own history in the Mafiosa.
“My mother was a prostitute and made me also pleasure her customers,” AnnaMarie had said without prelude as soon as the primo, the ravioli, was served. “I killed the third man who raped me. I stabbed him in the eye.”
She spoke without emotion. Eva did not offer sympathy or comment but also did not look away as the woman spoke.
“My mother was killed to punish me. I’d already run away. I was living with Don Carlo Bramarro.”
AnnaMarie paused after saying the name. Of course she did.
Because Eva knew the name well. He was one of her sworn enemies. At one point, when Eva was a child, he was the most powerful Mafioso in all of Sicily and possibly Southern Italy as well. Until Eva became a mob boss. Before she could kill him, he’d died on his own peaceful terms. Something Eva thought was a damn shame.
“He’d found me weeping in an alley and took me back to his home. He promised to never touch me unless I wanted to be touched. After a while, I went to him and shared his bed. Until the day he died.”
Eva watched for any reaction from Don Pedro, but he kept his head down and shoveled food into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten for weeks.
“Toward the end, he was very ill and bedridden, so he taught me how to run the operations. Sometimes that involved stepping in on my own to handle situations where enforcement was needed. The beauty was, as I’m sure you’ve also learned, Sicilian men underestimate women. A woman who appears at their door in a pretty dress carrying a plate of biscotto or cannoli can gain entrance into the most guarded fortresses. And once there, we can easily kill if we are trained correctly, no?”
She didn’t wait for Eva to respond.
“When Don Carlo died, I was bereft. I had nobody. Nothing. I’d miscarried three times with him. I had no children. No lover. Nothing. I’d lost everything,” she said. “Except an empire to continue running.”
“Of course, the Mafioso would not follow me or do my bidding. Unlike my dear Don Carlo, the other men’s view of women was severely limited. They view us only as servants or sex toys. The Madonna or the Whore,” AnnaMarie said, taking a delicate bite of ravioli. “There was no in between.”
Eva could not argue, so she kept quiet and let the blonde continue her monologue.
“Until you came around, the idea of a woman in charge was unheard of,” AnnaMarie said. “I needed to attach myself to a man and rise to power quietly and secretly behind him as a figurehead.”
Eva nodded without speaking.
“I was very lucky that one of the mourners who came to Don Carlo’s mass and funeral was Don Pedro. I don’t think I’d ever seen such a clean, sophisticated, and well-mannered man,” she said.
Don Pedro, who had a mouthful of food, raised his wine glass and smiled at his wife.
“He was also extremely attractive,” AnnaMarie continued as if Don Pedro was not even there. “All of this made up for the lack of spark in the bedroom, but we still managed to produce two children.”
Instead of shooting a glance at Don Pedro who had just received a verbal vasectomy, Eva stared at the woman, taking in her words: “Produced two children.” She’d never heard a mother refer to having children in this way. She’d heard women who hated motherhood with a passion still use kinder terms.
But AnnaMarie hadn’t even paused to take a breath.
“Our marriage has been more than I ever dreamed. Together we have risen to a level of power that hasn’t been seen since your father’s time.”
It was true. Don Pedro’s word was absolute. It had been decades since all the Mafioso had been united and in agreement in such a way. And now Eva learned it was all because of this woman. She’d thought that it was a unified front against her, the Queen of Spades, but in reality, she was a small pawn in this woman’s quest to build an empire.
AnnaMarie forked the last bite of fish into her mouth, chewed meticulously, and then wiped her mouth with a white linen napkin that she set on the empty chair beside her before pushing her plate to the side.
“That is w
hy you were allowed to come into Sicily today. Upon my orders,” she said.
Eva acknowledged the blonde woman’s words with a slight bow of her head.
“I wanted to see what you were like. I wanted to meet you. You have become a legend. Even our own children play ‘Queen of Spades.’” AnnaMarie said and smiled wryly. “Behind my back, of course.”
“And yet you will not lift the price on my head? You will not meet with me to negotiate peace, if not for ourselves, then at least for our children?” Eva said.
AnnaMarie examined her coolly. “But you don’t have children do you?”
The blow hit its mark. Eva stifled her gasp and kept her expression neutral, but the words still landed like a blow to her solar plexus, making it hard to breathe. A white-hot fury rose up through her body.
“That order did not come from me, by the way,” AnnaMarie said lightly.
Eva stood. “Your restroom?” She had to excuse herself for a few seconds or she would attack the other woman and get herself killed, which would not help Chiara.
AnnaMarie nodded at the woman in the black dress, who led Eva into the house. A small bathroom, ornate with gold fixtures and silver and gold-striped wallpaper, was off the main hall. Eva locked the door and gripped the sides of the freestanding sink, staring at herself in the antique mirror, trying to do some deep breathing exercises. She’d lost it. She’d been the weak one. AnnaMarie had struck a blow that had nearly crippled her. All with a few choice words. She’d lost her cool. It was unforgivable.
Becoming a mother had been Eva’s greatest joy in life, but at the same time it had made her too weak to ever be the leader she needed to be. This was proof.
Meeting her own eyes in the mirror, Eva realized she was not crying.
The woman was probably exalting in her ability to make Eva flee in pain.
AnnaMarie was a stone-cold monster. For another woman to do that and to stoop that low… And not just another woman. Another mother. Only a sociopath would play such a card.
Eva realized that her reaction, the pain she felt, was proof that she was still alive. It was proof that she was still human. She had lost everything and still retained her humanity. The other woman could not say the same. AnnaMarie was a bloodthirsty bitch on a quest for power who viewed her husband as a puppet and her children as nothing more than the products of their lackluster lovemaking.
14
When Eva returned to the table, it had been cleared, and small tulip-shaped glasses of Limoncello were set at every place along with small bowls of cherries and apricots. The woman in the black dress set a demitasse of espresso before Eva without asking.
Eva ignored the Limoncello and downed the fragrant hot coffee before speaking.
“Where is she?”
AnnaMarie shot a glance at Don Pedro that sent a chill through Eva.
“I have no control over the man who took her,” AnnaMarie said. “He has gone rogue.”
“What is his name?”
“It is not for me to say.”
Eva wanted to shoot the woman right between her eyes, instead she inhaled and counted to five before speaking again.
“Where is she?”
“We received word this morning that she was taken to the following coordinates,” she looked to Don Pedro.
He cleared his throat. “38.1147 degrees north by 13.3532 degrees east.”
Eva stood and without pushing in her chair was already through the French doors before AnnaMarie could speak again.
“I expect the money in our account before sunset tomorrow,” the blonde woman called. “Otherwise, your handsome British lover will pay the price—with his life.”
15
Eva’s hands shook with fury as she peeled out, fishtailing and leaving rubber on Don Pedro’s unblemished white driveway. They knew about Alex. AnnaMarie knew about the pay off. And they hadn’t given her the kidnapper’s name. And worst of all, deep in her heart, she feared that Chiara was already dead.
After she spoke the coordinates into her GPS, the voice directed her to take a left at the end of the driveway. As soon as she rounded the corner and saw the gate in front of her she laid on the horn. She was still twenty yards away when the startled guard emerged from the guard shack, gaping. She saw another face in the window. That man was holding a phone to his ear. The guard flanking the road slowly raised his assault weapon toward Eva’s oncoming vehicle. She gunned the engine, ready to ram the gate, when the guard in the shack came outside, shouting as the gate swung open.
As she grew closer she scanned the main road which was perpendicular to her current path. It was clear. Her vehicle flew through the narrow opening the gate afforded and careened wildly as she made the left turn, barely maintaining control of the wheel.
Once the vehicle straightened out with a shudder, Eva punched the gas and took advantage of a brief straightaway. GPS showed she would reach the designated coordinates in fifteen miles.
“Dial Francesca,” she said, feeling the anger fading but the anxiety rising.
As soon as the line connected, she spoke. “I need to know what lies at these coordinates.”
She reeled off the numbers, glancing in her rearview mirror for the first time, and was relieved to see the road behind her was empty. She didn’t have time for any more distractions.
“I zoomed in on the satellite image but it just looks like a rock outcropping near the sea,” Francesca said.
“Fuck.” Eva couldn’t help but imagine some madman tossing Chiara over a cliff onto the rocky shore below.
Now that she couldn’t do anything but drive, Eva took the time to fill Francesca in on the meeting.
“Madonna santa!” Francesca said.
“I’m afraid I’m too late,” Eva said, voicing her greatest fear.
For a second Francesca didn’t respond.
“No matter what happens, this is not on you,” the older woman finally said.
“I know, but…” Eva’s voice was barely above a whisper. She didn’t actually know or believe it. It was on her. She’d recruited the girl. She’d promised to keep her safe.
“Call me when you arrive and know more,” Francesca said. “I have something we need to speak about.”
Eva grunted and hung up.
As her GPS showed she was drawing closer, Eva eased up on the gas. The sea was to her left. At times, she’d caught glimpses of it, but often it was shrouded by groves of trees or rolling hills. With only a short distance remaining, the GPS directed her to take a left onto an unmarked gravel road. At the end of the road was a rocky outcrop. The road went straight into it. As she came around another corner, she saw that the road actually curved and ended in a small clearing to the side of the rocky hill.
The road dipped into a gully carved out of the land so that the terrain on each side rose slightly above the actual road as if she were driving in an ancient river bed. The way would be impassable if there was a fierce storm and flooding. Maybe that was the point.
Eva slowed to nearly a crawl, growing wary. She reached over and unearthed her assault rifle and handgun, placing them both on her lap. She kept her eyes before her. As she pulled closer to the clearing, gunfire rang out, an onslaught of bullets ricocheting off the car’s armored body. She kept a vice-like grip on the wheel as bullets banged into the armor, sparks arcing past the window as she stepped on the gas, zooming straight toward the rocky outcropping and clearing. Two men with guns gave chase, running in the road behind her.
As she approached the clearing, she registered that it was on the side of a cliff above the sea and that there was a staircase leading down. She yanked the steering wheel and maneuvered into a 180-degree spin that left her vehicle facing the two men. Before the dust cloud settled she leaped out of the vehicle and crouched behind her open driver’s side door, firing the assault rifle. She was on autopilot as she fired back distantly registering the ping of bullets on the front hood, window, and door. When the dust cleared, there were two bodies in the road before
her.
After glancing around in all directions to make sure there wasn’t another ambush in the making, Eva carefully walked over to the two men to make sure they were both dead.
She kicked their guns away and then kicked the bodies themselves before leaning down to feel for a pulse. Once she was satisfied they wouldn’t rise and come after her, she returned to her vehicle. She strapped the assault rifle on her back, tucked her handgun into the back of her waistband, and locked her vehicle before she headed for the stairs that were barely visible from the clearing.
The steep, wooden stairs curved around the rocky outcrop and led to a small stone landing. Eva could tell as she grew closer that the landing was the entrance to a cave.
Eva pressed her body against the outside wall of the cave just where it bordered the entrance and listened intently for any sound within. When she didn’t hear anything, she dropped to a crouch and peeked around the corner. The interior of the cave was dim, lit slightly with the reflection of the sun on the sea below and a cool gray light that seeped inside for about twenty yards. Beyond that was utter darkness.
But in the center of the cool gray light spilling across the cave floor Eva saw a black, crumpled bundle. Her heart leaped into her throat as she comprehended what she was seeing.
Chiara.
Without a thought for any attack that might come from the shadows, she cried out and raced toward the young woman’s body. Falling to the ground, she reached for the woman’s throat to feel for a pulse at the same time she saw the sightless stare of black eyes and the unearthly ashen color of the girl’s skin.
A mass of something stuck in Eva’s throat as she leaned over and closed Chiara’s eyes, leaning down to kiss each eyelid in turn. A hot rush of tears threatened to spill out of Eva’s own eyes. She blinked them back and stood, angrily wiping the tears away, flinging the wetness into the far corners with her furious gesture.
The Suicide King Page 5
