The Suicide King

by Kristi Belcamino

  She turned her back to the young woman and swallowed back her rage.

  Nearby, Eva saw a discarded net gun and the remains of a net that had been cut away from Chiara. That was how they’d captured her. And that explained the strange, small grid marks scattered on the sand. She stared at the net gun. Something her training had not prepared the girl for in any way.

  It was only the sound of her phone buzzing in her pants pocket over and over again that brought Eva out of her stunned state. She was slumped against one wall of the cave with a gun aimed at the entrance, waiting for Chiara’s killer to return.

  She took the phone from her pocket. It was Francesca.

  “I’m glad to hear your voice,” Francesca said. “When you didn’t pick up, I feared the worst.”

  “I’m sorry.” Eva’s voice was monotone. “It’s Chiara.”

  “I know,” the older woman said. “We just got a package. Of pictures.”

  “Oh, Francesca,” Eva said, her voice breaking. “I failed her.”

  “Eva. Now is not the time. You can mourn later. I need you to pull yourself together, get in your car, and drive straight to the Amalfi Coast. Something has come up. I was going to tell you this earlier, but now, with the note that accompanied the pictures, it is even more pressing.”

  Eva rose and ran for the cave entrance, but she paused. “What about? I can’t… I can’t leave her here.”

  “I’ve already directed a crew to your location to retrieve Chiara.”

  “Thank you,” Eva said and cast one last glance back at the young woman’s body. She felt guilty leaving the girl behind in the cold and dark, but if she’d learned anything from the murder of her children—after having spent more than a day cradling their dead bodies—it was that the physical body is just an empty shell. Once the soul has left, the body is an carcass that no longer contains the person who’d once inhabited it.

  Francesca’s voice was in her ear. “As soon as you are in your vehicle, I’ll explain.”

  “Tell me now,” her voice was pure steel. “What did the note say, Francesca?”

  Eva was irritated that her consigliere was changing the game on her and not offering information immediately.

  “It said, ‘Next time it’s personal.’”

  “That makes no sense,” Eva said as she scaled the stairs to the clearing. She saw, with relief, her vehicle sitting there alone and untouched. Beyond it, the bodies of the two men she’d gunned down remained in the road. It was unfortunate, but she didn’t have time to move them. She got in and started back toward the main road, trying to ignore the bumps and crunches beneath her tires.

  “Eva, what I was going to tell you earlier, before the note was received? Gia is in Positano. She is attending a wedding there. You need to warn her. I’ve contacted Jonathan and canceled your flight to America.”

  “Postponed,” Eva said sharply. Gia was in Italy? Her heart leaped into her throat. “I’m on my way.”

  “Should I send Carmela and Rosa instead.”

  “No,” Eva snapped. “I will not sacrifice any more lives. If anyone is going to die next, it will be me.”

  She hung up before Francesca could argue.

  16

  Positano

  Bobby whistled when I stepped out of the villa. I smiled. He looked pretty damn sexy himself. He wore a gray shirt, black slacks, and shiny, black Italian shoes I’d had custom made for him. I wore a backless green dress with gold sandals and gold Wonder Woman cuffs. We were giddy as we drove to the wedding location—a cliff overlooking the sea. Matt and Dante wore matching black suits. Custom made. Of course.

  I was so excited for their wedding.

  The ceremony—set against a swirling orange, pink, and red sunset backdrop—made me cry like a baby, and I clung to Bobby’s arm. He kept glancing down at me, smiling and kissing my brow. It was a small gathering. Matt, a state senator, had invited a few politicians on both sides of the aisle. But still there were less than thirty of us in all.

  Mrs. Marino dabbed at her eyes with a small tissue she’d pulled from a patent leather silver clutch, blotting her tears carefully so she didn’t muss her makeup. I probably should have thought of that. The back of my hand was black with smeared makeup from me swiping at my own eyes.

  Our small group joined hands as the ceremony ended with Dante and Matt breaking through the ceremonial ribbon strung between two lemon trees.

  When we got to the small parking lot, Dante and Matt whooped when they saw the flowers and ribbons that covered the front of their car. I gave Bobby a high-five. We’d paid some kids around the corner to decorate the car during the ceremony, hoping they would actually do it and not just run off with our American bills and all the flowers and ribbons.

  As we piled into cars, bystanders clapped and shouted “Auguri!” to congratulate the new couple and wish them luck.

  17

  It was only when her tires touched the soil of mainland Italy as she sped off the ferry that Eva could breathe again normally.

  Her niece. Gia Santella. In Italy. Right up the coast.

  And in danger.

  She needed to call Don Pedro and ask that bitch AnnaMarie to spill a name. She needed a name and face for this unknown enemy who was attacking her with everything he had and going after everything that mattered.

  Thinking of AnnaMarie made Eva pull over onto the side of the winding road crawling up the mountain with rocks on one side and a sheer plunge to the sea below on the other. That bitch had threatened her lover.

  Once she was in park, Eva dialed Alex.

  “Mi amore.” His voice was languid, sexy, sleepy. “You are famous now.”

  “What?” Eva said.

  “The newspaper article about you declaring war on the mob.”

  Eva had nearly forgotten about the interview with the reporter.

  “I take it you haven’t read it yet,” Alex said. “Stand by. I’ll grab it. Okay. I’m back. Here you go: ‘Queen of Spades declares war on La Cosa Nostra. The elusive mob boss, the Queen of Spades, has declared war on La Cosa Nostra after a boy riding his bike was gunned down during an exchange of gunfire between drug dealers and an angry store owner. But the Queen of Spades is different than traditional Mafiosi, others said.

  “’She shows up out of nowhere and starts taking out the drug dealers. There is proof that opioid deaths have declined since she showed up. She’s welcome in Calabria anytime,” said Pizzo Mayor Giacomo Camelli.

  “’But Police Chief Carlo Massimo said just because she’s targeting other criminals makes her no less of a murderer.

  “’Nobody really knows what she looks like or who she really is. She leaves a playing card—the Queen of Spades—on porches and on dead bodies. It’s her calling card.’”

  “It says they don’t know if you’re young or old but that, get this: ‘she apparently has a band of loyal followers who are highly skilled assassins.’”

  Eva let him talk, listening with an ever-growing unease. The reporter had kept her word, true. But she’d also known more than Eva had suspected. Eva had cringed hearing the part about “band of loyal followers who are highly skilled assassins.”

  Finally, after she didn’t respond, Alex spoke.

  “Do I take that to mean you are not pleased?”

  “It means you have to leave Italy,” Eva said.

  “Because you’ve declared war?”

  “Because they told me they know about you. They threatened you. You have to leave.”

  His hearty laugh filled the phone. “Who are they? And I’m not going anywhere, damn it.”

  “They killed her.”

  His laughter abruptly cut off at her words.

  “I’m so sorry, Eva.”

  “It’s a long story,” Eva said. “But you have to believe me when I say you are in danger. They know about you. They threatened to kill you.”

  “My love,” Alex said calmly. “From the second I found out who you were, I’ve taken precautions. If you haven’t no
ticed, my children have not visited since we began our, ahem, love affair.”

  At his words, Eva closed her eyes. The sun was growing low on the horizon to her left, bathing the entire earth in gold. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve never become involved with you. I’m ruining your life. You can’t even see your family anymore.”

  “It would take much more than that to ruin my life. It’s no big deal. We just changed our yearly rendezvous to a spot where your deadly Mafioso have no power.”

  “Alex,” Eva began. “I hid in Los Angeles. For a decade. I thought I was safe. They sent someone who walked in and massacred my husband and children like they were bugs on the wall. I thought their reach was limited. I thought they didn’t have that sort of reach and power.”

  She was on the verge of tears now. “Please, please go away. Far away, and never come back. We can never see each other again or speak again. I cannot have your family’s murders on my conscience. I couldn’t bear it.”

  “Oh God,” Alex said. “Eva. I had no idea.”

  She wept silently now, unable to hold back all the emotions from the day—a toxic mix of grief and fury. Cars passed her vehicle. She distantly noted them through her blurry vision.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve hired extra security.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “I refuse to be run out of my own home.”

  “Please.”

  “I’m sorry, Eva.”

  “Will you take a vacation? At least for a few weeks. To give me time to stop this woman.”

  “Woman?”

  “She doesn’t deserve to even be called that. She’s the devil. Please, Alex. Otherwise, I will spend every waking moment worrying and sick about you.”

  Her vulnerability and honesty must have struck a chord because his sigh was audible across the phone line. “Only as a favor to you, my queen. I will leave in the next day or two. As your luck would have it, my daughter called this morning and suggested I come to visit and spend time with my granddaughters. God knows why.”

  “I think you should leave today, this afternoon. Now.”

  He laughed. “I have a few affairs at the villa to put in order. But I should be able to leave in the next day or two.”

  “Great.”

  “Yes. But on one condition.”

  “Yes?”

  “Promise you won’t die on me while I’m gone.”

  Eva hung up without answering. She never made promises she couldn’t keep.

  18

  After wiping the tears from her face and slicking on red lipstick, Eva peeled out from the shoulder of the road and pointed her car toward the Amalfi Coast.

  She felt naked without the thick black kohl eyeliner she normally wore, but she didn’t have another second to spare. She’d already wasted precious time parked on the side of the road while convincing Alex to leave.

  But it had been a necessary delay. If he hadn’t agreed to go, she would have considered turning her car around and heading back home to convince him in person.

  Now Eva could turn her attention fully to saving her niece—a young woman she’d never met but whom she’d unwittingly endangered simply by being her blood relative. Nobody deserved to die just because they were related to her.

  Or were sleeping with her.

  Or training with her.

  A horrible memory of Chiara’s lifeless body flashed into her mind’s eye. Although she wept inside for the girl, on the outside, she now had the composure to steel herself against the lump of sorrow that had settled into her core.

  “I will avenge your death my dear Chiara.”

  It was wrong, but the young woman seemed more of a relative than this unknown, “Gia.” But that didn’t mean Eva would fight any less viciously to save the girl.

  She’d changed into her little black dress and stiletto heels on the ferry, unsure how much time she’d have to get to the wedding once the ferry docked. She wanted to be ready to walk into the wedding or reception as a guest, if necessary.

  With the sun low on the horizon, she pressed one sandaled foot to the gas pedal and sped north, brushing away unbidden images of Alex’s bloody dead body sprawled across his round white bed.

  Eva pulled into Positano as the last rays of sun were lighting up the small, colorful cliffside village. By the time she parked and headed toward the cliff where the wedding was supposed to take place, she realized she’d missed it. The cliff was empty. There were no signs of the wedding left behind except a small red rose left on the ground near two lemon trees strung with torn bits of ribbon.

  In her heels, it took longer than she wanted to make her way back down the rocky path to where her car was parked. The reception had to be nearby. She texted Francesca. “Too late? Reception?”

  A few seconds later, Francesca got back to her. The nearby Hotel Rizzoli was reserved for fifty people as part of a wedding.

  19

  Armed with our drinks, we explored the hotel. A grand staircase led to the second floor. A party spilled out from a ballroom. We snuck in and joined a group dancing the Macarena, laughing as people stared at us. Then we raced out like naughty children.

  On the second floor, I spotted a man in a tuxedo smoking on a balcony. Right before we stepped outside, Bobby grabbed me and kissed me deeply, taking my breath away for a moment. When we came up for air, I grinned. “What was that about?”

  “I wanted to sneak in one last kiss.”

  I pulled back. “What do you mean?”

  “Before your sweet mouth turned into a smelly ashtray.”

  “Very funny.” I smacked him in the shoulder. A little harder than I intended, but he deserved it. I drained my glass. The bourbon warmed my belly and made me feel as if I were melting.

  The man was on his way back inside, but offered me two cigarettes and a book of matches.

  “Grazie.”

  He dipped his head in reply.

  The balcony was filled with flowers. We stepped up to the rail overlooking the street below. If I strained, I could see a glimpse of the sea over the tops of buildings. Bobby stood behind me, pressing himself close, wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on my shoulder as we looked out at the water.

  “This night is perfect,” I murmured.

  “Mmm hmmm,” he breathed into my hair, his exhalation hot on my skin.

  He pulled back and drained his beer bottle. “I’m going to go get a refill.” He gestured toward my glass. “Same thing?”

  I didn’t want him to leave. On the way upstairs, I had felt such an overwhelming surge of love for him, that I knew I could say the words. I knew this time I could do it.

  “I’ll be back in a sec.” Before I could open my mouth, he took my glass, winked, and left.

  I took a breath. I had about five minutes to get up the nerve. When he came back I was going to do it. I was going to tell him I loved him. Suddenly, it felt so right. I could hardly wait to say the words. I couldn’t wait to look into his eyes and say it. What better time than the day of my best friend’s wedding in one of the most amazing places on earth?

  20

  When Eva turned onto the cobblestone street where the hotel was, a white vintage Lancia Aurelia zoomed past, giving her a glimpse of a handsome man with dark, slicked back hair and sunglasses. The man turned his head to look at her, and Eva was instantly on alert.

  Eva made a U-Turn and sped to catch up, but the car had seemingly disappeared. That’s when she caught sight of it down an alley, idling. She pulled in and saw the man standing outside the car talking to a group of four motorcyclists. When her headlights shone on them, everybody turned to look at her. The man quickly said something to the bikers, and they zoomed off down the other end of the alley. Eva gunned the engine, but the white car was parked at an angle that blocked her path. As she grew closer, the man in the sunglasses looked at her and then ran, ducking into the backdoor of a business. Eva came to a skidding stop and threw the car into park. She grabbed her gun and jumped out, racing
after the man.

  She entered the business, pointing her gun in front of her but only saw an empty storage room with shelves of boxes. She ran through a swinging door that opened into a small shop. The front door was open to the street beyond.

  21

  Leaning on the rail, I soaked in the view. The cobblestone street below was so quaint. All the shops had wooden signs hanging on chains.

  The blue velvet sky was filled with stars. The tiniest breeze brought the smell of the ocean and kicked up the fragrance of the flowers nearby. A valet swinging a set of keys leisurely headed toward the parking garage. A young couple holding hands turned the corner onto the street below, swinging their arms and laughing. An older man came out of an apartment across the street. A woman came out on the balcony next to mine and lit a cigarette. We smiled at each other.

  Then, in a rumble out of nowhere, four motorcyclists zoomed up to the hotel entrance. They leaped off their bikes and rushed inside in a blur of black. Terror ripped through me. Everything happened at once. In a flash of snapshots that barely registered: The man who had stepped out of his doorway darted back inside his house; The boy grabbed the girl and jerked her around the corner at a sprint; The valet dropped to a prone position and army-crawled toward a doorway.

  Muffled popping sounds came from inside the hotel. The woman on the balcony beside me screamed. It took me a split second to realize the popcorn sounds were gunshots. With horror, I realized that everyone I loved was inside—where the gunshots had come from.

  Before I could react, the four men, now clearly wielding guns, raced outside. One of them shot a glance up at me before he joined the others, who hopped on their bikes and squealed away. Stunned, I watched, unable to move, my feet felt nailed to the balcony. Distantly, somewhere in my head, I knew I needed to get inside. When the gunman had looked at me, I knew that I should duck or run, but I’d been frozen. The signal to move short-circuited on the way to my limbs.