Francis had grown up observing the love and partnership of his parents, Luciano and Rosa Savelli. He planned to have the same love and understanding with Tracy. He understood that since she was American, he would have different challenges, but he was willing to adjust and work through whatever cultural obstacles that they would face.
The serenity of Calabria and thoughts of his new family had Francis in a place of peacefulness that he had never experienced. Sadly, his bliss was short lived when his beloved Maybach exploded in front of him. He didn't even know which one of his men were in the vehicle.
The powerful blast rocked the SUV that he was in, the noise so loud that the earth shook. There was no way the men in inside had survived. Before he could mourn the loss of his favorite car, or his loyal men, shots rang out. Francis could hear the ping of bullets hitting the Land Rover.
Through the rain of bullets, Paolo had thrown himself over Francis. Although he was only doing his job by protecting the boss, Francis was irritated.
“Get the fuck off of me!” Francis commanded.
He reached under the passenger seat of the Land Rover. No matter what vehicle Francis rode in, his men knew to place his trusty shotgun within arm’s reach. To avoid flying debris, the driver slammed on the brakes, bringing the SUV to a screeching halt. Paolo removed himself from atop Francis’ back and grabbed the semi-automatic .45 from the back of his pants. He scanned the area for the threat before climbing out of the vehicle. Francis exited after him and looked over at what used to be his luxury car. It was in a ball of flames.
Francis trudged along a cobblestone road, kicking remnants of the wreckage out of his path. Thankfully, the lead vehicle had not been hit.
His men filed out of the SUV, weapons hot. Like Francis, they searched the area for combatants. Whatever, or whoever, had caused his car to explode had to have been close by. Security at Francis’ villa was more than sufficient, so a car bomb was highly unlikely. Something had been launched at his vehicle by someone who assumed that Francis would be among the passengers.
“Stai bene, Piero?” Francis asked as the driver approached.
“Si, boss. I’m good.”
Francis ran his fingers roughly through his hair as he looked at the carnage. His men had been murdered, and he had been a heartbeat away from meeting his own end. He took a brief moment to think of their families. And brief it was because the sound of bullets whizzing past his head quickly shifted his focus from his dead soldiers to his own survival, and the survival of the rest of his men.
Francis shoved Piero behind the Land Rover. He positioned himself behind the wheel and readied his shotgun. Piero pulled out his own weapon, racked the slide, and peaked carefully around the SUV. Seconds later, he turned to Francis with concern etched on his face.
“Two vans,” he told him. “I can't tell how many men.”
Francis nodded and lowered to the ground on his stomach. He pointed his shotgun in the direction of one of the vans. He would be aiming for the gas tank. The quiet was eerie as they prepared themselves for battle, but the sound of shots, suddenly fired, broke the silence.
Observing from beneath the Land Rover, Francis realized that it was Paolo and a few members of his team firing at their adversaries. They had somehow positioned themselves behind their enemies. It was all the incentive that Francis needed to open fire.
He fired his twelve gauge at the van furthest from Paolo, igniting the gas tank. The explosion wasn't as dramatic as Francis would have liked, so he dropped his shotgun, pulled out his .45, and positioned himself on the hood of the Land Rover. There he began to fire at human targets. Piero did the same.
One by one, he and his men took out their enemies until there was only one left. The shooter looked around at his fallen comrades and dropped his weapon. He lowered to his knees and placed his hands on his head.
Francis walked around the SUV, and as he strolled toward their captive, he could hear the worthless pleas of a man who was already dead. Francis stepped over the dead as he approached. He had never seen any of the men before, but their features were telling; surely of Eastern European descent.
Russians.
Francis studied the so-called hitman. He couldn't have been more than twenty years old. He was utterly terrified and shaking uncontrollably. With a wide-eyed look of terror, the young Russian looked as if he was ready to shit his pants. Francis shook his head. His enemies had sent boys to do the job of men.
“Bring him,” he ordered over his shoulder after turning away from the boy.
A quick death would be the merciful thing to do, but Francis wasn't in a charitable mood. Before a very unpleasant death, the survivor would be a useful source of intel.
CHAPTER 17
TAMMY
Tammy took a deep breath as Luca led her into the Chicago Chophouse. They walked through a small crowd of people waiting to be seated and approached the hostess.
“Savelli,” he informed the pretty blonde that was so mesmerized by him she hadn't even noticed Tammy. The hostess placed her hand on her chest as she stared up at Luca. She couldn't have looked away if she’d tried.
Tammy, already riddled with anxiety at the thought of seeing her mom, was losing her patience. She cleared her throat loud enough to demand the blonde’s attention. She blinked over at Tammy and whispered, “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Happens all the time,” Tammy assured.
“I’m sure,” the hostess said in a breathy tone.
“How about a table?” Tammy asked, reminding the blonde that she had a job to do.
“Y-yes, of course. Right this way, please.”
The hostess grabbed two menus and led them up a set of stairs. She showed them to a beautifully set table in front of a large picture window. When Luca pulled out her chair, Tammy was grateful to take a seat, granting her shaky legs amnesty.
The young hostess placed two menus in front of them with her eyes still glued to Luca. At least they’d been seated and had menus. When she and Luca had first become lovers, the blatant ogling from women used to irritate her to no end. But as time passed, Tammy got used to the way women looked at him. It eventually became less of an irritant. After all, she wasn't blind. She was well aware of how over the top gorgeous Luca was. No normal heterosexual woman could resist doing a double-take. Since Luca always seemed oblivious to the effect that he had on the opposite sex, Tammy wondered if he was only pretending not to notice for her sake.
Tammy was so busy admiring the strong line of Luca’s jaw, his deep-set chocolate eyes, and his sensual full lips that she hadn't even noticed that the hostess was still standing over their table. It was only when Luca asked, “Is there anything else?” did Tammy look up.
The hostess’ breath hitched, and she appeared flustered. Tammy knew for certain that it was the woman’s response to Luca’s deep voice and Sicilian brogue because when Luca spoke, she often had the same reaction.
“Uh, no. I-I’m sorry. Your server will be right over.”
“Thank you,” Tammy interjected, afraid that if Luca spoke again, the woman might just pass out.
Tammy looked over at Luca, narrowing her eyes. “Stop encouraging the girl,” she scolded.
“And how did I do that, cara?” he asked with a sexy lopsided grin.
“You opened your mouth.”
“Is that all it takes, mon amour?”
His deep rumble warmed her core and made Tammy shift in her seat. Tammy’s own reaction was the answer to his question. She hadn't realized how tight she was clutching the napkin-wrapped cutlery until Luca placed his hand on hers. His calming touch caused Tammy’s fingers to relax. She released the utensils and placed her hand over Luca’s. His warm brown eyes were filled with concern.
“Nervous?”
“Yeah, I guess I am a little nervous,” Tammy admitted.
Luca used his free hand to caress the side of her face. He leaned into her and placed a sweet kiss to the side of her mouth. “I’ve seen how you run your business, cara. You've dealt wit
h people a lot tougher than Beverly. It’s only dinner. And I’ll be right here, right by your side.”
Tammy smiled. Luca had been her security blanket from the very beginning.
“You promise?”
“Oui. Till death do us part.”
Tammy let out a tiny moan and melted against Luca’s hand. “I love you,” she declared.
“And I, you.”
Tammy’s state of bliss was interrupted by someone clearing their throat.
“Hello,” came a small voice standing above them.
Tammy, recognizing the voice of her mother, reluctantly looked up. Beverly, along with the young hostess, was standing in front of their table. She was wearing a black dress with spaghetti straps and a flared skirt. Her long hair was jet black with a thin streak of gray, and her dark skin was flawless. Beverly was looking just as pretty as Tammy remembered. Shockingly, years of drug abuse had not sullied her beauty.
Since Tammy hadn't greeted Beverly in return, Luca gave her a subtle nudge before standing.
“Hello,” Tammy finally said in response.
Luca walked around the table and reached for the chair directly in front of Tammy. But just as his hand reached the back of the chair, he turned and stared across the restaurant. He reached into his suit jacket and snatched his weapon from the holster. Tammy looked around and noticed, for the first time, that Lorenzo, along with his other men were scattered about the restaurant.
Without turning around, Luca shoved Beverly behind him and hand signaled for Tammy to get down. She didn't have to be told twice. Tammy lowered herself to the floor and crawled under the table. Just as Tammy heard what sounded like a herd of buffalo ascending the stairs, the first shot rang out. It was the blood-curdling scream that came from Beverly, not the sound of gunfire that made Tammy jump. She belly crawled under the table, yanked her mother by the ankles. Beverly hit the floor with a thud, and to Tammy’s dismay, Beverly managed to scream even louder.
“Shut up!” Tammy gritted as she pulled her mother under the table.
Beverly pressed her lips shut and looked at Tammy as if she’d grown a third eye as if she actually had the nerve to feel disrespected. Tammy didn't have time to care about the woman’s feelings. She was worried about Luca, and she needed to, at the very least, hear what was going on. But all she heard was rapid gunfire accompanied by the screams of restaurant patrons. All she could do was lie on the floor and pray for Luca’s safety, and the safety of his men.
After minutes that seemed like hours, the shooting stopped. An eerie silence caused Tammy to panic. She was starting to crawl just as the table was flipped over.
“Get them out of here!” Luca shouted in Italian.
Tammy got on all fours and looked up at Luca. He was still holding his gun, but blood was coming from his arm. Tammy hurried to her feet and ran over to him.
“Luca, baby...oh my God,” Tammy said in a breathy panic.
“Go with Lorenzo,” he ordered, just as Lorenzo grabbed Tammy’s elbow.
“But, Luca, you're hurt,” she said, pulling away from Lorenzo.
Luca looked down at his arm and frowned, realizing for the first time that he’d been shot. “It’s nothing, cara. Go.”
“But, Luca,” Tammy protested.
His expression turned angry. “Tamara…go!” he yelled, causing Tammy to jump.
The grip that Lorenzo had on her elbow tightened. She looked into Luca’s eyes. They held a warning that said that now was not the time to challenge him.
“O-okay, baby. I love you,” she relented.
Luca only nodded as Lorenzo, along with three other men pulled her and Beverly through the restaurant. As they stepped over bodies on their way out, Tammy surmised that they were Russian. Once outside, they were hurried into a waiting SUV that wasted no time speeding away from the curb.
A ride that should have taken thirty minutes only took fifteen. Thankfully, the drive to Victoria’s house had ended. During the ride, Beverly had worked Tammy’s last nerve with constant questions and irritating judgmental comments about Luca. She did her best to ignore her mother’s rant.
They pulled into Victoria’s circled driveway, and Tammy couldn't escape the enclosed space of the vehicle fast enough. As soon as Lorenzo opened the door, she flew toward the elaborate entrance of the Storm estate.
The front door flew open, and Victoria appeared with open arms. Tammy rushed into the hug and released a cleansing breath.
CHAPTER 18
VICTORIA
Victoria grabbed Tammy by the shoulders and took a step back. “Are you okay?” she asked, scanning Tammy for injuries.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m good,” Tammy reassured.
“Thank God. Come on in the house.”
Victoria led Tammy through the foyer and into the parlor.
“Sit down. I’ll fix you a drink.”
Tammy nodded and took a seat on the sofa. Victoria made quick work of pouring her a generous amount of Jack Daniels. She knew that Tammy wasn't much of a drinker, but due to the circumstances, she doubted that she would refuse.
“Is Luca okay?” she asked as she handed Tammy her drink.
“Yeah... well…no. I think he got shot in the arm.” Tammy lifted the glass to her mouth with a shaky hand, and Victoria could tell how worried she was.
“Aww shit, girl, a bullet to the arm is like a mosquito bite for Luca,” Victoria chuckled. She sat next to Tammy on the sofa and placed her hand on her shoulder. “That man of yours is as tough as nails. You know that.”
“Yeah,” Tammy laughed. “He wasn't too hurt to yell at me.”
“Hmph…I ain't surprised.”
“How did you know?” Tammy asked.
“Gianni called. Apparently, someone tried to hit Francis in Italy.”
“What? Is he okay? What happened?”
Before Victoria could elaborate, Lorenzo walked in with two of Luca’s other men, and a woman she’d never seen before. She didn't even get a chance to ask who the woman was before the woman blurted, “What the hell is going on?! Tamara, are these men gangsters?! Thought you were some kinda fancy designer. Come to find out, you're surrounded by thugs.” She huffed as if disgusted. “And who the hell is she?”
The woman pointing her finger in Victoria’s face didn't seem to know or care that she was being offensive. Victoria stood from the sofa and looked from Tammy to Lorenzo. Neither bothered to check the woman’s behavior.
“Who the hell am I? You're in my house. Who the fuck are you?”
The woman crossed her arms and glared at Victoria. “I’m—”
Victoria threw her hand up, interrupting the irritating woman. “Doesn't matter. Just shut up.”
Victoria turned to Lorenzo and asked, “Who is this lady?”
It was Tammy that responded. “Vic, this is Beverly Beauvais. My mom.”
Victoria was stunned. The only thing she knew about Tammy’s mom was that she was a heroin addict that had abandoned Tammy and her dad, Jean-Paul, when she was a young girl. But the woman in front of Victoria didn't look much like a heroin addict. As a Vice cop, Victoria knew a junkie when she saw one. They didn't look like the pretty, well-put-together woman standing in front of her.
“My bad, Tammy,” Victoria apologized. “I didn't mean to curse at your mom.”
“It’s okay, Vic.”
“It’s okay?!” Beverly screeched. “It’s okay for her to speak to me like that? No, it ain't! First, I gotta dodge bullets because of that thug you call a fiancé. Next thing I know, I’m being disrespected by this—”
“Oh my God…shut up!” Tammy shouted.
It was obvious that Tammy had had enough. She jumped to her feet and closed in on her mother. “I have had just about enough of you,” Tammy hissed. “You come in here acting like we offended your good Christian values. I know for a fact that you have crawled in the lowest gutters of Louisiana. Get the fuck outta here with that! Say something else about my man and I’ma throw yo’ ass, head first, the fuck
outta here.”
Beverly recoiled at her harsh words, but Tammy wasn't done.
“These people are my family. I don't even fucking know you. So sit down and shut up.”
Beverly looked as if she wanted to argue, but she thought better of it. Instead, she walked over to the sofa and took a seat.
“Now,” Tammy said, turning to Victoria, “is Francis all right?”
“Yeah, he’s good.”
The next few seconds were filled with an awkward silence. Yeah, the woman had been very disrespectful, but Victoria still felt bad for snapping at Tammy’s mom.
The sound of a ringing phone pierced the room. It was Lorenzo’s. He pulled the phone from the pocket of his slacks and left the room. Victoria walked over to the bar. She needed her own drink. As she poured, Lorenzo reentered the parlor.
“The men will stay. I have to get back to the restaurant,” he announced.
“What’s happened, Lorenzo? Is Luca okay?” Tammy worried.
“Si, but the police are there.”
Victoria walked across the room and grabbed her purse from a table close to the foyer. “I’m coming with you,” she told him.
“No, donna. Stay here with the women.”
“I’m coming with you,” she repeated.
“Victoria, where are Jack and the kids?” Tammy asked.
“At his parents, but he’s own his way home. Do me a favor and tell him that I went to help.”
“Oh, hell naw,” Tammy protested. “You ain't finna leave me here to tell Jack Storm that you went to the scene of a shoot-out. Nope.”
“Tammy, the police are there. Maybe I can help. Jack will understand.”
“Bullshit! I’m coming too.”
“No!” Lorenzo shouted, chiming into the debate. “Por favore, donna. Are you trying to get me murdered?”
If Victoria didn't know that his concerns were warranted, she might have laughed.
“Tammy, I’ll take care of him. I promise.”
Tammy exhaled and flopped down on the sofa next to Beverly. “All right. But I ain't waiting on Jack to get all the way here. I’m calling him as soon as you leave.”
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