Anarchy (Alfonzo)

by Frank, S. W.

  “Did you see the shooter?”

  “No, I didn’t stick around.”

  “Who do you think it is?”

  “Babe, I have no idea but I’m going to find out.”

  “How?”

  “I have my ways.”

  “Apparently, the shooter wasn’t trying to harm you, or he would have, right?”

  He maneuvered her into a supine position, “No more questions.” He kissed her quiet then smiled when she read his thoughts.

  They undressed simultaneously without words. They’d gone through hell, their skin scorched by the hard fought battle to survive the flames –so, they spoke with touch to communicate mutual unwavering love and trust.

  The palms of his hands slid over the contours of her soft skin, adoring the feel of her lips and the taste of her minty tongue. Her fingers were in his hair, kneading his scalp and she pushed eagerly forward in wanton desire.

  His thoughts wandered for an instance. He circled the universe in his mind, searching the galaxy for a way out of his troubles and found none. He was caught in a place of indecision, should he return to the flames of hell to live or perish reaching for heaven? If he descended once more in the bowls of that world, could he survive the inferno?

  He had to find the person responsible for shattering the hourglass and pouring sand on his new life. He needed answers, he wanted to know why. His muscles tensed the moment his decision was made. Selange felt it, too.

  The silence was broken, “I’ll stand by you, no matter what.”

  “That’s admirable but stupid.”

  “I’m stupid in love with my husband, shoot me.”

  He smirked, “I’d rather do this.” His hot tongue ended the talk. Their flesh fused like pieces of a puzzle and he grunt in pleasure. He had his missing part and felt utterly complete.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Giuseppe Dichenzo studied the menu, undecided between the Seared Ahi Tuna or Venison Tenderloin as an entrée. He settled on the tuna and smiled at his pretty dinner companion, an inspiring singer from Britain, here in Naples to perform at a local venue tomorrow night. One he might attend, but the decision hinged on how good of a fuck she was, then maybe he might be interested to hear her sing outside the bedroom, “And you, Skye?”

  “The salmon with chardonnay sauce sounds delicious,” she replied in perfect Italian.

  The waitress nervously retrieved the menus under the watchful eyes of Giuseppe’s men then hurried away to the kitchen. The intimate restaurant held only a few patrons, every one, Giuseppe’s soldiers.

  When the food arrived he waited until Skye lifted the fork to her ruby lips before following suit. The evening was certain to conclude with her in his bed and by morning she’d be a forgotten memory like all the rest.

  In the course of dinner he was interrupted by a guard who whispered in his ear, “Alberti’s here. He wants to speak with you.”

  Giuseppe wiped his mouth, folded the napkin and set it on the table. The smile erased from his mouth. “Mi scusi, one minute.”

  Skye smiled, “Of course.”

  Annoyed at Alberti’s timing, Giuseppe followed the guard. Alberti sat at the bar in an adjacent room. As usual, a cigar dangled from his mouth.

  The moment Giuseppe came into view, he stood in greeting, “Ciao giovane amico.”

  “Ciao,” he hugged the old man then asked, “I thought you retired after the meeting. You should have rested. There is an invention called the mobile phone.”

  The old man’s eyes searched the youth’s. Giuseppe was much like his father, unconcerned with international news, only what occurred in Europe. The world stretched far beyond the shores of Italy, even the misguided explorer Christopher Columbus learned this when he stumbled upon the America’s centuries ago.

  Alberti sucked on his cigar, took a moment to flick the ashes in the tray then answered Giuseppe with an elder’s patience when talking to a child, “Remember rule two, no calls, you forget?”

  Giuseppe smirked, “I forget the first rule.”

  “Which is to remember the rules, boy.”

  “Aye, you test me too much. This is not school and I am no boy.” came Giuseppe’s exasperated response. He sat on the bar stool, “Tell me what is on your mind so I can finish my dinner.”

  “Never sleep too soundly, smoke often precedes a fire. Do you smell it?”

  “I smell your cigar.”

  Alberti found little humor in ignorance; he went straight to the point. “Who do you trust in America?”

  This got Giuseppe’s attention. “What is wrong?”

  “Never rely solely on smoke detectors.”

  “Alberti, speak plainly.”

  “You have obligations in America, familial ones that require attention.”

  “Mio cugino?”

  “Alfonzo has troubles.”

  Giuseppe’s face contorted into stone. “Is he well?”

  “There is smoke in your villa. Awaken to put it out before the flames lick the ceiling.” The old man rose from the stool and exited.

  Giuseppe returned to the dining hall, his mind clicking through what the old man said. He reached for his cell and dialed. Alfonzo’s voice bellowed. “Geo, what’s up?”

  Giuseppe watched his dinner companion sip from the wineglass and found her presence distracting. He looked away from her lips, “How is the family, cugino.”

  “Bueno, what about yours?”

  He detected nothing unusual in his cousin’s tone, yet Alfonzo hid his emotions well. “Buono.”

  “Good…listen we’ll talk soon, all right?”

  Giuseppe caught the message, “Yes, tell your wife hello.”

  “Will do.”

  After he disconnected he rose from the table, “My apologies Skye but I must go.”

  She looked disappointed. He’d come to Naples on business and things had gone well. He sought to have a quiet evening with her before heading home to Palermo, unfortunately his plans changed. Alberti, his trusted advisor saw to that. Too bad!

  He fastened his suit jacket, turned to one of his men and said, “Escort her safely back to her hotel.”

  The imposing Italian nodded and folded his arms as his boss walked away. Whatever, Alberti came to say could not be good; why else would Don Giuseppe forego a night with such a beautiful woman?

  The streets were clearing of tourists. Their visit to the nearby Piazza dei Martiri left them hungry and the sidewalk cafés and restaurants in proximity were where they dined. The hour grew late. In Naples, at the darkened hours the seediest elements awakened. Alberti settled in the passenger seat of the bulletproof car, watching in the side mirror as his nephew emerged from the restaurant surrounded by his henchmen and ‘tsked’. Giuseppe was not ready.

  He promised to watch over his nephews and as Consigliere, give them guidance. Yet, Giuseppe dismissed his teachings, acting with reckless regard by moving too quickly to squash disputes with violence in lieu of persuasion. Giuseppe’s father Carlo also behaved in such a manner until Luzo channeled his impulsiveness. These were modern times and the youth were less likely to follow advice of their elders. They were determined to learn through pain.

  Giuseppe climbed inside the SUV and moments later it rolled past Alberti. A dark sedan emerged from the shadows and followed. The occupants of the car were not tourists; their profiles in the artificial light coming from the lamp posts revealed their intent. These were soldati, sent on assignment.

  His chauffeur glanced at his boss, “Follow?”

  “Yes,” Alberti, nodded.

  The chauffeur’s eyes registered understanding and he whipped the car around, keeping a safe distance, they trailed the dark sedan.

  Alberti used his ‘mobile phone’ as Giuseppe described it, to warn the stubborn lad. He gave instructions for Giuseppe’s driver to follow, “head east to the Riviera di Chiaia near the Villa Comunale and tell your driver to stop when there is a deserted street and we will box them in and stay inside. I will handle it from there,
boy!”

  The SUV drove leisurely through the narrow streets as instructed. Soon it banked east traveling the long Riviera di Chiaia, exited and rolled over the ancient brick streets uncluttered by traffic. It is here Giuseppe’s vehicle stopped suddenly and Alberti’s driver was out of the car moving fast. He reached for the gun at his waist and immediately the dark street became a collection of rapid flashing lights. No one returned fire from inside the vehicle, how could they, when they were dead?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Yesterday couldn’t be undone, last night, either. Emilio sat up in bed, put his feet to the floor and cursed himself for letting things go this far. Jessica decided she didn’t want to go clubbing after-all. They had dinner at The G-Spot on the strip, took a night stroll on the beach then returned to his room to hook-up, for a second time.

  He looked over his shoulder at her, shook his head and went to shower. He bathed, taking longer than usual as he tried to figure out what the fuck to do next. He’d forgotten to call his boss, forgot a lot of shit because he was too busy screwing. What reason could he devise for not calling? Well, it had to be a good one.

  He climbed out the stall and dried off then returned to the room to dress. As he slipped his shirt over his head, Jessica awakened and stretched.

  She yawned, “Morning.”

  He couldn’t deny how much he wanted to be with her but it wouldn’t work. She had no idea about his past.

  Tousled hair crowned the pretty face. There existed a twinkle of deviltry in the smoky brown eyes. She leaned her head in her hands, “You’re feeling guilty, aren’t you?”

  “No.” He lied. He zipped his trousers then sat down on the edge of the bed, “I just don’t want you getting ideas about us.”

  “Emilio,” she shook her head, “we’ve both wanted to do it and since you weren’t going to make the move, I said what the fuck and went for it. I think the only reason you’re saying that is because you’re afraid of what my cousin might do.”

  “I’d be stupid if I wasn’t concerned about his reaction.” He fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, “Jess, we have to end this.”

  She climbed over his chest and lay naked atop him to look in his eyes, “Why?”

  His eyebrows collided, “Trust me, we do. You and me won’t work.”

  She caressed his face, “You don’t think much of yourself, do you?”

  “I just know it won’t work between us.” He responded, trying to ignore the heat building between his legs.

  She smirked. “I guess it can’t if you’re afraid to give it a chance. You’re saying things you don’t believe.”

  His hands moved of their own volition to her curvaceous bottom. She wiggled her pelvis against his midsection and he became fully aroused, “Jess, I’ve got a fucked-up past.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “I’ve been in and out of foster homes and juvie. If not for your cousin I’d be doing hard time or dead by now. You’re young with a world of opportunities ahead of you, getting mixed up with me isn’t a smart move.”

  “We’re more alike than you think.”

  He grinned, finding humor in the statement, “How you figure?”

  “We’ve been trying to do the right thing for everybody but ourselves. My mom wants me to stay a little girl when the truth is I stopped being a little girl when I was sixteen.”

  Emilio studied her face, “Twenty’s still rather young.”

  “So are you.” She wiggled again, “I’m glad Alfonzo helped you out but you don’t owe him your life.”

  “It’s called loyalty, mi amor.”

  Her lips went to his neck, she sucked on it really hard, resulting in a small red bruise. She lifted her head and smiled, “That’s my seal of loyalty.”

  Jessica drove him crazy with the sexual teasing. Foremost, on his mind, getting her to understand his gratitude to Alfonzo. “He saved my ass.”

  “I’m happy he did,” she chortled.

  “I’m not joking.” The memory of how close he came to getting his head blown-off didn’t elicit humor. He’d gotten busted trying to swipe some drug-dealers car from the parking lot of a nightclub in San Juan. Before he hot-wired the car, a hand reached inside, yanked him out to the ground and Emilio stared into the barrel of a gun. Fortunately, Alfonzo and his companions emerged from the club, saw the commotion and intervened. After a brief discussion, turns out, the guy cared more about kissing Alfonzo’s ass then his car. Apparently, Alfonzo’s reputation caused the dude to have a change of heart and Emilio got off with a tepid warning. Alfonzo tossed Emilio his card, told him if he wanted a real job to call him. Emilio hadn’t swiped or stripped a car, eversince.

  She wiggled again and he frowned, “Jess, please, don’t…we can’t…do this anymore.”

  Her fingers worked open his fly, “Let’s see what you really think. Mister Dick will tell me the truth.”

  “Jess-,” his penis sprung to life, “dammit!” He cursed as she tugged off his trousers. She took advantage of his weakened state, straddled him and he couldn’t pretend anymore. “What do you want from me Jess?”

  “What I wanted the first time we met…I want you.” Then she took him between her thighs and the moistness sliding up and down his staff was so pleasurable he buckled in response. Her breath was hot on his throat, “You’re stronger than me, make me stop.”

  Emilio’s hands were on her breasts, touching and fondling them. In a husky voice he warned, “Jess, this isn’t a game.”

  Her lips traveled up his throat to his cheek and placed a hand on his rock hard abs, “I’m not playing. I love you Emilio, haven’t you figured it out yet?”

  Emilio’s eyes squeezed together and he sighed but refused to answer; this would only feed her false hope. However, Jessica was the type of young woman who knew what she wanted and persisted. The motions of her body, the contractions of her toned thighs, and the hands moving up his chest to his hair, were frustratingly enticing. He pushed up within her depths and her hips swiveled around him bringing such glorious friction he bent his knees to capture more of it.

  “Say you don’t love me…and I’ll walk away…I swear to you.” She whispered in a sexy voice while gliding across his body.

  His mouth opened and her tongue entered. His eyes slowly closed as she pushed it further inside, curving the pointy end to stroke the interior walls of his mouth. It drove Emilio to the brink of insanity. He wondered where she learned to kill a man with such seduction. Ultimately, she would be the reason for his slaughter.

  “Ummm,” she cooed then reclined her torso in ecstasy as he rotated to feel every part of her. She licked her lips rolling her pelvis and tightening her vaginal muscles.

  Emilio’s heart constricted, he loved her, too but saying it would not change anything. Their relationship had to end before someone got hurt.

  She leaned backward, arms extended on the side of his legs, as she rapidly ascended and descended along his staff. He seized her buttocks and held her still. He couldn’t promise her a fairytale ending. He silently swore to watch out for her –be there as her friend. As for the love thing, Jess had it, months ago, but he would not confess. Really great sex made people talk too much, then later issue a retraction. He didn’t choose to have any such issues.

  Words of love never escaped his mouth instead he ejaculated in a ferocious tidal wave; a wet, warm testament of an unspoken pledge –and she suctioned greedily leaving him dry.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “I go for two weeks and look what happen, aye-ya!” Anita fussed when Alfonzo entered the kitchen dressed in business attire and looking forward to a hot breakfast.

  It was good having Anita back. He gave her a hug; rapidly spoke in Spanish about how much she was missed then asked how her family was doing.

  “They’re fine, they don’t need me as much as you and your wife.” She waved a spatula at him when he sat down at the kitchen table, “she get skinny…you not feed her?”

  Alfonzo smirked, “She
eats.”

  She clucked her tongue as she shoveled eggs and spicy sausages onto a plate then placed it on the table. Alfonzo dug in. He smiled like a kid. Selange wasn’t a terrible cook, she just wasn’t the best, he’d never tell her though.

  The doorbell rang and he glanced over Anita’s shoulder at the security monitor on the wall chuckling. Of course, she’d come, who else would PD send?

  He asked Anita to answer the door.

  Detective Winoski and her partner followed the spry middle-age woman down the corridor. Detective Winoski didn’t miss the expensive furnishings as she walked the shiny parquet floor pass the living room and dining room until they reached the large, stainless steel appliance filled kitchen.

  Alfonzo sat there, sun streaming on his handsomely masculine face, eating his breakfast without a care in the world. She took a seat opposite him at the small black marble table and made herself comfortable, “Hey good-looking.”

  Alfonzo snickered, Detective Winoski reminded him of a pretty actress playing cop but she was the real deal. Tight black pants and all. “What’s up?”

  Anita rolled her eyes, making unnecessary noise as she set about rinsing dirty dishes and putting them in the dishwasher.

  Alfonzo eyed her male partner, a stern looking old school cop with a receding hairline and bushy mustache. He stood in the center of the kitchen, arms folded, discreetly checking out the place with his eyes.

  “What happened to your other partner?” Alfonzo asked.

  “He’s still around, this here’s Detective Higgins.”

  “Um,” he murmured, “what brings you by?”

  Detective Winoski asked her own question, “What happened to your face, get into a fight?”

  Alfonzo took a gulp of coffee, “It gets rough in the gym sometimes. Ever spar before?”

  “Where were you Saturday night around two in the morning?”

  His eyebrow rose, “Why?”

  “We can do this here or at the precinct.”

  “In that case, hold on.” He dug in his pocket for his cell and called his attorney. “Morning Martin, I need you to meet me at the…” he looked over at Detective Winoski, “what precinct?”