by Diana Layne
“Forgive me if I find your logic skewed.”
Still chuckling, Carlo told Angie, “She is very much like my Marisa, si?”
“Who’s Marisa?” Nia played carefully dumb, though she was pretty sure she knew.
He pulled out his wallet, removed a picture. “My daughter.”
Nia kept her face blank, although the picture was clearly of the woman who was with Sandro--
“You know her?” Carlo was as perceptive as ever.
Her instincts screamed that Marisa was somehow helping Sandro. “No, I don’t know her personally,” Nia answered truthfully. “But I’ve seen her at the restaurant.” That much was true as well.
Sandro was a faithful husband. The only reasonable explanation was that Marisa, for whatever reason, was helping him. Surely that gave Sandro an edge to have the Mafia don’s daughter helping him. Nia just had to make certain not to reveal what she knew. Or thought she knew.
Carlo was still probing her with a look that said he wasn’t certain he believed her. She had to change the subject.
“Tell me, since I’m here for this enforced vacation, what do you want from my husband?”
“To talk to him of course.”
“Of course. Ever heard of a telephone?”
Carlo turned to Angie and smiled. “I like her.” He faced her again. “To answer your question, telephones are so impersonal, especially when there’s business to discuss.”
“I can see how a gun wouldn’t reach through the phone lines.”
“You think I want to kill your husband?”
Nia tossed him a phony coy look. “I don’t think you went to all this trouble so you could invite him to dinner.”
“I love your husband like a son. Yet--”
“You’re crazy! I’ve never heard him mention you.”
Carlo’s eyes narrowed. “Now, you are being rude.” He adjusted his suit jacket. “As I said, I loved him and yet he was set to betray me. Of course, if he apologizes, I may forgive him.”
“Betray? Apologize? I’m not following you.”
“We are in business together.”
“Sandro’s not in business with you!”
“Of course he is. With the ristorante.”
“No. I was there at the lawyer’s office when all the legal work was done. You have no connections to our restaurant. I know you frequently eat there, but you certainly don’t own part--” She broke off. “Oh, God. You’re laundering money through our restaurant. How?” She shook her head. “That makes no sense. Sandro would never agree.”
“You never know what makes a man say yes, do you?”
“I know Sandro. You must have threatened him somehow . . . threatened us. That’s it, isn’t it? You threatened his family.”
“Threats. Now, that is such an ugly concept, signora. I just presented a business proposal that was mutually agreeable to us. He couldn’t refuse.”
Nia felt sick. Worse, her reserve of courage was wearing thin. At the moment, she could see no way out alive. For her or for Sandro.
“Signora Crocetti, do not look so sad. I am a fair man. Once Sandro shows himself, I’m sure we can resolve our differences.”
The only resolution she saw was for someone to die. She stiffened her spine. That someone certainly couldn’t be a member of her family.
“There, now you look better. And to show you I’m not heartless, I have brought you a present.”
“Just get this tape off me and keep your present.”
“I will do better. I will loose your bindings, and I will give you your present, too.”
Unease skittered through her stomach. His present couldn’t be good for her. He was too pleased with himself. Sandro! Had they already found him and were just torturing her before they killed them both?
“Angie, get that tape off her. I will return un attimo.”
“Bella, you are too fearless.” Angie cut through the duct tape on her arms with a wicked-looking pocket knife.
Fearless? She was scared to death. It was only through a supreme effort that every muscle in her body wasn’t visibly shaking.
“You are lucky he is in a good mood,” he continued.
“Angie, he’s going to kill me. Surely you see that? It doesn’t matter what I say to him.”
“No. He said he has you a present.”
“Yes, as warped as he is, I can only imagine. Do you know what it is?”
“No.”
“Probably a .357 Magnum tied up with a pretty bow.”
“I cannot believe that, Bella. Carlo is not heartless to kill la madonna.”
She rubbed the circulation back into her wrists. “You think being pregnant’s going to keep me alive? No, as soon as Sandro shows himself, Carlo plans to kill me. You know it. I see it in your eyes.”
Angie bent down, concentrating on the tape around her feet. When he finished, she said, “Don’t get in my way next time, Angie. I don’t want to have to hurt you again.”
Looking unhappy, Angie was saved from comment when Carlo’s voice sounded outside the office. He was singing an Italian children’s song.
Nia frowned. “What the--”
Carlo opened the door and entered.
“Oh, God!” Nia’s chest caved in. “Daniele!”
Angie caught her before she rushed Carlo.
She turned on Angie. “Let me go.” She swung at him, kicked at him. Without food all day and with the physical demands she’d put on her body, her blows were weak and ineffectual.
“Calma, Bella. Be calm.” Angie wrapped her in a tight bear hug.
The moment he saw her, Danny started screaming for her, squirming in Carlo’s arms.
She strained against Angie’s hold. “He’s got my son.” Hot tears burned her cheeks. “He’s got my son.” Nia lunged, but Angie’s grip remained firm and secure. “Give me my baby, you son of a bitch. Let him go.”
“Really, Signora Crocetti. Such language in front of your child. You are upsetting him.”
“I’m not the one upsetting him. Let him go!”
Danny’s screams matched hers as they reached for each other. Tears flowed out of big hazel green eyes that were so much like his father’s.
The pain hit her like fierce blows. “Please,” she whispered, hating herself for begging. “Let me have my son.”
The pleading seemed to please Carlo. “Certainly. I’m a thoughtful man, see? I have brought your Daniele to you.”
His ‘thoughtfulness’ felt like sharp shards of glass piercing her skin. She wondered how Carlo had gotten him, what had happened to the babysitter?
He released Danny. Angie let her go. She sank to her knees to embrace her son. “Mio bambino, mio bambino,” she crooned over and over until he quieted and all that was left of his tears were soft little hiccups.
“Such a beautiful picture. Mother and child. Your son looks very much like his father.” He touched Danny’s curly hair.
“Stay away from him,” Nia hissed as she pulled her son protectively closer.
“He could have been my grandson.”
The thought of that man as Danny’s grandfather was too horrible to contemplate.
“Ah, you won’t ask. But I will tell you anyway. Your husband and my daughter were once engaged.”
Another blow. Carlo was a malicious man despite his claims.
“Don’t look so distressed. It was many years ago. He is several years older than you, no?”
His question didn’t need an answer and he continued with his monologue. “She broke off the engagement long before he met you in the United States. Yes,” he said to her shocked look. “I know all about when he met you. How Beppe was your coach. And I know all about your family and where your parents and each of your five brothers live now.”
She felt sick. It was like he was an octopus with tentacles everywhere.
“It is a good thing in my business to know all about my family.”
“We’re not part of your family.”
“Oh, s
i, signora, you are. Are you not here as my guests?”
She stood, pulled Danny into her arms. “Really, I think we’ve imposed enough. We can leave now.”
“Ah . . .” he chuckled again. “You have the sharp wit. Because you must stay with us, I have brought you your son. As long as you behave, he can stay with you. If you continue with your persistence in trying to escape, I will take him from you. You will know nothing about him then.”
She squeezed Danny. Kissed his curls. Tears clogged her throat. She couldn’t lose him.
“I know you must be hungry. I will have food brought to you, a bed. Some toys for Daniele. If you cooperate, your stay will be pleasant.” He stepped toward the door. “If you don’t, remember that I warned you.”
Angie followed Carlo out of the office.
They were alone. She and her little boy. Nia held her son. Just held him. Relishing the warmth and weight of his little body. She hadn’t known if she would ever see him again.
Daniele squirmed. “Momma, you have owie.” He gently patted her bruised face.
“Si, bambino. Momma has an owie.” She moved to the desk chair and sat down. “Where have you been, little one?”
“Zio. Zia.” He bounced in her lap. “I’ve been with Zio and Zia.”
“So your aunt and uncle have had you?” She wondered where they were now. She prayed they weren’t hurt when Carlo’s men snatched Daniele, but in the pit of her stomach she feared they were. She’d known Giuseppe and Luciana longer than she’d known Sandro. She knew without a doubt they would fight to the death to protect their family.
She was tempted to question Daniele about how Carlo’s men got him, but she didn’t want him to have to live through it again.
Frustration chewed at her stomach, making it difficult to eat when Angie brought in food from the local deli.
“I thought perhaps the little one would like chicken. All children seem to like chicken.”
“That’s fine.”
“And you, Bella, you eat something, too.”
“I’ll try.”
“No. You must remember the bambino.”
Sudden tears sprang to her eyes. If she died, there would be no baby. And Danny would without a mother. Perhaps without a father, too. An orphan. Or worse, what if Carlo kept him and raised him to be a crook? Unthinkable.
Angie’s brow knit in concern. “Look, just for you I order vegetables and juice.” He took the items out of the bag. “I remembered you don’t like milk.” For such a big man, he seemed awkward and eager to please. She wondered how he got involved in such a sordid life.
She sniffed away her tears. “Thank you.” Of them all, Angie seemed to care whether she lived or died. Of course, she could be hallucinating from fear and fatigue.
Once he left, she laid the food out on the desk and helped her son to eat. She ate a few bites herself, knowing she needed food now more than ever. For nourishment, but more importantly for stamina to face whatever would happen. There was bound to be an opportunity to escape again--even though Carlo thought that Danny would make her hesitate. If anything, having Danny made her more determined to get away. And she would need her strength to succeed.
She opened her mouth and shoved in another forkful of green beans.
Later, Angie brought in a cot, a couple of blankets and two pillows. Nia used the small office bathroom to wash Danny’s face and ready him for bed. She climbed onto the cot with him.
When Sandro wasn’t traveling, he tucked his son into bed at night, telling him some Italian fable or another. Nia wracked her brain to remember one of the stories.
“Where’s poppa? Why aren’t we home?” Danny asked when she finished the story.
“Poppa’s gone right now. And we will be home soon.”
“Don’t like these men. Want to go home.”
“I don’t like them either, my sweets, but we’ll all be home soon and we can forget them then.”
After Danny fell asleep, she kissed him, then closed her eyes and prayed. “Let us all be home soon.” She had to believe. Soon. They would be together again.
* * *
The lock rattled. Nia tensed and sat up as the door opened and Angie walked into the office.
“You are still awake.”
“Are you alone?” Her gaze searched for any sign of Carlo.
“I am alone.”
She relaxed her guard a little.
“The bambino,” Angie said. “He is sleeping?”
She smiled down at her son, smoothed her fingers over his curly hair. “Yes, he’s sound asleep.”
“You should be, too.”
“I can’t sleep.”
Angelo nodded, looked thoughtful. “Wait here, I will be right back.”
“Not as if I could go anywhere, Angie,” she said after he shut the door behind him. When she didn’t hear him turn the lock, she considered grabbing up Danny and making a run for it. But no, he said he would be right back. She doubted there would be--
He opened the door again. Ideas of escape flittered away.
Angie had an old-fashioned boom box in one hand, a stack of CDs in the other. “Listening to music sometimes helps me sleep at night.”
“Yeah, I bet with all you have on your conscience, it is hard for you to sleep.”
Angie didn’t defend himself. He looked through the CDs. “Here, I like her. Do you?” He held up a Celine Dion greatest hits CD.
Nia’s heart clenched as memories hit her. She’d sung Celine’s songs at their restaurant. “Yeah, she’s okay.”
“Will it wake the bambino?”
“No. He can sleep through anything.”
Angie nodded. “The sleep of the innocent.”
Nia bit back another insult. Angie had tried to be nice, all things considered. She mentally shook her head. Geez, she must be losing it. Making excuses for a mobster.
Celine’s voice came softly out of the speakers. Angie settled his bulk in the desk chair. “I’ve heard you sing at the restaurant before. You are very good.”
“Thanks.”
“Why have you not gone professional?”
“I have soccer. And my family. There’s been no time to pursue a singing career. The music business is very demanding. Very competitive.”
“You are blessed with much talent. Perhaps after this next bambino you will think it is time to retire from soccer. Then you can sing.”
Nia gave a rude laugh. “You really think I’m going to be alive that long, Angie?”
A sad look filled his face. He ran his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, obviously conflicted. “If I have anything to do with it, Bella, you will be alive. And so will your husband.”
Tears burned her eyes. She sniffed. “Thanks, Angie.”
He pushed his bulk to his feet and awkwardly patted her head. “Try to sleep, Bella.” He shook his head and muttered, “A bad business,” as he closed and locked the door behind him.
* * *
A federal agent led Roberto out of the holding cell to a secure meeting room. His lawyer, waiting at the table, stood when Roberto entered. Roberto had an odd sense that he was on a television drama, because this stuff only happened on crime TV. But there was no bright lights and cameras, just a security camera mounted high in a corner. Strangely, it did not make him feel secure.
Roberto shook his lawyer’s hand. Like all men high up in the Peruzzo family, the lawyer dressed well. Three piece designer suit, gold jewelry, manicured fingernails. Roberto had seen the lawyer at the office, but never had much contact with him. Roberto’s main focus was his job. He knew he worked for the mob, but he wasn’t involved with the seedier side. His job was to find legitimate investments and keep track of the money. The ethics never bothered him, and he never thought he’d be the one arrested when there were bigger crooks than him who worked with Peruzzo.
“Why am I here?” he asked, when they took seats at the table, one on each side.
“I don’t know,” the lawyer said. “They don’t have
to formally charge you for seventy-two hours.”
“That’s three days! I have to sit here that long not knowing why I’m here?”
“Listen, Mr. Torino.” The lawyer leaned over the table, closer to Roberto. “I’ve seen this kind of thing before. I think they have you in custody to give you time to think.”
“Time to think? What does that mean?” Roberto demanded.
“Yeah, you know how it goes.” The lawyer sat back, shrugged. “You sit here, think, worry, get scared, and when they offer you a deal, you’ll be more willing to help.”
“A . . . deal? You think they’re after Mr. Peruzzo then?”
The lawyer shrugged. “Or one of his associates. It’s possible.”
A chill skittered down Roberto’s spine. His job could be at risk. Worse, if he became a rat, his life could be at risk. But if not, could they keep him locked up? What did they have on him? His thoughts were moving at lightning speed with one scenario after another.
“What can I do?” he whispered, fear stealing his voice.
“Best thing is just to sit here and keep quiet. They’ll have to make a move soon, and then we’ll know what to do. I just came here to let you know that Mr. Peruzzo is thinking of you.”
Somehow, knowing that did not offer Roberto any comfort.
Chapter 24
Dave headed to the Crown Vic to get it warmed up while Sandro visited with his aunt and uncle. At Sandro’s insistence, Marisa waited inside until he was ready to leave. Dave supposed Sandro thought he was calling the shots now, but Dave didn’t see any reason to challenge him over Marisa waiting behind. There was no reason for her to be cold.
But Sandro was not going to steal another woman from him, Dave vowed, knowing Nia would have been his if Sandro hadn’t entered the picture.
At first, Dave believed Sandro was no more than a passing infatuation. It hurt to see Nia so obviously crazy for the guy. It hurt to think of her climbing into Sandro’s bed. Yet, Dave’s goal had always been long term, and he could live with a passing fling.
