The Good Daughter: A Mafia Story

by Diana Layne

  “Did you enjoy last night?”

  She smiled as memories surfaced. “It was great, a fairy-tale night. I felt like a princess.”

  “You certainly sang like a princess.”

  There had been karaoke, and she took her turn on stage. She was touched and her smile spread wider. “Why, thank you.”

  “I couldn’t find you to tell you last night. You disappeared soon after.”

  Her smile fell away. “Sandro’s leg was bothering--”

  “Ahhh. Sandro. His leg. That is why I’m here.”

  “You’re here because of his leg?”

  “Si. The doctor, he sees my hand, when Sandro came in--”

  “Your hand? Are you okay?” She grabbed both his hands in hers, turning them over, looking at them closely.

  He pulled his right hand loose. “Not too bad. Just a little strain on the wrist.”

  “You’ll be able to play?”

  “Si.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  “The trainer sent me after you so he can show you how to keep Sandro’s leg wrapped.”

  “Oh, okay. Let me grab the key card, and I’ll go right down.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  The hotel management had temporarily converted the exercise rooms to training rooms for the soccer teams lodged there. Francesco punched the elevator button for the basement.

  When the doors opened, he said, “This way,” and took her to the left.

  “Which room is it?” Nia asked.

  “It is right around the cor--” Francesco stopped abruptly.

  Two men in expensive suits stood in front of the door.

  “What’s wrong?” Nia whispered, feeling suddenly nervous for no explainable reason.

  “Sandro’s there.” Francesco nodded toward the door. “But I do not recognize those men.”

  Another man dressed in wind shorts and a blue “Italy” t-shirt stalked toward the door. After exchanging heated Italian--words that Nia couldn’t quite hear--with the men in front of the door, the man in shorts stomped toward them.

  “That is the trainer coming toward us,” Francesco said quietly.

  “What’s wrong? Why isn’t he in with Sandro?” Nia kept her voice lowered as well.

  Francesco stopped the trainer and asked him. He spoke in Italian, not knowing that Nia could understand most of what was being said as she’d used the time away from Sandro to study Italian with a computer program.

  The man in shorts stomped away from them, obviously pacing the hall.

  “What did he mean about the stupid Mafia?”

  Francesco sent her a sharp look. “You understood? I did not know you could--”

  “I didn’t understand much of it. Just something about them running him out of the room. Those men are Mafia? What do they want with Sandro?” Her voice lowered to a mere whisper.

  “No, no,” Francesco hurried to assure her. “It is just the insult to call someone mafioso in Italia.”

  Yet the nattily-dressed man with gray hair who came out of the room certainly looked like a Mafia guy to her. Or how she imagined a Mafia guy would look. And though he smiled pleasantly and nodded to her as he passed, he and his two companions still gave her the creeps.

  And as it turned out, she was right. Carlo was not only a Mafia guy, but a head honcho.

  She hadn’t thought of the incident in years. And now that she had, she wondered what Carlo had wanted then. Had it just been one loyal Italian fan wishing Italy’s soccer star luck, as Sandro claimed? Or even then, had there been something more sinister going on?

  She couldn’t think of what it might be.

  And she didn’t have to think of it anymore, since Daniele’s body was now relaxed in sleep. Carefully, she adjusted him on her shoulder, pushed out of the chair and turned off the TV. Too much of a bad thing was depressing.

  Laying her son on the cot, she curled up beside him, ready for her afternoon nap. At least in sleep, as long as she didn’t have the nightmare, she forgot the bad things. If she was lucky, sometimes she even dreamed about the good things . . . .

  * * *

  “Open it.”

  Nia’s hands were shaking visibly as she reached for the small, ring-sized box.“Sandro, is this . . .” She couldn’t finish the thought. It would be too disappointing if-- She stopped that thought, too, and opened the box.

  A solitaire diamond glittered at her.“Sandro, is this . . .” she began again.

  “I want you to stay in Italy as my wife.”

  She’d been the last weeks in Italy, touring his country, falling more in love. “But--”

  “I could not bear it if you returned to the States.”

  “I can’t believe this. We haven’t known each other for very long.”

  “For me, the time we’ve known each other does not matter. I have explained to you about the--”

  “Yes, the thunderbolt. I remember. God, Sandro, I just can’t believe--”

  “You have not given me an answer. Do you need time to think about it?”

  “Think about it? It’s been my fantasy since we first met.”

  “And has being with me so far not turned out well?”

  She gave a little laugh. “Well? It turned out better than my wildest imaginings.”

  “Perhaps to be my wife would be better than your wildest imaginings, too.”

  “I don’t know, I think my imagination has gotten better lately.”

  He smiled and pulled the ring from the box, dangling it in front of her face. “Will you marry me, then?”

  “Yes, Sandro. God, yes.”

  He slipped the ring on her finger.

  In her sleep, Nia smiled and stretched.

  “Ah, cara, something makes you happy.”

  She frowned. The voice didn’t sound as if it belonged to Sandro.

  Something cold pressed under her chin. She opened her eyes.

  Massimo hovered close to her face and she frowned. “This is twice that you have awakened me,” she snapped, trying for bravado though a chill had settled over her. Where was Angie? Why was Massimo here again?

  “Lucky you, I would say.”

  He shifted and she became aware that the cold metal under her chin was a gun. A gun! All bravery fled her as a heavy lump settled in her stomach and tremors shook through her body.

  Had they found Sandro, and Massimo had been sent to kill her?

  Her thoughts must have showed on her face.

  “No, we still do not have your husband. This is between you and me.” Massimo nodded to someone over his shoulder. “Take the kid.”

  Chapter 31

  Angie fidgeted in his chair while Carlo ranted and paced the floor of his private dining room.

  “I can’t believe he outsmarted me.”

  Irritation ate at Angie. He felt antsy being away from Nia and her son. If Massimo showed up at the warehouse, Angie didn’t think Giovanni could be trusted to do the right thing. Still, Angelo managed to keep impatience from his voice as he answered his boss respectfully. “You always knew Sandro was a very smart man.”

  “This goes beyond smart.” Carlo pounded his fist in the air. “He was diabolically clever, stealing all my fucking money like he did.”

  “And he nabbed your daughter, too.”

  Carlo stilled. “He won’t hurt Marisa.”

  Angie looked his boss in the eye. “You have his wife and son, can you be sure of that? A desperate man will do anything.”

  “Yeah, that’s what he said.” Carlo sounded thoughtful. “But still, other than hunting, he’s always been so non-violent. I’ve never even seen him lose his temper and he’s Italian!”

  “I’m sure a man might abandon any values he might have when his family’s life is in danger. Isn’t that how you got him to cooperate the first time?”

  Carlo frowned at his underboss. “I never expected he would try anything so underhanded. He’s been like a member of my own family. I watched him grow up, for God’s sake.”

>   “Frankly, Carlo, I don’t think this is just some rebellion. He is serious about wanting away from the ‘family.’ Why can’t you make an exchange and--”

  “I can’t let him call the shots!” Carlo exploded. “I’m the boss of this family; I’ve outsmarted the cops in two countries. No way a soccer superstar with a big ego is going to bring me down.”

  Carlo paced to the wall and banged his fist, rattling the framed pictures of past hunting trips.

  Angie didn’t back down. “That’s just it, Carlo. He is a soccer star--he has a worldwide following. You can’t just whack him out.”

  “I can take out his wife and kid--”

  Angie’s blood ran cold. “I’m sure there’d be some sort of retaliation. You’d have the FBI crawling all over us.”

  Carlo snorted. “As if they aren’t already. Their deaths can be made to look like an accident.”

  “As much as Sandro loves his family, if you kill them, he won’t stop until you’re dead.”

  Jerking up his cell phone, Carlo jabbed in a number. “Then he’ll have to have an ‘accident’, too.” Apparently, there was no answer on the phone. Frustrated, Carlo pulled the phone away from his ear and punched in another number. “Why is no one answering their goddamned phone?” He threw the phone on the table. “Where the hell is everybody? First, Luigi disappears and now Massimo--”

  The chilled blood in Angie’s veins turned to ice. “Massimo is missing? I thought he was here when you called me.”

  “I sent him to find Luigi. Now I can’t find either one of them. They don’t answer their phones. Fuck.”

  “How long’s Luigi been missing?”

  “I was talking to him when Sandro showed up and interrupted my lunch.” Carlo splayed his hand over his stomach. “I still have indigestion. It’s been hours.”

  “You think he’s in on this?”

  “Who’s in on what?”

  “Luigi. Surely you’ve figured Sandro had to have inside help. What if Luigi’s the one who helped?”

  “What! That’s ridiculous--” Carlo broke off and frowned. “Luigi wants to marry Marisa. He has no reason to plot against me.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t want to wait for you to die. You know ambition has ruined many men.”

  Carlo shook his head. “Not Luigi. He’s as loyal as you are, Angie. I’d trust you both with my life.”

  “Then where is he?”

  “I don’t know, but Massimo is missing, too. Are you gonna suggest my son is plotting against me, too?”

  Angie had a nasty suspicion Massimo had something else on his mind at the moment. Yet he couldn’t get up and walk out on Carlo without his permission and check the theory. The mood Carlo was in, he’d likely shoot Angie.

  “Been known to happen in other families, Carlo. A man never can be too careful.” At Carlo’s thunderous look, Angie wished he’d bitten back his response. Worry was addling his mind, making him speak before thinking. “Of course, that’s not the case with Massimo. He’s loyal,” Angie soothed. “Call the office, see what’s happening there.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Carlo picked his phone up and punched in a third number. “Julia,” Carlo said to his assistant, “you found out anything yet? What? You got the bank president out of bed and he’s going to the bank now? Good thinking. Let me know the second you find out. And remind me to give you a little extra something.” Carlo disconnected the call and looked at Angie. “You heard.”

  “That was brilliant, Carlo. Julia’s as tenacious as a bulldog, she’ll find out about those accounts for you.” Angie stood. “I better get back to Sandro’s wife and kid. They may be too much for Giovanni--”

  “What? A woman and a little kid? Don’t you have them locked up?”

  “Yeah, but--”

  Carlo waved his hand dismissively. “She’ll be fine.”

  “You know she’s escaped before.”

  “You think I’m stupid? I think she’s tired and worn down now, and too worried about what I’ll do to her kid if she tries anything.”

  “What would you do with her kid if she tries to escape?”

  Carlo looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. I figured just threatening her would keep her in line. Maybe we’d have to shoot her if she does it again.”

  “What!” Angie tried to rein in his dismayed reaction.“There was a time when we didn’t hurt women.”

  Carlo snorted. “That’s old school.”

  Angie found himself inclined to believe those rumors about Carlo’s wife. “But if Nia’s dead,” Angie argued, “she won’t be much use to us.”

  “I didn’t say we’d kill her. Aim for her legs. Can’t run with shot up legs.”

  Angie wasn’t going to be aiming his gun at any part of Nia’s body. He didn’t want anyone else aiming a gun either. “She’s a soccer player, Carlo. You shoot her legs and you ruin her career.”

  Carlo shook his head and gave Angie a look. “Then she shouldn’t try to escape, should she?”

  Just then, Carlo’s cell phone chirped. He picked it up. “Yeah?” His face turned a pasty white. “You’re sure? All gone and nothing they can do?” He paused. “Of course, they’re gonna look into it. You’re goddamned right they’re gonna look into it. How could that have happened?” Carlo laid the phone on the table and sat down hard.

  “You okay, Carlo? You don’t look so good.”

  “It’s gone. All the money is really gone.”

  “Can’t they find it?”

  “They can look where the deposits went, but if it’s a legitimate account, legitimate bank, and it looks like a legitimate transaction, I’m screwed. He said, of course, they would launch an investigation.”

  Angie shook his head and whistled.

  Carlo tapped his fingers on the table, then looked up. “Someone had to give them the password to get into those accounts in the first place.”

  “Maybe Sandro persuaded Marisa to talk.”

  “Marisa’s on the accounts for an emergency, but she doesn’t know the passwords to them. Just Roberto, me and Luigi . . . Now, Luigi’s missing.” Carlo frowned. “Maybe he is looking to take over the operation like you said. Why’d you say that? You heard something?”

  Angie held out his hands. “Just a thought, Carlo. No, I haven’t heard nothing. You know I’d’ve told you.”

  Carlo slapped a fist on the table. “Well, I got no choice now. I’m gonna have to deal with Sandro.” He jerked up the phone once again. “All right, Sandro, where do you want to meet? And who are you bringing?”

  Angie looked at his watch impatiently. He’d been gone way too long.

  “Okay, Dave and Marisa and nobody else. I’m bringing Angie and Massimo and your wife and son . . . what do you mean, you’re gonna bring someone else, then? I got you outnumbered? All right then. One more man. What’s his name?”

  Chapter 32

  “No!” Nia flew up off the cot after Giovanni as he stripped Daniele away from her. Her cry woke her son and the boy promptly started screaming. “Don’t take my son!”

  Massimo knocked her back down. The brushed steel on the gun gleamed under the artificial lights as he pointed it in her face. The door shut behind Giovanni. Daniele’s screams faded as Giovanni walked away.

  Rage shook through every muscle in Nia’s body. Yet the deadly looking gun in her face kept her from any rash moves. “What are you doing with my son? Tell Giovanni to bring him back!”

  “Cara, you are in no position to be giving orders.”

  “Hurt him, and I’ll kill you.” Her chest heaved and her voice shook, but a calmness descended upon her.

  Massimo smiled at that. “You make big threats with my Beretta shoved in your face.”

  “You don’t have the balls to shoot me.” With a quick move, she knocked the gun aside and rolled off the cot. She sprang to her feet, preparing to battle.

  Fury in his face, Massimo rammed his fist against her jaw, his hand still wrapped around the black grip of his weapon. Pain exploded in
her head, forcing her to stumble backward. She landed against the wall, and worked hard to keep her footing.

  He didn’t shoot her, but that was little consolation with her jaw throbbing like electric volts were arcing through it. She tasted blood in her mouth, felt it dribbling past her lips.

  Massimo advanced upon her. She knew she’d have to take him out fast. Her strength would never last against his. She blinked, trying to clear the pain away, but he was too fast.

  He pinned her body against the wall, the cold barrel of his gun stroking against her throbbing face. “You will see soon, cara, just what kind of balls I do have.” With his free hand, he grabbed her right breast.

  Her legs nearly gave way. She locked her knees to keep herself upright. Any weakness on her part would add to his power.

  She glared. He was too close for her to knee in the groin or stomp his foot. She’d have to wait to make her move. “Show me your balls and you’ll wish you hadn’t,” she ground out, imagining squeezing, biting, twisting . . .

  He took advantage of her helplessness. Keeping her pinned against the wall with his body and the Beretta pressed just under her ear, he used his free hand to explore her body. Her flesh shrank away from his touch. A loud roaring swelled inside her head. She closed her eyes, striving for calm. If she couldn’t stay calm, she might miss her chance.

  She looked for the peaceful place deep inside, as Sandro had taught her with meditation practice. She’d gotten used to using meditation to settle her nerves before a game. It didn’t take long for her body to respond. Her breaths came deeper. Her heartbeat slowed.

  Massimo grinned. “This is more like it. You must like the rough stuff. We will get along just fine.”

  Like hell. Her heart speeded again; she concentrated on breathing to slow it once more.

  His hand freely roamed over her body. He cupped between her legs, rubbing a finger against her crotch. The seam on her pants pressed against her flesh.

  She concentrated on breathing.