by Sienna Mynx
Giovanni shot the door handle off. He tried to kick it in but something blocked it. Giovanni threw his weight against the door just as someone shot at him and missed. He turned and fired, killing the man. He again charged the door with his shoulder. After three consecutive body slams against the wood, the hinge broke and gave. It was forced to open a few inches. Giovanni pushed with his shoulder and forced it to open further. There was something barricading it from the inside. Instinct told him to go in low. He was saved because he obeyed his gut and ignored the panic in his heart. Someone must have heard him trying to get inside. The bullets zipped above his head. He returned fire but not with accuracy. He couldn’t see. It was darker inside the monastery than out. He heard his men behind him. They were coming to join him. Giovanni had only one purpose, find Kei Hyogo. Kill Kei Hyogo.
The side entrance led to what looked like a kitchen. He kept low to avoid the shooter. When he tried to run past the counter, gunfire exploded to his left. Giovanni stood and blasted off several shots in the general direction of his assassin. Light flashed each time the trigger was pulled, and he saw his assassin drop. And then another who came running in took several bullets to his chest. The sulfuric stench of gun smoke made his eyes and throat burn. He ignored it and kept going. It was then he was met face to face with Kei Hyogo. Both men were startled at first to see each other. Giovanni was slow to react. Kei’s gun clicked empty. Giovanni shot at him but his aim was off. The miss gave Kei a chance to attack. He charged Giovanni and several shots were released into the ceiling. The gun dropped. Kei delivered fast acting punches that hit Giovanni in his face, throat, and chest. If it weren’t for pure adrenaline boiling in Giovanni’s veins, he would have been dropped to his knees. Instead he wrestled Kei down by tackling him with a shoulder rush to Kei’s gut. The man was tall but not as tall as Giovanni. He soon had the advantage, but it was short lived. In the struggle his broken hand was yanked, and another blow was delivered to Giovanni’s head with Kei’s iron fist. Giovanni was shoved off. He saw his gun. He needed Kei down and he had only minutes to react. He scrambled to his feet. Kei was up as well and coming for him. He swung his leg with a lighting strike of a karate kick to Giovanni’s back. Giovanni went down again, but this time within reach of his gun. He grabbed it and rolled out of Kei’s next kick. He fired.
The bullet hit Kei in the knee. He howled in agony. Giovanni stood. Taking down deep breaths he aimed at Kei.
“You’re too late. Killing me won’t change a thing. She’ll never be with you and not think of me again!” Kei laughed.
Giovanni shot Kei in his other knee. He screamed in agony. Several men ran inside. Giovanni nearly shot them next. They froze. He recognized them as Mancini’s men. Armando walked in. He was bleeding from the arm. He looked at Kei dragging himself across the floor.
“Keep him here for me,” Giovanni spat blood from his bruised mouth. “I’m going to get my wife.” He panted.
Armando nodded. He stepped on Kei’s leg and the man screamed again in agony. Giovanni realized he was bleeding in the chest, face, and the neck. Kei had used some iron glove to fight with that had shredded him. He didn’t feel any of it. The blood didn’t matter. Kei’s words gutted him worse than his superficial wounds. He went for the stairs. It was pure instinct he was working on now.
“Bella!” he yelled.
There was no answer. He went left instead of right down the hall. He kicked open every door because his fucking hands were now useless. “Bella! Bella!” he yelled. He wanted to do the search on his own. He didn’t know what he’d find. Kei’s nasty words burned in his head. Each room was empty. Giovanni felt a surge of panic. Was she dead? Is that what he meant? Was she hurt? No! No! She couldn’t be dead. She was hidden somewhere. But why wasn’t she answering him? Giovanni arrived at another stairwell, a much narrower one that led to the unknown.
“Bella!” he cried out again.
There was only one door left to him. He pushed it open. The room was dark. The only light came from the open doors to the balcony. He walked toward the bed. Mirabella lay on her side under the covers. She was still.
“Bella?” Giovanni walked around the bed. Her hair was in her face. He could tell she was nude under the sheets. He went to his knees. He moved her hair from her face and found that she was damp, feverish with sweat. She wasn’t fully unconscious, but she wasn’t aware of him or where she was either. “It’s me. It’s Gio,” he said softly. “I’m here, mia amore.”
Again she moaned and her lips moved wordlessly. Giovanni turned her. There was bruising to the side of her face and her throat. Some of it looked fresh. His rage surfaced again and paralyzed him. Giovanni swallowed the sob in his throat and blinked away his tears. He wrapped her up in the sheet and ignored the pain in his hand when he lifted her from the bed. Her head fell back and her arm swung in a listless motion. She felt light. It had only been seventy-two hours, and she felt as if she weighed nothing. He lifted her and pressed his ear to her breast. He heard her heart beat, and it was strong, but it had a very accelerated rhythm. He nearly wept with relief.
Kei had drugged her. Just as he suspected when he watched the video of them both. He refused to think of anything else he might have made his wife endure. He carried her out of the room and down two flights of stairs. Below, Armando and his men waited. Seven men out of the twelve Giovanni brought with him were waiting as well. To the middle of the floor were eight badly beaten Asian men on their knees with their hands behind their heads. Kei was before them seated, bleeding. He looked up first. His face covered in sweat, his eyes blazing with hatred. Giovanni did not take his eyes off him. Mancini’s men held guns on them.
“Is she alive?” Armando approached.
Giovanni remembered who he was and answered with a stoic nod instead of the emotional breakdown he was on the verge of. Inside his head he screamed. “She’s hurt. I need to bring her home.”
“We can take her to the village doctor. There’s a clinic not far from here,” Armando said.
He looked at her for a moment, torn. He could never hand her over to anyone. He didn’t trust them. He had to bring her home. “No. I’m taking her home.”
“And them?” Armando said.
“Kill them all. But bring their leader on the boat, for me. I’ll need a machete,” Giovanni walked toward the door.
“Giovanni! Giovanni! We aren’t done! We will never be done!” Kei shouted to his back as he walked out of the front door. The gunfire blasted behind him. The slaughter happened. He didn’t bother to turn and witness it. He kissed Mirabella’s feverish brow under the moonlight and carried his wife toward the beach.
Sorrento, Italy –
Lorenzo came in through their bedroom door. Mirabella stood. She had sat on the edge of the bed waiting. He glanced around the room and then to her. “You disappeared?” he asked.
“I was waiting for you,” she answered. “How are you?”
“I’m better now.” Lorenzo closed the door. He put his hands in his pockets. “I see they covered the holes in the walls. And the window is fixed.”
Marietta nodded. “Looks like the way things used to be in here.”
“Doesn’t feel that way. Does it, Marie?” Lorenzo asked.
She bit back her tears. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Things I’m afraid to tell you. Because I don’t want to lose you, Lo.”
He sighed. “Me too.”
The confession hurt. Neither asked for the other to explain the specifics. The truth was implied. He took a step toward her. “In jail I sobered up. Focused. I wish I had done so sooner.”
She waited with baited breath. She feared what might come next. Maybe she didn’t physically cheat on him, but she did emotionally. And she knew what end her lies would bring. All she wanted was a clean slate, a real chance for their marriage to work again.
“Can I touch you?” he asked.
Marietta nodded her head yes and tears of relief sprung to her eyes. Lorenzo towered over her as he
often did. His rough hands felt gentle on her skin. One cupped the side of her face. “So beautiful. Marie, I’d give my life for you. I swear on it, cara, I did not take another woman into my bed. I tried. I failed. No matter how badly I hurt for you, I love you with all my heart. From the deepest most purest part of my heart. Say you believe me.”
“I want to,” she let tears fall. “When I think of what I did, how easy I lied to you, it’s hard to believe you’re not capable of the same.”
“May I kiss my wife?” he asked.
Confused that he’d want to with her crying, she nodded her head yes. He lowered his face and brought his lips to hers. There was a soft gentle relief she felt when their lips met. She blinked up at him, surprised when their lips parted.
“We of all people should know how precious and rare it is to find our kind of love,” Lorenzo said with a chuckle. “We can’t let our fears defeat us, Marie. I won’t lose you. Ever.”
“You forgive me? Really?” she asked.
“I forgave you when you pulled the gun on me, my little gangster.”
She threw her arms around his waist and laughed. He hugged her. Kept her close to his heart. He lifted her. Not that he had to, but he often did when he wanted to be the one to bring her to bed.
The feel of her lips on his face and neck soothed him. He ached for his wife the most when he was put away. He saw Carlo, saw Giovanni’s pain, and wondered how he could jeopardize their happiness. How he of all people could forget the precious gift of love his wife gave him when she agreed to be his. Marie would be his. She’d give him sons, and he’d give her a family she could believe in.
Her thighs parted for him. He dragged his lips from her mouth to her neck. She let go a soft breath and closed her eyes. He tasted her left nipple. He coaxed what felt like a swollen berry on his tongue into his mouth, and then opened his mouth wider to swallow her areola. His hand rubbed down her stomach to the soft delta between her thighs. He stroked her pussy. He glanced up to see the pleasure twist and release the smile on her face. The long dark lashes that shadowed her amber brown, doe-like eyes, fluttered. Her breathing escaped her tiny nostrils. Lorenzo released her nipple to bury his face between her breasts. He didn’t take his hands from the heated softness of her plump pussy. The softness of her pussy and breasts were such a comfort.
“I missed you, Marie,” he groaned deep in his throat. He lifted his head and looked at her. She was now looking at him. “I love you.”
Lorenzo took his time. But eventually lust and regret overwhelmed him. Her silent acceptance made his hunger for her insatiable. He eased up on her, with her beautifully stretched beneath him. He pressed into her, freed his dick. He moved the seat of her panty aside and glided straight inside her tightness, until his groin met with her sweet cunt. He pinned down her hips with both of his hands, and stared at her face as he moved in and out of her. Marie was beautiful to him. The most beautiful woman he’s ever loved or seen. And when he fucked her, each time he fucked her, it felt like a privilege. The world outside was falling apart for them both. But this stolen moment between them was all they needed. He wouldn’t let go.
Damn his dick hurt. It often did when he went past a week without this pleasure. It was swollen, and impossibly harder when she responded to him with a nice roll of her hips. Her tight pussy clamped down on his dick the deeper he tunneled, and then her inner muscles constricted even tighter. The lush sounds of his dick thrusting in and out of her slick channel, mixed with her shaky moans and the banging of the headboard. He fought hard against his nature to release.
“Lorenzo?” she gasped. The first words she spoke since he’d taken her. She gripped his shoulders and her nails dug into his biceps.
“Yes, baby,” Lorenzo said working his hips to sink deeper after each thrust.
“Can’t! Can’t! Can’t take it,” she exhaled, warning of an impending release.
“Take me with you, Marie,” he groaned. He sat back on his hunches and brought her with him. She was wrapped around him, seated on his dick. He grabbed the perfectly round globes of her ass cheeks, and parted them so he could open her even wider as she went up and down on his dick. “Mmm yes, Marie, yes!”
Marietta rocked, and pushed, and bounced on his cock. Together they found a rhythm that pleased them both. He crashed with her back on the bed. Her face was reddened, and her features were tight as she joined him in the ultimate climax. It felt pure between them.
He lay on her. He struggled to breathe. He rolled to his side and his dick slipped out of her. She came over into his arms. In his pursuit of happiness with his wife again, he’d forgotten to undress her and truly explore her body. Her dress was crumbled up at her waist and pulled down to the front to release her breasts. His dick lay limp against his thigh outside of his zipper. Marietta kissed his jaw and snuggled against his chest.
“Lo?” she asked.
“Hmmm?” he smiled.
“Isabella. She’s back.”
Lorenzo’s eyes opened. “I know. I was told.”
“Is it the same person? The one who came after us?” Marietta asked.
“I think so,” he answered.
“What are you going to do?” she lifted her head. “If Giovanni can’t find Mirabella, if this Isabella has killed her and we…”
“Marie,” he cast his gaze over to her. “I’ll take care of her. I swear it. And Giovanni will find your sister. He will bring her home.”
She dropped her head and eased her arm around his waist. She put her thigh over his legs and held to him. Lorenzo closed his eyes. He would find Isabella, and before he snapped her neck, the bitch would hand over every tape she had of him betraying his family.
Ospedale Cardarelli,
Naples Italy
“Santo?”
A soft voice whispered into his ear. Santo opened his eyes. He hurt all over. But his vision was clear. Isabella’s face appeared. She presented the sweetest smile. Her fingers lightly grazed his cheek. “You’re a survivor. Aren’t you, sweetheart? A warrior,” she said.
He blinked in response. He glanced around the hospital room. His jaw was wired shut. He remembered a team of doctors standing over him and explaining the extent of his injuries. The fracture was from chin to ear. They told him it would be months before he’d be able to speak, and even then he’d require more surgeries.
Isabella dropped her purse on his bed. She walked over to the door of his hospital room and locked it. “The polizia in Napoli are very helpful. Do you know that I told them that I was your wife, and they gave me a private escort up to your bedside?”
Santo frowned. He was in the hospital under police protection? It would explain why he was still alive. Isabella gave a very light laugh. She walked over to his window and his eyes followed her. “Giovanni will come for you,” she glanced over to him once more. “I am sorry that there is nothing more that I can do to protect you.”
A loud grunt escaped him. He grunted again in his throat to get her attention. That was not the plan. She turned on him. Tricked him. The evil bitch had set him up.
“I know! I know. You think you were used. That’s not entirely true. Bonaduce hates everyone and everything with the stench of la Camorra, because of the death of his son. There was no way he would protect you and then put you in power. He wants to wipe southern Italy clean of la Camorra. You should have known better than to believe otherwise.”
She walked over to him. He reached to grab her. He’d love to put his hand around her throat. But she effectively sidestepped the swipe of his arm.
“By now Giovanni knows who I am. I’m sure of it. Kei Hyogo was a madman. He even turned on his uncle to use the Triad here. A fool to be so fucking crazy over that mutt Gio is married to. But I saw that madness. I stroked it for two years. Until revenge consumed him with jealousy and brought him here. He actually believed I could steal the brat and bring her to him. Instead I left a few bread crumbs to put Giovanni on his scent.” She checked her watch. “If I’m right, Gio’s
there now. Oh Santo!” she exclaimed, “You should have seen Giovanni begging all over the Campania for assistance. Indebting himself to his enemies, partnering with the Mafiosi, looking like a pathetic weakling to the other clan bosses because of his grief.” She stepped closer. “That’s how I will destroy him. Turning his madness in on him. The same way I turned Kei’s madness inward. Oh the plans I have! I wish you could be around to see it!”
Santo frowned. He understood. Isabella helped return Mirabella back to Giovanni after letting Kei destroy her. And that was a far greater accomplishment than killing the bitch or his Don. Isabella stared at him with a triumphant smile that was pure evil.
“I will break him down piece by piece, until he is left with nothing. That’s how you win the war. I am sorry, Santo. There is no payday for you. You know how this ends.”
Santo’s eyes stretched. She softened her smile and looked at him with pity. He lunged his hand out for her, but she again sidestepped his reach. “One night when that guard is asleep outside your door, someone will pay you a visit. Possibly Lorenzo. Maybe even Gio himself. They won’t end it nicely for you. But when they do take your life, remember your contribution to justice. Your sacrifice will bring the most powerful man in our lives to his knees. Hopefully that will give you peace.” She picked up her purse. She started for the door. She glanced back at him with a quizzical look.
“Do you think Giovanni will ever look at his wife the same after what we did to her?” Isabella grinned with excitement. “I don’t think she’s so precious anymore.”
When Santo didn’t respond Isabella shrugged.
Helpless and confused, Santo lay in his bed and watched as Isabella breezed out the door. He closed his eyes. He did want revenge. He betrayed every vow he ever made in the brotherhood. But he never took the time to consider that the revenge he sought was never his to have. Isabella had played him. He clenched his fist. He was a dead man. All he could do was wait to die.
