by S. W. Frank
“Turn off the lights before someone sees the car!” Aaron exclaimed when they entered the road leading to the private property.
Darren found an area of shrubbery where he parked. Then they traveled by foot across the fields where farmers once toiled from sun-up to sundown, staying close to the ground as they ran in unison to a low lying brick gate which stretched around the property.
“There he is.”
Darren had pointed to a figure walking just as Anna stated.
The man was bold in Darren’s opinion to live alone out in the countryside when he was so hated. Perhaps he thought his sordid reputation would deter anyone from a confrontation. The old geezer stuck Anna in Cefalú alone in a dowdy place, meanwhile by the looks of his renovated property, he basked in splendor.
Yosef was engaged in a heated conversation. That is how he was caught unaware. The attackers had come in stealth. Bulky figures pounced on a lone homeowner feet from his gate where guards did not exist because he had no need of security. Cocky sonovabitch that he was realized the errors of his ways, too late. Payback is twin fists of karma and when they hit deadly intent is the force behind the strike.
Yosef’s cell was dropped.
It shattered.
In the onslaught of punches to the rib and lumbar, he caught sight of his attackers. They were the youth; Sophie had warned were coming to his home. These were Nico’s sons. He didn’t get the entire story, but he supposed he would after he showed the brave kids what seniority meant.
He flipped Darren over his shoulder, caught Aaron’s leg and sent him crashing on his ass atop his already damaged phone and it went to a metal grave. When Darren stood, he received closed fists punches, not to break bones but to sting. Hands seized the youth’s shirt and like a sack of wheat shoved him aside to grip the other twin in a secure headlock.
“Step back boy or I’ll snap his neck!” he said to Darren before he advanced after drawing a weapon from his boot.
“Hurt my brother and I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.”
“Shoot the fucker!” Aaron urged.
“I’m not that good of a shot stupid,” Darren replied. “I might hit you too.”
“Then why pull out a gun child, if you can’t use it?” Yosef challenged. “Both hands, firm stance, line me up and bam I’m dust.”
Aaron swallowed the lump in his throat. If Darren missed, oh crap, he croaked. “Darren don’t do it.”
Darren had the weapon lined with his chest, arms outstretched, one eye closed, and a finger on the trigger. “You leave Anna alone old man. Do you hear me?”
Ah, the mystery motivation was revealed. He loosened his arms from around Aaron’s neck so the dumb kid could breathe. “Anna is free to do whatever she pleases boy. She is no longer my concern.”
“Then why were you threatening to hurt her?”
“To keep her in line during our marriage. Youngsters require firmness.”
“I want your word you’ll leave her alone.”
“Do you like Anna?” Yosef asked twisting Aaron from side to side like string and his feet dragged on the ground. Nico should beat these two, he thought as he saw love in the gunman’s eyes for the girl he relinquished for a woman.
“We’re friends.”
“Fucking friends as your generation calls it?”
“Friends with benefits,” Aaron volunteered. He jeered, “Old people.”
Yosef noticed movement near an old well overgrown with vines. The moonlight caught another shadow crawling across the grass.
“Listen to me boys. There are men coming to kill me. They will kill you as well. Go and do not stop until you are home.” He shoved Aaron aside. “Go I say!”
Aaron blinked. “Where’s your gun old fool?”
“In the house.”
Aaron saw the distance Yosef would need to cross and tossed the unarmed Israeli his dad’s semi-automatic he’d concealed in a leg holster. They had come to scare Yosef, not kill him, that’s why he hadn’t drawn it. Darren on the other-hand was prepared to use his weapon on an unarmed person. Their dad wouldn’t have approved. Two against one, they weren’t ready to be protectors, if they were; they would’ve taken down Yosef without a gun.
“Thanks now go home.”
The boys took off in a sprint, hopping over branches and grass until they were safely to their vehicle. Just as Darren started the engine, boom, boom, boom, resounded in the night.
Aaron peered out the back window. The curiosity of a youth made it impossible not to look. Muzzle flashes told of a firefight. Near the gate he only saw a light like a spark, defending against many flashes in the dark. He shook his head as Darren roared away. Whatever wrong the man did he didn’t deserve to die that way. Damn this need to be part of the action; damn this desire to stand with an underdog.
“Go back Darren!” he shouted.
“No, are you crazy.”
He looked at his brother. “Darren that man could’ve killed us but he didn’t. Go back, let’s return the favor, one day it’ll come in handy.”
Darren hit the break. “You psycho,” he spat and then put his feet to the gas pedal and turned the steering wheel to speed in the direction where Yosef crouched, wounded but alive.
The car screamed as the tires skid near the Israeli and Darren shouted to the guy. “Get in, hurry!”
Yosef jumped inside the rear door. “Floor it kid!” And then he rested for a moment to slow his heart rate. A bullet had nicked his neck. The bleeding was precluded with pressure from his palm. He closed his eyes for a second, smirking at Nico’s boys. Youth were reckless; good ones were idealistic. He’d been these boys until the politics of nations taught him the treachery of men.
Chapter Sixteen
The chauffeur carried Amelda’s YSL travel bag inside. The greeting at night she received was from the cook, announcing she was leaving for the night but she had stayed late to prepare a congratulatory meal for her employer’s success. Amelda thanked the cook, waved good-night and then removed her shoes.
Tired from the long night and preoccupation with this present Matteo was supposed to have given her, made her accomplishment hollow.
Why she wondered, when a person has everything they ever dreamed, is there a nightmare sitting in the corner?
She wasn’t hungry, she was mad.
At the after party she had chatted with the jewelry designer, feigning a return of memory. She gushed over the bracelet she’d never seen and tapped her temple with a gold dust fingernail phishing discreetly.
“Oh bello, I loved the design, you are uber talented. I have not told Matteo, but I may have misplaced the bracelet. Matteo gives me so many gifts that sometimes he spoils me.”
“I cannot fault a husband for lavishing his wife with gifts, especially one as lovely and talented as you Amelda,” the jewelry designer said.
The disingenuous compliment did not swell Amelda’s head. People in their industry doled out flattery to everyone, even to those obviously horrendous. Making people look and feel attractive was the nature of the fashion business. Some might add comfortable in their skin or which displays their individuality but Amelda believed self-confidence is worn best; accessories were nothing more than condiments.
She had the villa to herself. Matteo would not arrive home until the early hours. Usually on a Saturday night he spent evenings with male friends, at least that is what she believed, but after today doubt crept in.
A bracelet begins the questions.
Investigation can disprove or confirm the suspicions.
A fool of a wife disregards the information; a woman afraid to bear the truth denies evidence of
a husband’s affair because she cannot admit she was duped. Or perhaps she knows but prefers to live like Eve in the garden before eating the fruit. Why was it bad to be aware, Amelda always wondered?
Throughout history the serpents were the people who sought to keep others illiterate. Martin Luther’s letter to the King presented a personal observation of the church. He remarked the scriptures were in Latin, many of the flock could not read, therefore relied on a priest’s interpretation. He expounded to question whether this was to maintain the congregant’s ignorance.
Amelda felt like the flock, believing without query.
Not anymore.
She called Matteo to tell him she arrived safely.
He claimed to be at his mama’s.
She didn’t believe him anymore.
“Bring Ignacio when you come bello,” she told him because she didn’t trust being alone with the father.
“It is late bella; can he not stay until morning?”
She did not want her son around any of the Peglesi’s, for some reason she no longer trusted their lot, her husband was a Peglesi and she questioned his honor. She told him a lie as she went into his office and sat in his well-worn chair to search through his desk. “I wish to take him to mass and he does not have the proper clothes there bello,” she answered while reading the papers she found.
Nothing.
She opened his laptop and played with password combinations. Hopefully he would not get an alert on his phone, but if he did she would lie, isn’t that what he’d done?
“Okay. You did not say how the evening went. Did you have a good time?” he asked like a dutiful husband.
“Bellissimo.”
She tried her son’s birthday.
Nothing.
Her birthday.
Not that either.
Oh, perhaps his mama.
No.
His papa.
Aye!
“Can you bring a piece of your mama’s soufflé,” she asked before he hung up to stall him further.
“Certainly.”
She grew irritable. Cracking codes was not her forte, but she tried once more.
Geovonna.
The screen brightened and icons appeared.
The cazzo!
She leaned forward and went to his e-mails, another password was needed. She bypassed the security by typing Geovonna’s birthday and voila, the simpleton made it easy for a wife who knows.
The last e-mail was prior to Geovonna’s death; she read it as Matteo announced he would be home shortly.
“Sí,” she said mechanically and then hung up to read the exchange.
Geovonna: I love the gift bello, but can you afford such extravagance?
Matteo: It is not extravagant enough, mi amore.
Amelda’s face twisted in beautiful disgust.
Geovonna: You do not need to bribe me to keep your confidences.
Matteo: That is not why I show my appreciation.
Geovonna: hopefully you will not squander money gambling bello. Amelda is not accustomed to living as a pauper.
Matteo: Her inheritance is secured. She will not miss what is mine because she has more.
Geovonna: Do you not feel any guilt about your papa and his friend?
Amelda stiffened.
Matteo: He confided too much in his amico. Besides, he planned to disinherit me and I could not chance Amelda finding out.
Geovonna: If I can secure my marriage to her brother, we will both have what we want.
Matteo:
Geovonna: ♥
Amelda wanted to puke. She could not read further. The bile had risen. Matteo had a hand in her Uncle Alberti’s murder and his papa. She logged out, shut down the device and raced upstairs to vomit.
A fool I am to not see the truth. Geovonna had been cocky. No wonder, she had strut about in arrogance. Geovonna and Matteo were lovers. How long, she wondered, how long had they lain together laughing at her expense?
More sickness came, until the food had emptied from her stomach.
Chapter Seventeen
Giuseppe had fallen into an exhausted sleep. An outing with a toddler zaps energy from mature bones. Ah, but his dreams were so nice he smiled.
Carlo and his papa were happy. Sí papa envisioned Nicole naked in the center of a table of food, with an apple in her micio waiting for him to bite. He kicked his leg at something holding too tight, and then he was bit hard.
He bolted forward to see Gee’s eyes glowing in the dark. It took a moment for Giuseppe to get his bearing and when he did, he hurriedly donned slacks and comfortable loafers. The automatic received a clip. He did this in less than a minute.
He had trained Gee well. There was something stirring that only a watch dog could smell. Giuseppe went to his son’s room and lifted him out of the bed. He placed the boy down on the floor, just as he did, shards of glass ricocheted through the windows from a high-powered assault weapon.
Carlo awakened and began crying as his father held him to the floor.
“Ssssh figlio, you are not to move. Gee will guard you as he has watched over me. The dog has mama’s spirit, capisce?”
Carlo hiccupped tears, but he nodded.
Giuseppe rubbed his cheeks. “Papa loves you and I will return but you must be brave. I will not die this day, I will return for you figlio, lo prometto.” He then rubbed the dog as it lie protectively in front of his son. “Let no harm come to my son.”
Then Giuseppe exited and Carlo’s small hand reached for the soft fur of a friend. Dogs are fiercely loyal. They will guard those they love and die in protection if need be.
The tears of a frightened child as gunshots echoed in the night received the comforting warmth of a canine with a loving spirit. Gentle sobs against the coat of fine hairs were for his papa who had been gone too long. The child called his papa loud when the minutes ticked on.
Then a dog rose, its ears lifted and a child’s hand slipped from the animal’s taut body. In the dark, Gee leaped with deadly teeth, bared and sharp.
Giuseppe looked around the perimeter, shouting orders at the guards posted on the perimeter with high powered weapons. They’d injured a shooter, killed another, but before they could apprehend the wounded man, he’d taken off. He sent men in pursuit and barked instructions in the night.
“Bring my car!” He could not risk Carlo staying in the house until he investigated where the breach in security occurred. Nico had installed the latest high-tech security with motion sensors that detected movement beyond the immediate grounds. None of the alarms had activated and if not for Gee –aye his son.
A cold sweat and tiny bumps appeared on his skin.
Giuseppe ran inside the house, his legs traveled at a speed that would make a sprinter proud. He reached the landing and heard Gee’s snarls. The dog was in attack mode. Gun drawn, Giuseppe barged through the open door and discovered Gee with his teeth sunk into the neck of an intruder. The vicious growls were deep as the canine penetrated a lifeless body. The jerking motion of the massive pitbull is what brought the illusion of life in the human.
Discarded on the floor was a weapon, extremely close to Carlo’s bed.
A moment of panic occurred as a frightened father hurried to his son hidden in the closet. At the sight of his father, the boy cried, “Papa Gee ate the bad man!”
Giuseppe grabbed his son tight, buried his head in the boy’s chest and a joyful sob that he was unharmed escaped a tough papa. “Sí, Gee has protected us figlio.”
He heard his cell ringing and took the boy from the bloody room to answer. He whistled for his faithful companion as he hurried downstairs and welcomed the maternal voice in his ear. He closed his eyes to it like a grateful boy. “Mama it is late, are you wel
l?”
“Sí, what of you and Carlo?”
“Sí mama.”
The vehicle skid in front of him and he went inside, patting the seat for the protector pet.
“I have received word there is an attack at the dinner party, did I wake you?”
“No mama. I have been busy defending my home.”
“Santo, are you and my bambino well?”
“Sí mama. Your bambini are unharmed.”
“Grazie ai santi!” she exclaimed and then in her maternal voice said, “Figlio you must leave with Carlo. You are closer to your brother’s villa. Go there. Anita is at home and Alfonzo’s property is heavily fortified. I am in Cefalú with Nico’s famiglia. Be safe and call me when you arrive.”
“Sí mama, ti amo.” He then apologized for the harsh words spoken earlier.
“I know, we will talk again, ti amo. Vai ora!”
Giuseppe told the driver where to go and then immediately called Nicole. When the donna answered he breathed a sigh of relief. “I am sending a car for you. Do not argue.”
She did not. What she said was, “Oh thank goodness because I was just about to call you. I had to fetch my phone.”
“What has happened?”
“Someone’s shooting into the house.”
“And Nico, where is he?”
“He’s checking outside.”
“Stay inside until Nico returns. Do not go near the windows. You are to call me when Nico is there, capisce?”
“Yes, oh what a night.”
“Sí, donna…it has been an exciting day, now do as told, this is not theatre, this is my dramatic life.”
“Don’t try to upstage everybody because of your title, people get shot at every day in cities and other parts of the world and they’re not Dons. At least you can shoot back; right now I wish I had a gun.”
Giuseppe’s forehead wrinkled at the flippant comment. “You are a pianist not a thug. Hush.”
“Oh Giuseppe…Giuseppe…I do think you’re growing on me naughty boy.”
How is it possible he could chuckle in this moment of severity, he wondered?
“In plant taxonomy there are many vines that grow aggressively, such as the kudzu and the Orange Thug. In time they become nuisances.”
“A plant called an Orange Thug, really, I never heard of it?”
